A Gladiator Dies Only Once Read Online Free PDF Page B

get rid of it.”
    “How?”
    “I think you mean to . . . send it abroad.”
    “Where?”
    “To Spain. To Quintus Sertorius, the rebel general.”
    Her face became as pale as the pearls in her hair. “How much do you want, Gordianus?”
    I shook my head. “I didn’t come here to blackmail you.”
    “No? That’s what Scorpus wanted.”
    “Your husband’s man? Did he discover the truth?”
    “Only about the racing scheme. He seemed to think that entitled him to a portion of the takings.”
    “There must be plenty to go around.”
    She shook her head. “Scorpus would never have stopped wanting more.”
    “So he was drowned.”
    “Diocles arranged it. There are men around the circus who’ll do that sort of job for next to nothing, especially for a fellow like Diocles. Blackmailers deserve nothing better.”
    “Is that a threat, Sempronia?”
    “That depends. What do you want, Finder?”
    I shrugged. “The truth. It’s the only thing that ever seems to satisfy me. Why Sertorius? Why risk so much—everything—to help his rebellion in Spain? Do you have a family tie? A loved one who’s thrown his lot with the rebels? Or is it that you and Sertorius are . . .”
    “Lovers?” She laughed without mirth. “Is that all you can think, that being a woman, I must be driven by passion? Can you not imagine that a woman might have her own politics, her own convictions, her own agenda, quite separate from a husband or a lover? I don’t have to justify myself to you, Gordianus.”
    I nodded. Feeling her eyes on me, I paced the room. The sun was sinking. Flashes of warm sunlight reflected from the fountain outside caressed my face. Decimus Brutus would return home at any moment. What would I tell him?
    I made up my mind. “You asked me what I want from you, Sempronia. Actually, there is the matter of a refund, which I think you must admit is only proper, given the circumstances . . .”

    At noon the next day, I sat beside Lucius Claudius in his garden, sharing the sunlight and a cup of wine. His interest in that morning’s Daily Acts had been eclipsed by the bags of coins I brought with me. Scooping the little scrolls off the table, he emptied the bags and collected the sesterces into heaping piles, gleefully counting and recounting them.
    “All here!” he announced, clapping his hands. “Every single sesterce I lost yesterday on the races. But Gordianus, how did you get my money back?”
    “That, Lucius, must forever remain a secret.”
    “If you insist. But this has something to do with Sempronia and that charioteer, doesn’t it?”
    “A secret is a secret, Lucius.”
    He sighed. “Your discretion is exasperating, Gordianus. But I’ve learned my lesson. I shall never again be drawn into a betting scheme like that!”
    “I only wish I could have arranged for every person who was cheated yesterday to get his money back,” I said. “Alas, their lessons shall be more costly than yours. I don’t think this particular set of plotters will attempt to pull off such a scheme a second time. Hopefully, Roman racing can return to its pristine innocence.”
    Lucius nodded. “The important thing is, Deci is safe and out of danger.”
    “He was always safe; never in danger.”
    “Rude of him, though, not to pay you the balance of your fee.”
    I shrugged. “When I saw him at his house yesterday evening, after the races, I had nothing more to report to him. He hired me to uncover a plot against his life. I failed to do so.”
    And what, I thought, if I had reported everything to the consul—Sempronia’s adultery, the racing fix, the betting scheme, Scorpus’s attempted blackmail and his murder, Sempronia’s seditious support of Sertorius? Terrified of scandal, Decimus Brutus would merely have hushed it all up. Sempronia would have been no more faithful to him than before, and no one’s wagers would have been returned. No, I had been hired to save the consul’s life, discreetly; and as far as I was