“Mmm.”Cassia touched her stylus to her chin as she liked to do when thinking.“Yes, I can imagine Kephalos building up a fortune for himself, one sestertius at a time.He strikes me as a resourceful man, and tight-fisted.He certainly tried to wriggle out of paying us our full share for the Ostia trip.”
I noted she always said “we” and “us” when she talked about my bodyguard post and the payment for it.As though we were a unit.
And perhaps we were.I’d never have found the job if Cassia hadn’t hunted for it.I’d have remained in bed, asleep.
“Would their accounts tell you?I asked Priscus if you could have a look at them, but he claims Kephalos would never allow it.”
“I see.”Cassia continued to tap the stylus, leaving a pale streak on her chin.“Kephalos is clever.If he is embezzling, he’ll have hidden his crime well.He might not let me see the books, but I can converse with him and perhaps make him say more than he intends.Kephalos is a bit more forthcoming to me, because I speak Greek.”
“I wonder if Priscus speaks it.”
“No.”Cassia’s lips twitched.“He does not.A source of contempt for Kephalos.Yes, I will speak to him and Celnus, and see what I can find out.”
She gazed dreamily into the distance, as though enjoying thoughts of interrogating the arrogant scribe.
“What does all this mean?”I waved at the sketches.
Cassia straightened the papyrus page.“Diagrams of the place Floriana was killed.Here is the Porticus Octaviae.”She touched her stylus to a straight line labeled with letters.The river, a wavy line, was obvious, but she’d written words there too.
“What are the round things?”Small oval shapes and smaller, rounder ones dotted the drawing.
“Impressions of boots and sandals.I drew what I saw there.”
“There was so much mud and rain—everything was smeared.”
“I know.They may mean nothing.”The stylus moved.“This is the path between the Porticus Octaviae and the bridge, which many people use, but it’s interesting all the same.”
“Every man in Rome wears boots or sandals.Most made by the same leather workers.”
“That is true.”Cassia tapped the paper.“These small round marks are from cleats on the bottoms of boots, the kind soldiers wear.”
Cleats.I suddenly remembered the man who’d tried to attack me the night before we’d left Rome.I’d heard, as he’d run off, the click of iron hobnails on stone.My skin prickled, but I tried to make myself be practical.
“Soldiers train on the Campus Martius, not far away,” I said, more to myself than to Cassia.“Probably cross the bridges in and out of town via this path all the time.”
“Yes.”Cassia did not seem worried that every person in Rome could have tramped through the mud that day and left their boot prints.“I will consider everything.”
My unease was making me hungry, as had my travels through the streets.“Let us visit thepopinaand eat.We can look at diagrams later.”
“I agree.”Cassia rolled up the scrolls and closed the tablets.“I have not sat here all morning writing, however.I did discover more about Avitus.”
I had started to rise, but I sat back down, intent.“What did you find?”
“I went to the house where he lodges.He wasn’t there when I visited, but I spoke to the woman who draws the water and scrubs the floors.You had the idea that Avitus grew up at Floriana’s, was perhaps a boy for use, but no.He is from Rome… the Aventine.He spent a few years in the army, in Hispania.When he returned to Rome, he joined the vigiles.”
“Then he must have been her customer,” I said.“He claimed to know much about Floriana, though I never saw him at her house.”
“Puzzling.When you find him again, you must not let him go until he has a better explanation for himself.”
I intended to squeeze every bit of truth out of Avitus, even if he had nothing to do with Floriana or the attacks on me.
“Shall we have a repast?”Cassia reached for her cloak.“We can think better when we are not hungry.”
She’d said “we” again.I decided, as I wrapped my cloak around me and ushered her out, that I did not mind this.I’d always been alone.Now I was part of “us.”
For the next two days,I searched for Avitus with no luck.Even positioning myself outside the house where his squad lodged did not help.He seemed to have taken some leave.
Likewise, I hunted for Lucia, or at least the woman we thought was Lucia.Why she’d returned to Rome when she could have been safe in Capua, I didn’t know.Then again, the woman might not be Lucia at all.Whoever she was, she kept her distance.
