When the magistrate took his borrowed trireme back again round the headland, I asked him to drop my small party at Oplontis-though I did not tell him why. Gordianus knew. He had set himself the task of escorting the body of Aufidius Crispus to Neapolis, so now it was just Larius, Milo and me. Larius had done his bit for the Empire that day; I left him at the inn.
Milo and I went to the farm.
As we approached tentatively through the trellised arch we found the same smell and the same air of sour neglect. At first I was pleased to see that the dog was missing from his chain; then I realized it might mean he was roaming loose. When we got there it was dusk; after a long hot day the waft of ill-tended animals and old dung was stomach curling. Milo hung back.
'You're useless,' I told him cheerily. 'Trust me to lumber myself with you. Milo, big dogs are like bodybuilders-perfect cowards until they smell fear.' There was heavy perspiration on the steward's objectionable face, and I could smell his fear myself. 'Anyway, he hasn't found us yet…'
We tackled the pungent outbuildings before we broached the house. In the split-boarded midden that passed for a stable we discovered a sturdy skewbald horse I recognized.
'Pertinax had this gypsy as his packhorse when he was following me down to Croton! I wonder if the bastard's ridden off somewhere on the roan?'
I led the way, biffing at blue flies, and we were nearing the house when we both stopped dead: intercepted by the guard dog.
'Don't worry, Milo; I like dogs-'
I did, but not this one. He was growling. He would be. I deduced this was not a mutt who would scamper off if someone looked him in the eye and shouted boo.
He was as tall as a man if he stood on his hind legs, one of those browny-black creatures they breed for aggression, with a neck like an ox and small, mean ears. Milo gave him a few pounds but both the dog and I were aware Fido weighed as much as me. I was the kind of bite-sized titbit this bully liked for a target; the hound was staring coldbloodedly straight at me.
'Good boy, Cerberus!' I encouraged him steadily. Behind me I heard Milo gurgle. What I needed was a poisoned chicken; but since Milo had watched Petronius have his skull split I was perfectly willing to let him be the bait instead.
I murmured to Milo, 'If you've got a bit of rope on you, I'll put him on a lead.' The dog had other plans. The rumble in the canine's throat assumed a more ominous note. I applied myself to calming him.
I was still talking when he sprang.
I rammed one elbow in his chest and braced both feet while I tried to hold his head and fend him off. I could smell dead meat on his breath, and his dentistry was unbelievable. I should have shouted at him fiercely; you have to dominate a mobster like that. I never had the chance.
'Stand back, Milo-'
Same old Milo: give him an order and he did the opposite. Luckily for both of us, Milo's idea of taming a dog was to grab him from behind, then jerk up his snout, twist it sharply, and break his neck.
We stood in the yard, frankly quaking. I admitted to Milo that I reckoned we were quits.