London - Edward Rutherfurd [47]
But as an extra precaution, Julius did a cunning thing. After a few yards, instead of running forwards he turned and, as fast as he could, walked backwards, his face towards the retreating sentry. Five, ten, fifteen rapid steps. And it was just as well. This time, for some reason, the sentry finished his patrol and turned early. At which point Julius, instead of retreating, started to walk forwards, casually coming to meet the sentry, so that it appeared he was approaching the gate for the first time. The soldier looked surprised, wondering where he had come from, but as the young man was walking towards him, he thought nothing more about it and the two men passed each other with a nod. A few minutes later, Julius was on his way back to wait at the bridge with his present.
He wondered if the girl would come.
Sextus descended the broad street that led from the forum down to the bridge. He was frowning, and the fact that he had been unable to find Julius at the amphitheatre had not improved his temper.
Was his young friend avoiding him? The thought would not have occurred to him except for a chance remark he had overheard the afternoon before.
When, after bursting into the house, the soldiers had raced to the back looking for accomplices, he had heard them spot Julius, but was relieved to see that his friend had got away. It was soon clear that they had not got a decent look at him. Then, however, a few minutes later, he had heard two soldiers chatting as they searched his bedding in the next room. “There’s nothing here,” one had grunted. “I think this was a hoax. Someone just took a dislike to this fellow and wrote the letter.”
“But what about the young one? Was that him running away?”
“Maybe. Maybe not. He’s young anyway. Respectable family. If anyone forges, it’s this carpenter.”
The young one. Respectable family. It had to be Julius they were talking about. The young fool must have given them away somehow. Sextus cursed. “If they get to him, he’ll probably crack,” he groaned. “Then I’m done for.”
Though he wanted to, he had not dared go to Julius’s house that night in case he was followed, but he had expected to find him at the amphitheatre this morning. So when he failed to appear, Sextus had begun to be seriously worried. Had the authorities got to him? Had he given the game away? Finally, when he had stealthily approached Julius’s house, he had found it deserted. What did that mean? He had finally returned to his own house, in case Julius had gone there, then he had looked around the forum. Now, as a last resort, he was going to try the quay.
Suddenly, only a hundred yards ahead, there the young fellow was, walking towards the bridge. Sextus hurried forward. Julius was so engrossed in where he was going that he did not even notice Sextus until he was close behind. He turned. Seeing Sextus, his face fell.
Immediately Sextus was on his guard. “Is everything all right?” he asked. He saw Julius hesitate before reluctantly but truthfully telling him exactly what had happened.
Sextus did not believe a word of it. He prided himself on the fact that he was no fool. This story was utterly improbable, whereas certain other things were very clear. The young man was avoiding him. The money was gone. Only two explanations were likely, therefore. Either Julius had stolen it, or he had betrayed his friend, in which case the authorities probably had the bag of moulds to use as evidence in court. No doubt Julius would be let off for testifying against him.
Sextus’s face was a mask, though, as he listened to Julius’s awkward explanation. He said nothing, letting the young man justify himself. When he had finished Sextus concluded that his friend was a poor liar.
He decided to try a direct approach. “Have you been talking?” he asked bluntly. “To the soldiers?”
“No. Of course not.”
Sextus considered. He’d know that soon enough anyway. He drew a knife from his belt, and showed