I heard a step behind me and turned quickly.
“You have a message for Tertius Vestalis Felix?” a voice came to me from the shadow of the passageway.
A man stepped into the moonlight and the feeble flicker of the oil lamp resting beside the atrium’s square pool of water. He was tall, with a long face, a large, fleshy nose, and a thick quantity of black hair.
We studied each other for a long moment. He took me in, his nostrils flaring as he realized who I was, and what I knew.
I lunged at him at the same time he came at me. We grappled on the mosaic, on top of nymphs dancing under spreading trees. He was big and strong, but I was fast, skilled, and experienced.
I soon had him in a headlock, as I’d done with Herakles, ready to kick his legs out from under him. I’d beat him senseless then haul him to Vatia or maybe to the Praetorian Guard on the Palatine.
Something sharp pricked my arm. The stab was not deep, but in the next moment, my arm grew numb, and my torso and legs quickly followed. I kept the man in my grip until my knees buckled and I fell to the floor.
As I landed on my back, he stood over me holding what looked like a comb, the kind that held lady’s hair. The poison, whatever it was, must have been on its tines.
The atrium blurred, then the man bent to me, his long face and thick hair blotting out the silvery moonlight and the idyllic paintings of a family enjoying their leisure in a perfect garden.
Chapter 24
When I swam awake once more, I found myself flat on my back on a hard slab, the dank chill of stone walls around me, no light anywhere. I might be in a tomb.
My heart beat wildly as that thought took hold. I’d lived in cells a long time, but I’d known that someone would eventually open the door and let me out, even if that release might lead to my death. It wasn’t the same as being walled in.
I needed to rise and discover if I were entombed or simply in a room with tightly shuttered windows.
I tried to swing my legs over the side of the slab and realized I couldn’t move. I could twitch fingers and toes, open and close my mouth, and blink my eyes, but not much else.
“Hades,” I muttered. At least my voice worked. When my throat ceased being so dry, maybe I could shout for help.
“Who is that?” The croak came from my right, not far away. I sensed another presence—smelled him, in truth. The rank stink of sweat and urine didn’t rise only from me.
I recognized the snarl. “Regulus?”
“Oh, the luck of all the gods is upon me.” Regulus’s sardonic drawl cut the air. His voice was hoarse and weak, but his anger was plenty strong. “I’m penned up for my last day on earth with the great Leonidas. Fortuna loves me.”
“Last day?”
“I wasn’t thrown down here so I could be garlanded and fed sweetmeats and honey. That prick, Silvanus … pricked me … and dragged me to this place underneath his master’s house.”
“Silvanus.” I worked through my confused thoughts. “The slave with the big nose?”
“He’s a freedman, but stayed on to laud and worship his master.”
“And murder for him,” I murmured.
“The brilliant Leonidas has figured that out, has he? I am next into the pot, unless they decide to start with you. I hope they do. If I help them butcher you, maybe they’ll let me go.”
Regulus’s voice was strained, bluster covering fear. He must not be able to move any better than I could.
I smelled, over the odor of both of us, the distinctive stench of death. Muted, as though it had faded over the last days, but there. I had a feeling I’d found the place where Ajax and Rufus had been felled before they’d been taken to the warehouse to be cut to pieces. Silvanus must have dragged them here after they’d feasted with Severina for the killing blow so the other servants and Severina wouldn’t be aware of it.
“They have no reason to kill you,” I said to Regulus.
“I disagree. Silvanus stabbed me with his poisoned comb as I left his mistress’ bedchamber. Rufus was probably sticking it to her as well, and we knowyouwere.” Regulus huffed a laugh. “Though if the lofty Vestalis is murdering every man who ruts his wife, he’ll have to chop up half of Rome.”
“Rufus wasn’t her lover. Neither was I.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Regulus returned. “Silvanus is a madman, and so is Tertius Vestalis Felix.” He spat the name.
