Black Salamander Read Free Page A

route. Already she had her suspicions…
    As the drone of the little priest continued, Claudia found her legs could no longer support her, and she stumbled to the nearest wagon. At the front, the horses, still skittish, shifted from hoof to hoof as they whinnied and shied, and she wanted to tell them, put a sock in it, show some gratitude, can’t you see half of your cousins are dead? Wearily, her hair and her tunic plastered to her body with rain which had finally begun to ease up, Claudia slumped against the brake pole.
    What have you got yourself into this time?
    Without bothering to sweep the soggy canvas aside, uncannily intact apart from a layer of mud, she leaned into the rig. A drink. Whoever it belonged to, they had to have wine on board. Shaking fingers fumbled over the luggage in the dark interior. An overturned trunk. A shoe. What’s that? Oh, a writing tablet. That’s no bloody use. A carved wooden goblet. A comb. A foot. A razor. Did I say foot ? Claudia yanked back the awning. Holy shit, it was a foot. Cold, clammy, a very dead foot. Swallowing hard, she followed it upwards. She knew that leg, surely? The short, stocky body…?
    Salty tears filled her eyes. The last time she’d seen him, he’d been gasping for breath, his face as pink as a ripe pomegranate. She gagged at the lump in her throat. Now he was cold. Icy cold. And there was no breath left in his lungs.
    Oh, Nestor. You of all people! Surely a seasoned traveller had the sense to get out of the way? And then she realized that here he was, lying flat on his face in a cart, suggesting that his heart had given way. Poor old sod. Who’d have thought he’d have been so terrified of a rock fall?
    Something lurched in her gut.
    Janus, Croesus, he’d been in agony the last time she saw him, and then came the landslide. Independently, they’d have had no impact on his health, but together? Together they’d buggered his heart. Inadvertently, Claudia had helped kill him.
    She scrubbed the tears from her eyes. This had really turned into a nightmare.
    ‘I’m so sorry.’ She gulped. ‘Oh, Nestor, I am so very sorry.’
    Truly, he’d been nothing more than a troublesome pest, a lonely man in search of cheap thrills. He’d meant no harm with his touching—some chaps couldn’t help it. Like sniffing hemp seeds, or drinking too much, they were simply hooked on the act. Had she known the architect had a weak heart…
    Accustomed now to the gloom inside the cart, Claudia frowned. Hold on. She scrambled closer, towards the top section of his waxy, lifeless body. Holy shit! Nestor hadn’t succumbed to a dodgy heart at all.
    The entire back of his head was caved in.
    *
    Claudia wriggled out of the cart, pulled down the flap and signalled Junius away from a sacrifice to gods in which, as a Gaul, he didn’t believe.
    ‘Tell me what you found when you backtracked,’ she demanded, dragging him behind a rig, where they couldn’t be seen.
    His handsome face puckered up and she noticed he took care to speak in a low undertone, darting a glance now and then to make sure no one had noticed their absence.
    ‘Your suspicions were justified,’ he said grimly. ‘I rode back as far as the last town we stayed in, checked with the servants, the townsfolk, the soldiers patrolling the streets, and the story’s identical. Two days had elapsed since the first part of the delegation passed through ahead of us.’ He paused, darting a glance over her shoulder. ‘Will you…tell the others?
    ‘Tell them what?’ Claudia shrugged. ‘That this little group has somehow become separated from the main body of the convoy? So what, they’ll say. Our samples and supplies are plodding behind in a column of ox-carts, they’re already a week in arrears. They’ll blame the rain and the mudslides and, for all I know, Junius, that might be all there is to it.’
    She had to believe that. She had to.
    Indeed, so illustrious was the cavalcade, so vital this celebration of a