This was precisely what he was doing when he saw a thin red horizontal line suddenly appear in front of his eyes, bisecting the darkness. His first instinct was to go rigid with fear, his heart leaping into his throat. He wondered whether he was about to witness a portal into the underworld splitting open before his very eyes, out of which Mantilus would climb like some grotesque newborn from its mother’s bleeding womb. Then he realized what the red line actually was, and he would have laughed out loud if he hadn’t been so fearful of drawing attention to himself.
It was the first glimmerings of the sun rising over the distant hills. Though the daylight was no guarantee of safety from harm-in fact, in some ways it was his enemy, for it would make him more visible-Ashur felt glad of it. At least the sun would warm the earth, and with it his bones and blood. And at least, with a landscape in which to anchor himself, he would not feel so isolated, nor so vulnerable.
He sat and watched as the sun climbed slowly above the horizon, and for the first time since being burdened with the task in hand, he felt almost peaceful. Although he was a man whose main concern in life was in securing profit and gain, a man who spent almost every waking moment attempting to turn each situation to his own advantage, even Ashur, for the moment, was entranced by the majestic artistry of the gods.
The red line which had first appeared slowly widened, the black sky around it growing gradually lighter as crimson light was forced outward into the world. First the blackness of the sky turned gray, and then purple, and then lilac. And then, finally, Apollo’s chariot of fiery horses erupted into being, obliterating the darkness completely and streaking the sky with pennants of pink and crimson and burning orange. Ashur basked in it, the sight soothing him so much that eventually he closed his tired eyes and watched the play of light over the insides of his eyelids. Already he felt warmer, though he suspected that that was merely illusion. Sleepily he opened his eyes again …
… to see a dark figure, like a mass of spindly black twigs given life, creeping across the jagged rocks of the mountainside toward him.
Panic seized him, and he almost leaped instinctively to his feet prior to running for his life. He might even have done so, immediately betraying his hiding place and undoing all of Batiatus’s carefully laid plans in a single stroke, if his limbs had not still been so stiff and unresponsive from the cold, and if he had not, a split-second later, realized that the black figure was not creeping toward him, as he had first thought, after all.
No, it was moving toward the pool, picking its way carefully across the brown, rubble-strewn rocks on the uneven slope that led to it. Edging the pool itself were bent, straggly trees and thick clumps of thorny bushes, like the one in which Ashur was currently hiding. With the sun behind it, the figure was in silhouette, but Ashur could see that it was lithe and scrawny, and dressed in a flowing garment that appeared to be fashioned from strips of rag. He had no doubt that it was Mantilus, and as such Ashur crouched, utterly rigid and motionless, like a rabbit which has caught the scent of a predator on the wind.
Mantilus came to a halt beside the pool and bent toward it. Only now did Ashur notice that he was holding two roundish objects, one in each hand. Peering hard, he realized what the objects were. They were wine skins, bulging with fluid.
Suddenly, as though sensing his presence, Mantilus’s head snapped up, and Ashur saw the light of the rising sun flash silvery-white in his sightless eyes. For an instant the scarred man seemed to be staring directly at him. Ashur felt every muscle in his body bunch and tighten in response, felt his heart begin to race once again, which in turn caused his cold limbs to tingle as blood was sent rushing through his veins.
Mantilus’s gaze held him for what seemed like minutes, and then to Ashur’s relief his white eyes flickered and moved on, raking the hillside, his head jerking like a bird’s. Finally the scarred man bent to his task again. Placing one of the wine skins on the ground by his feet, he used both hands to pull open the other and then stretched out his arms and upended the contents into the pool.
Most of what came out seemed to be liquid, but Ashur could see that it was thick and dark green, as though full of some kind of herb-or a concoction of herbs-which had been pulped almost to a paste. The stuff plopped into the pool, floated for a moment on its surface, spreading out like hair, and then sank without trace.
Picking up the second wine skin, Mantilus skirted around the edge of the pool to the other side. Here he did the same thing again-opening the wine skin and tipping an identical thick green substance into the water. When he was done, he picked up both of the skins and tucked them inside his robe, out of sight. Then, from some hidden pocket, he produced a smaller pouch, one which he held easily in his claw-like hand, and began to range about, as though searching for something. Eventually he scuttled across to a loose rock about the size of a human torso, and stuffed the pouch beneath it, out of sight. Picking up a smaller rock, he scratched a symbol on the larger one, the sound sharp and clear in the still morning air, and then, with what appeared to be a final glance around, he moved away from the pool and began to pick his way carefully back across the mountainside.
“Dominus … Dominus …”
Like thorns pushed into his skin, the words slowly penetrated Batiatus’s consciousness. He drifted up from the soothing caress of delicious sleep, prizing open one eye to see Ashur’s bearded face looming over him.
“What befalls me now that requires waking to your fucking face,” he muttered.
“Apologies, dominus. You instructed to awaken the instant of return.”
Batiatus struggled into a sitting position, blinking and rubbing his eyes.
“Is it fucking day or night?”
“Dawn, dominus. The birds begin morning song.”
“Fuck the fucking birds,” Batiatus said.
“Yes, dominus.”
“Wait in my study. I will fully open eyes and join you presently.”
A few minutes later, dressed but still red-eyed from sleep, Batiatus entered his study to find Ashur standing patiently, waiting for him.
“So,” Batiatus said, stifling a yawn. “You retrieve knowledge from scout?”
Ashur plumped himself up, clearly smug at the prospect of delivering good news to his master.
“Yes, dominus.”
“Mantilus appeared as expected I hope? Absent that, you should still be standing vigil as instructed.”
“He came, dominus. His actions indicated scheme you suspected.” Quickly Ashur described what he had seen.
Batiatus clenched his teeth in both outrage and triumph. Raising his right arm, he cupped the palm of his hand, fingers rigid and claw-like.
“With suspicion confirmed I have that little Greek fuck held tightly by the balls. Knowledge of his artifice ensures crushing of reputation and pitiful fucking excuse for ludus.”
He clenched his fist to prove his point. Ashur’s face was sanguine.
“I trust you will make discovery public, dominus. To assure citizens of Capua receive knowledge and cast similar judgement?”
“It tempts to throw him to the horde,” Batiatus smiled grimly, ruminating on the idea, but eventually shook his head. “Prospect of watching him squirm appeals to no end, but where is the coin in it? I will make preparation in stealth, to spring it to full advantage when time comes. Soon I will see the House of Hieronymus crumble. And I will lower myself to shit in the Greek’s mouth standing astride his ruins.”
“And what of Crassus, dominus? Will you see the man fall too?”
Batiatus barked a laugh at both the audacity and the naivete of the question.
“Such a move unwise in the extreme. The holes in which
Ashur nodded, and then, almost as an afterthought he said, “There is one more thing, dominus.”
“Don’t tease with suspense. Arrive at complete fucking tale.”
From the folds of his dark cloak, Ashur produced a small leather pouch, which he handed to Batiatus. Batiatus gave it a shake, and both men heard the unmistakable jangle of coins.
“Mantilus concealed this beneath rock close to pool,” Ashur said. “He chose location with care.”
Batiatus narrowed his eyes.
“Coin for the traitor in our midst no doubt. A man short of brains enough to betray me.” He looked broodingly at Ashur. “You could identify this rock you spied?”
Ashur inclined his head.
