I explained about his son, and how he hadlearned that Aviola’s wealth was ill-gotten, but even as I providedwhat I thought was a fairly substantial amount of information, hewas clearly not impressed.
“None of that,” he said when I hadfinished. “matters. I mean to say, what do you know aboutthe man? Not where he lives,or the names he has used, but the man himself?”
I immediately understood that, not only washe right, but that I knew precious little about Lucius Aviola.However, I was not convinced that Demeter knew that much more abouthim, whereupon he quickly proved me wrong.
“Lucius Aviola was born in Rome. In,”he had to think for a moment before providing, “the part of thecity you call the Subura. Which,” Demeter added, “is where Caesarwas born, is it not?”
“Yes,” I answered, but I was stillunconvinced, “but he was also from an old patrician family, so thatdoesn’t mean anything.”
“Aviola was not of that class,”Demeter replied, “nor was he what I believe you call the plebeianclass?” I nodded, and he continued, “And he was not of what youcall your Equestrian Order. So,” he asked me, “what is the classbelow that?”
“The Head Count,” I muttered, yet Iwas still unwilling to accept the idea that Aviola had not startedout with at least some sort of money to enable him to cheat wealthypeople like Gaius. “How do you know this?” I demanded.
“Because when he was trying toconvince me to do as he wanted, he told me how he had gottenstarted,” Demeter explained.
“He could have been lying.”
“Centurion,” he spoke softly, but witha conviction that was more important than the words, “how manyRomans do you know who would willingly admit that he was part ofyour poorest class?”
While I was not completely persuaded, it wasclose, so I acknowledged, “Not many.” I remained silent for amoment as I thought about why Demeter was heading in thisdirection, and since I was forming my thoughts as I was going, Ispoke slowly, “It sounds like you’re saying that Aviola would knowhow to blend in with poor people.” He nodded, but I was stillthinking, “But being a Roman, he would stick out, wouldn’t he?”
“He might,” Demeter acknowledged, “butI believe that a man like him would not have acquired a home in theRhakotis without knowing how to blend in.”
This was enough, although it was not withoutsome trepidation I agreed by way of asking, “How can we get intothat quarter without sticking out?”
“You cannot,” Demeter replied inseeming agreement. For the first time since the conversation began,he smiled, but it was not one that held any humor or kindness, “butI can.”
“Do you trust him enough?”
This, unsurprisingly, was the firstquestion, and as usual, it was Alex who asked it once I hadreturned to the cabin, where I informed them that I had seen thebody of Lykos, without going into details.
“I do,” I answered him, albeit after amoment’s hesitation. “I think that for some reason he blames Aviolafor what happened with Lykos.”
There was no way I couldexplain why I felt this way,just that I did with a surprising amount of conviction.
“What did he learn?” Septimus asked.“What did Lykos tell him?”
In many ways, this was perhaps the mosttragic part of the sordid story, which I explained.
“It wasn’t actually Lykos, but anothermember of the crew who overheard us when I talked with Demeter atthe beginning of the voyage. Last night, he mentioned to Lykos thename that he heard us using, which was Decimus Mela. Then,” Ishrugged, “Lykos put that together with what he had already learnedfrom Demeter, and he obviously got a warning to Aviola.”
“But that doesn’t explain why, or howLykos knew where to find Aviola,” Alex protested, and he wascorrect. Here, I was going from guesswork, which I warned theothers about before I began.
“I think that Lykos saw an opportunityto get into Aviola’s good books for some reason. Whatever thereason, he went out into the city, spread some coins around, andfound out where Aviola lived. Then,” I could only offer a shrug,“he either warned Aviola himself or sent someone to doit.”
It was thin; oh, it was very thin, buteither Lykos died before divulging why he betrayed Demeter or, morelikely in my mind, Demeter had elected not to give me the realreason.
But it was Bronwen, of all people, whooffered up a possible explanation, “Perhaps he was trying to winthis man’s confidence so that he could arrange another meetingwhere he would show up, and Demeter would be waiting.”
This, I realized, was entirely possible, anda quick glance told me the others felt the same way, not that itmattered any longer, so I moved on.
“Demeter is going to go into Rhakotis,but,” I turned to Alex, “I insisted that he take one of us, and thetruth is that Alex blends in better than the rest ofus.”
“Is that your way of saying I lookGreek?” he asked dryly, and even with the tension, I had to laughas I admitted, “That’s exactly right.”
“But,” he pointed to himself, “I’mwearing a Roman tunic, and I’ll be wearing a Romanpaenula.”
This was true, but it was also somethingDemeter had thought of, and I told him as much.
“He’s going to be giving you differentclothing to wear.”
“And what are we going to do?” heasked. “Snatch him?”
“No,” I replied firmly, “all you andDemeter are going to do is to make sure he’s there.”
“Then how do you plan on getting holdof him?” Septimus asked. I chose to give my answer in the look Igave him, and he groaned, “Pluto’s balls, Gnaeus! Are youmad? You can’t go inthere!”
“Who will stop me?” I thought it was areasonable question, but given the manner in which every personpresent came to their feet to begin shouting at me, I suppose I wasthe only one.
It was when Bronwen protested, “You cannotjust walk into this place in the daylight and expect that you willget out!”
“Which is why I’m going to be doing itonce
