Chapter 22 #2
Arsakes grunted. “He’s a dangerous man, is Mihrdat. Rich beyond anyone’s dreams, but he became so through ruthlessness. You are lucky he doesn’t believe you a threat.”
“You work with him,” I said bluntly. “You use him to ship your silks.”
“I never go near him,” Arsakes said. “I hire an agent to pick up the stuff at the oases, then give it to one of Mihrdat’s men to ship to Rome. The man called Xerxes pays Mihrdat for it, and I am safely far away. Until now, when I decided to come find out why Xerxes was threatening me.”
“Because the false Xerxes’s connection to Mihrdat ceased,” I said. “So Mihrdat told us.”
“Mihrdat likely broke it himself,” Cassia put in.
“If he thought his enterprise with the new Xerxes had grown less profitable or more risky, I believe he is the type of man who’d cut it off without a qualm.
The new Xerxes sees his fruitful business vanish, and tries to get money out of you, Arsakes, to keep himself afloat. ”
“Conniving bastard,” Arsakes muttered. “Why did Mihrdat try to kill us, then? To discourage Leonidas from asking questions?”
“I don’t think it was one of Mihrdat’s men who attacked you,” I said.
“You were fighting him before I reached the office, and I’d only just come from seeing Mihrdat.
He didn’t fight like one of Mihrdat’s toughs, anyway.
They had a different way of pinning me and Lucius, and the man fighting you wore a Roman tunic, not silk leggings. ”
Hadrianus was frowning as though he had opinions about the attack. He knew things, and I hoped Cassia could unlock what was in his head.
“I’m off to the ludus,” I said. “Regulus knows more about Xerxes’s last bout than I do, and maybe one of the others saw something as well.”
I was going to find the man who’d killed my friend. The friend who’d shoved aside a lucrative business to save an awkward and frightened youth when that youth’s life had been threatened.
That was the difference between Xerxes and Lucius, I decided. As much as Xerxes had joked, teased, and played pranks, he’d cared.
He’d cared enough about a young Leonidas to keep him safe from a dangerous man. He’d cared enough about Marcella and his children to be faithful to her, to spend every moment he could with her, and to give her all he had.
Someone had ended the life of a generous man, a kindhearted father and husband, and a devoted friend.
I would find that someone, and I’d finish him.
Cassia cut through my roiling thoughts. “Walk back with Hadrianus,” she instructed me. “He must return to Samorix before the seventh hour.”
We’d just make it. I gave her a curt nod and sent Arsakes a stern look.
I needed my bed back and a good sleep. I sought sleep whenever life became too complicated, my escape from troubled thoughts, and I’d been denied anything but restless nights lately.
Marcianus had been adamant that Arsakes stay still for a time, though, and so I must wait.
I sent Hadrianus down the stairs, and we emerged into the street. When we reached the lower slope, where we could walk side by side, I turned to him.
“If you saw the man who bought the poison from Samorix three Saturnalias ago, would you recognize him? Could you point him out?”
Hadrianus nodded without hesitation.
“Would you be willing to?”
Hadrianus waited a beat, then nodded again.
“Then Cassia or I will send for you if we need to.”
He nodded once more, then we continued in silence, cutting across the Campus Martius and down to the river. We crossed to the Transtiberim, where Hadrianus left me, making for the narrow lane that housed Samorix’s shop.
I trudged northward to the ludus, entering the gate just as training broke for the afternoon.
“Regulus.” I hailed him as he handed his wooden practice sword to Agapios, the equipment slave, and ambled toward the colonnade that led to the cells.
Regulus snatched a towel from another of the lackeys and waited for me to approach.
“Did you come to give us pointers, oh great Leonidas?” he asked, holding the ends of the cloth he’d draped around his neck. “Training is over for the day. Pity.”
I ignored his needling. “I want to ask you more about Xerxes’s last day.”
Regulus’s brows went up. “Still fixed on that, are you? I told you what I saw.”
“During the match, yes. What about before?”
“Before?” Regulus drew a breath as though to mock me further then broke off.
“I was resting after the bout I’d just won, near the entrance to the arena.
I could see you, flinching like a little girl while Marcianus sewed up a cut on your arm.
Xerxes came in about then, the crowd already screaming for him.
He marched past Perseus, slapping him on the back and wishing him luck. Fools, both of them.”
“Did Xerxes speak to anyone?” I demanded. “Did someone slip inside to hand him something? Did Xerxes eat or drink anything?”
“No.” The word was blunt. “I watched him walk in from the street, the sun shining hard on him, like Apollo was giving his blessing. Huh. He probably thought so.”
“You saw no one else but Perseus?”
Regulus thought a moment. “Aemil. He stopped Xerxes right before he went into the arena. Told him not to muck about and to fight a serious match.”
“That was all?” I believed him, but I needed answers.
“Aemil doesn’t let civilians backstage—you know that. He’s hard on those who try to sneak in.”
Regulus spoke the truth. Aemil would have run out anyone who’d tried to enter the vault beneath the arena’s seats with choice words and threats. I’d witnessed such things a time or two.
By Regulus’s tale, no one had followed Xerxes into the shadowed backstage area, and he hadn’t taken the poison there. Perseus might have given it to him after all.
But Hadrianus had indicated he could point out the man who’d purchased the poison, meaning that man was still alive, while Perseus was not. Though, Cassia would remind me, the man who bought the poison could have given it to Perseus to administer.
Or, someone could have handed Xerxes food or drink outside the arena, out of Regulus’s sight, nothing to do with Perseus at all.
I gave Regulus a nod of thanks and continued on into the ludus, pretending not to hear his huff of derision.
I strode along the walkway through the cells, heading for the area where the gladiators would gather before they left for the baths. Aemil would lead the pack to the nearest bathhouse, though the more senior and trusted gladiators, like Regulus, were allowed to go alone to baths of their choosing.
I scanned the gathered men, some rumbling to each other about whatever topics took their interest, others standing apart in silence, all sweating under the afternoon sun. I picked out the ones who’d been fighting the day of Xerxes’s last bout and spoke to them.
None I asked had seen anything or observed more than Regulus had. Xerxes had fought earlier matches and done well. Then he’d gone into the ring with Perseus and lost.
Some of the men spoke nonchalantly, accepting a gladiator’s death as inevitable. Others were unhappy to be reminded. Many of us had liked Xerxes.
Aemil arrived in the courtyard, saw me, and glared. “Don’t cause trouble, Leonidas, any more than you already have. When you want to come back and work for me, you’ll be welcome. Otherwise, go.”
He was in a temper about something—possibly a less-than-satisfactory training session—and snarled at the men to ignore me and get to the baths.
The days of Ludi Fabaraci were beginning, which would lead to a festival honoring Carna, the goddess of health.
There would be gladiatorial games during the celebrations, and Aemil was always tetchy before upcoming matches.
The gladiators filed out, and I turned to leave, balling my fists in frustration. Someone must have observed something.
“I saw him.”