The Song of the Gladiator by Paul Doherty Page B

heap. Why?’ He peered at Claudia.
    ‘If it was arson,’ Claudia declared, ‘the person who started it wanted to hide something. I wonder what? But you’re right.’ She stared at the sky. ‘It must be near midnight.’
    She thanked Gaius and walked back to the palace, pausing to admire a bust of the Emperor’s father. Rufinus and Chrysis came out of a chamber, talking quietly to each other. They fell silent when they saw Claudia. Chrysis glared at her malevolently. He resented her presence and her influence with the Empress. Rufinus was about to smile but turned away, then clicked his fingers and came hurrying towards her.
    ‘Claudia, I knew there was something I wanted to ask, Murranus, is he well?’
    ‘A little embarrassed,’ Claudia declared, ‘but ready to fight again.’
    ‘I know, I know.’ The banker scratched his thinning silver hair, his lean face tense with concentration.
    ‘I hope it doesn’t happen again.’ Chrysis spoke up. ‘Rufinus is my witness, I placed a heavy bet on your boyfriend; we thought we’d at least get our money back.’
    ‘You had such confidence in Murranus?’
    ‘I know Spicerius,’ Chrysis retorted, leaning closer like a conspirator. ‘He drinks wine and spends too much time bouncing the divine Agrippina. They say he is slowing up. I actually laid two wagers: the first that Murranus would win and the second that there would be a kill within the hour. Didn’t I, Rufinus?’
    ‘He laid the wager with me,’ the banker confirmed. ‘All of Rome is talking about what we should do. Did Murranus win? Did Spicerius lose? Should the money be given back?’
    ‘And what have you decided?’ Claudia tried to keep her voice steady.
    ‘Well, as you know,’ Rufinus smiled sourly, ‘in a week’s time special games are to be held to celebrate the Emperor’s birthday. All being well, Murranus and Spicerius will meet again. The bets will be carried forward.’
    Rufinus bade Claudia goodnight, Chrysis waggled his fingers obscenely at her and they both went back along the corridor.
    Claudia decided to wander the palace. She felt physically tired, but her mind teemed like a beehive. She found herself near the peristyle garden and asked the guard where the cellar was. He gave her directions. Claudia first went to the kitchens, where she borrowed a lantern horn from a sleepy-eyed cook, who lit the oil lamp inside, secured the small door and handed it to her.
    ‘Don’t walk too fast,’ he warned. ‘Let the wick burn fiercely for a while.’
    Claudia sat outside on a bench and watched the flame in the lantern horn strengthen before picking it up and finding her way to the cellar. The door was now unguarded, off the latch. She went carefully down the steps. The door at the bottom was flung open and Claudia went inside. She walked slowly, tapping the ground with her sandalled foot. The floor was of hard baked brick; the lime-washed walls had some cracks and crevices, the occasional gap, but there was no opening or any sign of another entrance. The ceiling too looked firm and secure, ribbed by heavy beams, the plaster in between hard and even.
    Satisfied, Claudia approached the great circle of sand and sat down on one of the stools, staring up at the chain. She noticed how the links were well moulded and the hook at the end long and sharply curved. She closed her eyes. How could the robbery have happened? Gaius had been sleeping in the garden. The door to the chamber was held secure by two different locks and guarded by the Empress’s own mercenaries. Timothaeus and Burrus had unlocked it. The steward had explained to her how he checked the cellar three times a day to make sure that all was well, although, he confessed, he also wished to venerate such a holy relic. Claudia opened her eyes and glanced over her shoulder at the door.
    ‘So you came in here, Timothaeus,’ she murmured, ‘reached the edge of the circle, stared at the chain, and noticed the sword was gone?’
    Claudia