Bryon was calming Ferox when I descended the stairs.
'Well, I'm still looking for Barnabas-only now I know he's here!'
There was no doubt that the staff had been told to keep mum about the freedman's existence. Bryon scowled at me sullenly. 'He comes and goes. Mostly he goes; he's gone now.'
Ferox struggled wildly again, and Bryon complained I was frightening the horse. 'We can do this the easy way, Bryon-or not!'
'I don't know where he is, Falco-maybe talking with the old man. Discussing him is more than my life's worth-'
'From what I know of Barnabas, that's true!'
I stormed out.
I knew I had no hope of finding him, but if the old man and he were in open confederacy I reckoned the freedman would feel safe to remain on the premises.
I raged all through the farm frightening chickens, then searched the house. This time I meant everyone to realize I knew about him. I burst into empty salons, opened up attics, invaded the library. I turned over bedrooms, sniffing the air to judge whether anyone had recently been using them. I pawed the latrine sponges, counting how many were wet. I checked dining couches for dust or lack of it. Not one of the bleary-eyed slaves whom I rousted from their cubicles would be able to claim any longer that they did not know a thin man with a beard had been in their master's house, and that the Emperor's bad-tempered agent wanted him. They tumbled out and stood around half-naked until the villa was a blaze of lamps: wherever he had hidden himself, he must be stuck there now.
I made them drag chests from inglenooks and turn over hogsheads that stood empty in corners. After my efforts it would take them a week to put the place to rights. There was not a bale of unwashed laundry I had not unroped with a stab of my knife, or a grain sack I had not kicked until it split. A bag of chicken feathers they were saving to stuff a mattress made a fabulous mess. Cats fled yowling from my path. The roof-top pigeons shuffled their feet in the darkness, and cooed unhappily.
In the end, I banged into the day room where Helena and Marcellus were sitting together in silence, shattered by the devastation I had caused. Helena had a long woollen shawl wrapped tightly round her chest. I threw an extra stole across her knees.
'Did you find him?' asked the Consul, no longer pretending.
'Of course not. I'm a stranger; he must know your villa inside out. But he's here! I hope he's cramped in a bread oven with his face in the ashes and a loaf-rake poked in his ear! If he's taken to threatening your daughter-in-law, I hope someone lights the oven while he's there!'
I dropped on one knee beside Helena Justina. Marcellus must have seen the way I looked at her. I no longer cared. 'Don't worry; I won't leave!'
I could sense her suppressed anger as she addressed Marcellus over my head in a voice that shook with indignation. 'This is incredible!' It seemed as if she had been waiting for my support before she tackled him. 'I can hardly believe it-what was he doing in my room?'
'Foolishness. Did you recognize him?' the Consul asked guardedly.
'I should do!' blazed Helena. I had the odd sense that what she was saying meant more to Marcellus than to me. 'I suppose he wants to speak to me. I won't see him tonight when I'm tired and overwhelmed. Let him come tomorrow, and be properly announced-'
I stood up abruptly. 'Lady, this is not on!'
'Don't interfere, Falco!' The Consul flared up in ill-restrained anger. 'You have no business here; I want you to leave!'
'No; Falco is staying,' Helena returned in her steady way. 'He is working for me.' They fought over it in silence, but she had spoken so quietly he could see she was adamant.
The Consul shifted with irritation. 'Helena is in no danger here, Falco. No one will invade her privacy again.'
I wanted to rage that Barnabas was a killer, but decided not to make him doubly desperate by emphasizing that I knew.
Helena gave me a faint smile. 'Tonight was a mistake, but not a threat,' she said to me. I stopped arguing. A bodyguard's role is to fend off attackers; explaining their filthy motives is for liberal philosophers.
I pointed out to Marcellus how weary Helena was, and in view of what had happened earlier, made no bones of the fact I intended to see her all the way to her room.