London - Edward Rutherfurd [51]
He discovered she had come from the bridge. Had she seen his friend Julius down there? he enquired. No, she told him with a wry smile, Julius was certainly not in that area. “Perhaps he’s at the games,” she suggested. “Shall we go and see?” And she linked her arm in his.
It was a pleasant walk for Sextus. He had business to attend to with Julius, but he did not want to waste this unforeseen opportunity. By the time they came in sight of the amphitheatre, he had arranged that he would come to her that night.
If I’m not in jail, he thought, I’ll be in heaven.
“Better not be seen going into the amphitheatre with you,” he lied cleverly, as they drew close. “Until tonight then.” Then he slipped away to wait for his former friend. In his hand, he felt the knife.
The evening was warm and a pleasant pall of sweat and dust hung in the air as the great amphitheatre was emptied. The crowd was well satisfied. They had eaten and drunk on the long, curved terraces; they had seen lions, bulls, a giraffe, all manner of beasts; they had seen a bear maul a man and two gladiators had died before them. Londinium might seem far from Rome, but at these moments, beneath the serried arches in the theatre of stone, when men saw the beasts of Europe and Africa and watched men fight, the imperial capital of the ancient, sunlit world seemed no further away than a cry over the southern horizon.
Julius moved with the crowd. They had probably saved his life. Having managed to get about a hundred yards ahead of his pursuers, he had raced out of a lane, across a short cobbled space and dived through a doorway into the amphitheatre. Round the huge circular passage in the walls he had run, up two flights of steps, and then through a narrow doorway into the upper terraces. Two gladiators were fighting. People had stood up to see the kill. He had been able to slip in and find a place without anyone taking any notice.
All afternoon he remained there. Many times he scanned the audience, half expecting to see the legionaries looking for him. He had not dared to venture out in case they were waiting, but now, as he emerged with the crowd, he saw no sign of them. With luck, they had not got a proper look at him.
Maybe I’ve made it, he grinned to himself.
But what to do next? His parents would be starting their feast with the neighbours very soon. All day they must have been wondering where he was and they would be expecting him now. Indeed, after all the danger of the last few hours, the safety of his cheerful home seemed inviting.
But there was still the matter of the bag of forged coins. His mother knew about it. Sooner or later he was going to have to discuss the business with her – and with his father too, no doubt. He dreaded it, but braced himself. “Anyway,” he muttered, “she’s got to tell me what she’s done with them so that I can get Sextus off my back.”
Julius sighed. Sextus had given him until sundown. The sun was sinking now. I’ll just have to stall him until the morning, he decided. In the meantime, I’m quick on my feet, he said to himself. And besides, he grinned, he’s got to find me first.
He allowed himself to go with the crowd that had flowed into the upper thoroughfare and was mostly drifting towards the eastern hill. As he went, his mind returned to Martina. Was she there somewhere? Would he be able to make it up to her? Perhaps. Certainly there was no need to give up hope.
And then, once again, as he had so many times during the long afternoon, he thought of the gold.
To have held that sack in his very hands! To know that even now it was close by, resting in some cellar probably, not yards from where he had seen the cart. Would the legionaries still be there, guarding it? Surely not. If they had stolen the gold they would keep well clear of the place for the time being.
But then another thought occurred to him. Perhaps they would not leave it there. In a day or two, they might return and start to disperse the gold. Why leave it all in one place where it might be discovered and lost? At the very