seemed to be reconciled and now spoke with the wine merchant in more congenial tones.
At the corner, I halted and put kind hands on Lucia’s shoulders. “Why did you come back to Rome, if you were safe elsewhere?”
“To warn you.” Fresh tears formed in the corners of Lucia’s eyes. “The more I thought things through, the more frightened I became. I tried to speak to you alone, but she is always there.” Lucia jerked her chin in the direction of our lodgings.
“Cassia works for me. Of course she’s there.”
“When I waited for you to come out alone, Regulus found me. He dragged me to the ludus and told me I was his now. I think he meant to hurt you by that, but I don’t think you were hurt.” Her voice went quiet and she touched my chest with regret.
“You are my friend,” I said. “Regulus doesn’t understand that.”
“He understands that you are a better man than he, and he does not like that. He called you some terrible names.” Lucia looked briefly amused, as though some of those names had been quite funny. She stepped closer to me, her touch sensual, practiced. “That woman will dig her claws into you and not let go. When you have wrested yourself free of her, come and find me. We will revel in old times.”
I didn’t believe Lucia was correct about Cassia, but I cupped her cheek. “The gods go with you.”
“And you, Leonidas.”
She studied me a moment longer then turned and faded into the shadows. The crowd in the Vicus Longinus swallowed her up, and she was gone.
When I returned to our apartment, Cassia was already bundling herself in her palla.
“You should stay here,” I told her. “I will find Avitus and take him to a magistrate myself. He’ll fight me, and he could hurt you.”
Cassia blinked at me. “I was not rushing to hunt Avitus. We should get word to the Palatine that the princeps is in danger.”
“He is always in danger,” I said irritably. “And Avitus might have nothing to do with this—Lucia might have seen another vigile. We won’t know until we question him.” I did not trust Avitus, but I wanted to be certain. I full well knew what it was like to be accused of a crime I did not commit.
“If we tell someone all we know—perhaps that Praetorian Guard who likes you—then he can search for Avitus. We can never seem to put our hands on the wretched lad.”
“And Avitus would be executed, even if he’s innocent.”
Cassia paused. “Do you believe he’s innocent?”
“No,” I had to say. “He was outside Floriana’s the morning after her poisoning, very interested in the proceedings. He claims he knew her, but he’d never been a customer or worked there. He broke in here trying to find out what we knew.” I still needed to have the door bolts replaced with better ones. “You believe the round markings you found where Floriana died are from the cleats on Avitus’s boots, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
I growled. “It is probably true we should report this—but what if Avitus is innocent? He being at Floriana’s by chance?”
Cassia contemplated this, touching her lip. “What if you speak to the Praetorian, and ask his opinion? We do not have to name Avitus. Only that you think Floriana might have been involved in a plot, and she has been killed. The plot might still be on, or it might not. But if we do not warn anyone, and Nero is killed, and conversations are traced back to us …”
“We are dead.” I let out an angry sigh. “It is dangerous knowledge either way.”
“If we pass it on, perhaps it will become less dangerous for us.”
“Until we are brought in and interrogated,” I grumbled.
“The word of a slave is worthless,” Cassia said. “They might interrogate you, but now they have to do it following the law.”
I remembered the stink of the Tullianum prison, the rats, the groaning of men, the fear. My sentence, though it was supposed to have broken and killed me, had been far less horrific than what others had faced.
“Or I could find Avitus and carry him to the guards,” I growled.
“Which will take much time. He knows the city and is slippery.”
I had to agree. I did not like Cassia’s solution, but she was right. Any delay in reporting the knowledge would look as though we were part of the conspiracy. I took up my cloak and ushered her out into the bright Roman afternoon.