Read Online Last Seen in Massilia by Steven Saylor - Free Book Online Page B

alarmed. He lay motionless on his back, his eyes shut, his face pale. A moment later, to my relief, he coughed and his eyelids fluttered.
    “If the burden’s too much, then you’ll simply have to run home and fetch more slaves to carry us,” said my mysterious protector, his grating voice made more grating by exasperation.
    “Wait, Scapegoat!” The cooler-headed of the two old men who had been arguing over me stepped forward. “You can’t simply run off with these men. They’ve come from outside the city. That one spoke Greek with a Roman accent. Despite his blasphemy, Calamitos was right about one thing—they might be dangerous. For all we know, they’re assassins, or spies. We must hand them over to the soldiers.”
    “Nonsense. Am I not the scapegoat, duly chosen by the priests of Artemis and invested by the Timouchoi? For the duration of the crisis, all godsends are mine, to dispose of as I see fit. That includes fish washed up on the shores of Massilia—and I hereby claim these two stranded fish. No doubt they were cast upon this man-made beach by Artemis herself. The big one looks like a beached whale.”
    “The fellow’s mad!” muttered one of the old men.
    “But legally he may be right,” said another. “Godsends do belong to the scapegoat….”
    While the old men argued among themselves, strong arms scooped me up and swung me around. I was in no condition either to resist or assist. They carried me like dead weight. In glimpses I took in my surroundings. We were in a corner of the city. Looming over us were the high walls of Massilia, very different when seen from within, for they were lined with platforms and crisscrossed with stairways, and at their foot was the half-drained reservoir from which we had emerged. A little ways off, twin towers flanked the massive bronze gate that was the main entrance into the city. Past the gate the wall bent sharply backand fronted the harbor, for beyond that stretch of wall I saw the tops of ships’ masts.
    I was carried toward a litter, which sat alone in the middle of the large square that opened off the main gate. All the buildings facing the square appeared empty. Windows were shuttered; shops were closed. Except for the litter bearers, there was hardly a person in sight.
    The green curtains of the litter parted. I was gently placed upon a bed of green cushions. Opposite me, reclining among more cushions, was my rescuer. He was dressed in a green chiton that matched the cushions and the curtains of the litter; so much green was confusing. His gangly limbs seemed too long for the space; he had to bend his knees up sharply to accommodate me. He was thick in the middle, but his face was gaunt. The hair on his head was pale and thin. A narrow strip of wispy beard outlined his sharp chin.
    A moment later, the two slaves who had carried me, joined by two others from among the bearers, managed to carry Davus to the litter. I moved over and they deposited him beside me. He looked about, bleary-eyed.
    The stranger seemed to find us amusing. His thin lips curved into a smile and there was laughter in his dull gray eyes. “Welcome to Massilia, whoever you are!”
    He clapped his hands. The litter was hoisted aloft. I felt nauseous. Our host noticed my distress.
    “Go ahead and be sick if you need to,” he said. “Try to do it outside the litter; but if you can’t manage, don’t worry. If you soil a few cushions, I’ll simply throw them away.”
    I swallowed hard. “It will pass.”
    “Oh, don’t hold it in!” he advised. “A man should never restrain his body’s natural impulses. If nothing else, I’ve certainly learned that in the last few months.”
    Beside me, Davus recovered his wits. He stirred and sat upright. “Father-in-law, where are we?”
    Our host answered. “You are in the most wicked city on earth, young man, and you’ve come at the most wicked time in her history. I should know; I was born here. And here I’ll die. In between