Page 65 of Brother at Arms

“He did?” Mena gaped. “I continue to be amazed. You see, this is why I keep telling myself to stay away from the silk trade. You mean a gladiator was steering all that silk to me? I had no idea.”

He lifted a feathered fan from the desk and began flapping it as sweat trickled from his temples.

“He was,” I said. “Then Xerxes died. Another took his place. I need to know who this other man is.”

“Well, the gods help me, I don’t know.” Mena’s eyes went wide. “I never see or speak to him. We communicate only in letters. I thought he was using the moniker of Xerxes so I wouldn’t know his real name. Very Persian, isn’t it?” Mena slowed the fan. “Oh dear, I did not mean to distress you, Leonidas. You must have known the gladiator Xerxes well.”

“He was my friend, yes,” I said stiffly.

“And yours?” Mena asked Lucius.

“No. He was my brother.”

“Ah.”

Mena dropped his fan, regarding us with a little more worry.

“I will tell you plainly, Leonidas and friend. I did not know it was the famed gladiator who was providing me with the silks. A Parthian trader brought in the cloth, and laborers in the Porticus Aemilia moved it to the area I rented. I always paid Xerxes through a go-between. I never met the man.”

“Who was the go-between?” I asked.

Mena shrugged. “I use different messengers, none of whom work for me directly. They are paid to pick up the shipment and hand a receipt to Xerxes, who then collects his money from my banker.”

This explained why Vitus thought the pouch Xerxes received couldn’t have contained much money. It hadn’t held any money at all, only the papyrus or piece of clay that Xerxes would then exchange for his payment, similar to what Fabius the banker had given to me to mark Cassia’s investment.

Wise of Mena. Using different messengers meant that none might be employed long enough to catch on to what was happening. The messenger didn’t pay Xerxes directly, because Mena would have to trust a man not to simply pocket the money and walk away.

Would a banker realize, or care, that a different Xerxes had begun collecting the money? Or did he simply honor the papyrus with Mena’s mark on it? “Xerxes” might be the name of a coalition, for all the banker knew.

“In any case, the Parthian trader sold his business about six years ago to Mihrdat, who is as tough as they come,” Mena went on. “The shipments dried up, and I thought that our lucrative business was over. Then Xerxes contacted me again, about a year later.” He shrugged. “I assumed it had taken him some time to negotiate the scheme with Mihrdat, who probably wanted to charge more to ship the silk. But then we continued, and I did well out of it.” Mena scrunched up his face. “I tried importing some of it myself, bypassing Mihrdat, using money I’d borrowed from Seneca. You witnessed the result of that.”

“So, you don’t know who the new Xerxes actually is?” I asked impatiently.

“I didn’t know the first one.” Mena shrugged his large shoulders. “It makes no difference to me, does it? Mihrdat probably knows. He’d have to deal with him directly.”

Mihrdat hadn’t been very impressed with me when I’d approached him in the Porticus Aemelia. I’d have to think of an excuse to corner him again, one that would get me past his guards.

Lucius, restless, jumped to his feet. “Let us go find him, then.”

“Later,” I growled. Lucius glared at me then sat down again in resignation.

I fixed Mena with the stare I’d terrified new gladiators with. “You will swear an oath that you never met or spoke to the Xerxes who was my friend, and that you did not make certain he was poisoned before the games to make him lose?”

“Is that what happened?” Mena asked in amazement. “Of course I’ll swear an oath. In court, if you like. I’d never have nobbled Xerxes before the games. I just told you I wagered on him in that match. Anyway, employing poison to fix a bout would be dishonorable.” He finished in shock that anyone would think of such a thing.

I contemplated Mena, while he twitched nervously. He’d confessed to being a smuggler, in cahoots with Xerxes and a Parthian trader. Seneca might have been justified taking Mena’s shipment if Mena had been remiss in paying back a debt.

But was Mena a murderer? Directly or indirectly?

Xerxes would not have been a threat to him. Once Xerxes had backed away from his venture with Lucius, he’d done so thoroughly.

Xerxes had never made any sign that he’d ever traded in silk. He’d never spoken of his brother—he had cut himself off entirely.

Once Xerxes had met Marcella, his visits to wealthy women had completely ceased. None that I knew of had pestered him for more of the silk he provided, so they must not have minded switching their allegiance to the false Xerxes.

Xerxes had begun staying at Marcella’s farm as much as he could, experiencing happiness there that most of us never found. Any money he’d made from the silk venture he must have given to Marcella or spent on maintaining the farm and feeding his growing horde of children.

Just when Xerxes had found life sweet, someone had killed him.