Page 62 of Brother at Arms

“But Xerxes stopped his silk trading,” I said. “Something scared him, and he quit. That’s what Vitus told me.”

Lucius’s forehead wrinkled. “Who is Vitus?”

“The man you saw me talking to tonight. He was a gladiator at the same time as Xerxes. He found out about the scheme, and Xerxes paid him to look the other way. Vitus says that Xerxes gave him one final payment, about six years ago, saying he was finished with silk. Something had frightened him, but Vitus doesn’t know what.”

Lucius shook his head. “I don’t know what either. The Parthian shipper I used sold his business and retired, and I would have had to hunt for another I could trust. About that time, I started being sent further afield by Herminius, so I had no time to pursue it. As I told you before, Herminius liked having someone who enjoyed all the traveling so he could stay home with his feet up. Manius and I lost touch.”

“Xerxes kept in contact with us.” Arsakes’s grating tones floated from the bunk. “With my mates and me.”

Lucius stared at him. “Why would he? We had four people in our enterprise—Manius, me, the Parthian shipper, and the merchant here in Rome. I know you asked me about him, Arsakes, but I thought you were interested in him as a gladiator.”

“Xerxes sent you a message once you had gone off into the deserts,” Arsakes said. “I intercepted it.”

Lucius regarded him with more confusion. “But we used our code. How would you know what the message meant? To you, it should have been musings on the weather and how much pastry he was eating.”

“Weren’t in no code. Was straightforward enough. Wanted another three bolts from your man in Antioch. So, I went to the man in Antioch and told him you sent me.”

“Ah.” Lucius deflated. “I see.”

Cassia broke in. “The person who sent that message must have been the false Xerxes. He didn’t know about the code. If Lucius had received the message, he’d have been suspicious at once, but Arsakes had no reason to be. Which means the man knew that Lucius would be out of the way.”

“It seemed like a good way to earn a bit of extra coin,” Arsakes said without regret. “I had the silk sent to Rome and was paid out by the same banker you’d set up in Antioch. Banker knew you and I both worked for Herminius and handed me the money without question.”

Lucius turned a faint shade of green. “He did, did he?”

Arsakes coughed, then winced and pressed his hand to his abdomen. “It was a nice business. Herminius was paying you more and more. Why shouldn’t my mates and I make something out of it?”

Lucius sighed. “I can follow your logic, I suppose. I’d already decided Manius and I should cease our trade now that I was traveling so much. The Parthian who went regularly to Rome had retired, plus I didn’t want anyone becoming suspicious of us.”

“But he didn’t cease,” Arsakes said. “At least the man who called himself Xerxes didn’t. I suppose he eventually decided the business was growing too hot for him, because he recently tried to extort a huge sum from us to keep quiet about it to Herminius. Chasing you to Rome was a good excuse to come and tell Xerxes we weren’t paying him anything. And then we find the man called Xerxes has been dead for more than two years. We thought you had something to do with that.”

“How could I have? When he died, I was in Ctesiphon, so pleased with myself for rising so high in Herminius’s graces.” Lucius’s voice cracked.

“What we must determine.” Cassia’s cool tones cut in. “Is what frightened the real Xerxes enough to quit the trade, and why someone decided to kill him six years after that.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Lucius said quickly. “I never wanted Manius to die. I assumed he’d finish out his time as a gladiator, and then we’d reunite and tear up the world, as we’d planned.”

“Wasn’t me that killed him,” Arsakes said. “Two years ago I was doing my job in Antioch, guarding warehouses and shipments for Herminius. Why would I want to kill Xerxes, when I was making money from him? Anyway, you tell me he was killed in the games, like any gladiator might be.”

“Not at all,” Cassia said in her crisp way. “He was poisoned.”

“Poisoned?” Lucius stared at her. “How could he have been?”

Arsakes said nothing at all.

“That is what we are trying to determine,” Cassia said. “I believe this false Xerxes worried the true Xerxes would find out he’d kept up the silk trade with Lucius—or with who they thought was Lucius. I assume you continued to use Lucius’s name?” she asked Arsakes.

Arsakes shrugged. “Easiest.”

Lucius winced.

“Why wait so long to kill him?” I asked Cassia. “If he gave up the trade years ago, why did he die at the Saturnalian games only the year before I was freed?”

“At the Saturnalian games?” Lucius asked me in sudden dismay.

“Yes,” I said tersely. “Why?”

Lucius’s throat worked. “I sent him a letter. I told you, when I returned to Antioch that year, I thought Manius and I could start up the trade again. I sent word to him and asked if he wanted to continue, and maybe I’d come to Rome to discuss it. Manius never wrote back, and I assumed that meant he was no longer interested. Herminius sent me off again soon after that.” Lucius’s voice became faint. “Manius would have received the message right before Saturnalia.”