Fortunately, initiative was not needed here. Sheer force broke through the doors. The huge place was empty.

Helena Justina came up and touched my arm. "Listen-how could Florius have traveled along this part of the wharves with all the soldiers on guard?"

"This is the gang's warehouse, love. They killed that baker here-"

"And they know the customs men were watching it! They would be daft to come back here. Marcus, they had plenty of money. Why would they stick to one warehouse? I bet they have others-and while you are all searching this area, have you noticed that the warehouses also extend further upriver? The gang could just as well be using one on the far side, beyond the ferry landing stage."

Helena was right. The ferryman had known about Florius.

I pelted back along the wharf. I crossed the road by the customs house, shouting to the legionaries to help. There was a landing stage for the ferry, beyond the forum road. Beyond that were more lines of warehouses, packed along yet another wharf. While Silvanus and I had run in the wrong direction, his men must have continued to threaten the prisoners, and we found a group of soldiers breaking through various warehouse doors. The next part of our search took longer than I can bear to think about. One after another the stores were broken open. Eventually, with new information screwed out of the prisoners, the soldiers converged on what they thought was the right place. With Helena at my heels I pushed through, heedless of splinters. It was pitch-dark. Someone handed in a torch. "Petro!"

There was no answer. "Petronius!"

This place was crammed with loot. I started forcing my way past chests and bales. More slender, Helena grabbed the torch and slipped past me through the piles of stuff, rushing ahead into the darkness, also calling out. Behind us soldiers were still breaking in.

Helena found Petronius first. Her scream chilled my blood. "Marcus, Marcus, help him-quick!"

LVI

He had not answered because he could not do so. Every ounce of his being was under stress. At the limit of his endurance, even our arrival almost caused him to waver. Hope was the last distraction he needed.

Florius had left him absolutely stuck. He had taken his time to set this up. Petronius was tied by the waist with several long ropes lashed in a star-shaped pattern so he could not change position. Arms above his head, he was desperately holding on to a ring at the end of a long chain. It went up and over a pulley on a loading arm. To the other end Florius had attached a great crate of ballast. You know what ballast is-rocks, big enough to hold an empty ship steady in a storm. I could see the rocks piled high on top. It was perilously balanced immediately above Petro, jutting out over the edge of a walkway. An iron bar supported it halfway along. If Petro let go of the chain-or even loosed it a few inches-the crate would tip off its supports and crash straight down on him. The game was, Petronius had to last as long as possible, knowing that when his strength gave out, he would be crushed to death.

Sinews were standing out in his forehead. Beads of sweat shone on his face. His mouth was a tight line, his eyes were squeezed shut; he was close to the limit.

Helena and I flung ourselves beside him and dragged on the chain. I got one hand through the ring; there was no room for more. It was almost impossible to grip the cold slippery metal of the chain itself. Petronius breathed, but dared not give up. I carried less weight than him, though I did know how to use it; Helena was no feather, but she had never been the type of tomboy who did training at a gym. We all three clung on. The soldiers behind us must have been distracted by the chests of loot. I yelled for help, but we couldn't wait.

"Helena, fetch that coil of rope-" She obeyed, though when she loosed her grip on the chain, I felt it nearly jerk free. I could hardly talk to give instructions; luckily she was sharp. At my strained nod, she forced the rope through the ring we were holding, then ran to secure it. The upper walkway was supported on huge timber posts. Helena was able to wind the rope around the nearest. She had the sense to turn both ends several times, then tried to knot them.

Men were now up on the walkway, running. A soldier appeared alongside us. Those above were seeking ways to take the strain on the balanced crate. Petro and I still clung on, scared to believe we were safe. We were not, yet. The nearest soldier desperately slashed his sword through the ropes holding Petronius. More men arrived. Nervously, Petro and I let go of the chain. Despite our alarm, Helena's rope held. Arms caught Petro as he staggered. A soldier and I dragged him sideways as half his ties were released. Almost fainting, Petronius sank to the ground. Then the timber post creaked ominously. Suddenly the rope gave way.

The crate crashed down in a hail of dust and rock. Amid tremendous noise, huge chunks of debris missed us all by inches. Petronius lay groaning open-mouthed, as the blood returned to his arms and hands. Coughing, Helena and I held him, massaging his stricken limbs and aching spine. His tunic was soaked, his brown hair plastered to his head with sweat.

"Dear gods. That was too close, my lad." I waited for him to say, What kept you? but he was too shocked to speak. He leaned his head against my arm, eyes closed but gradually breathing more easily. A soldier brought a water bottle. We got some into him.

Above his head, my eyes met Helena's. She reached over and touched

my cheek. I turned and kissed her palm as she withdrew it. Petronius forced himself to revive enough to smile at her.

He looked at me searchingly. I reported the best and worst. "We caught most of the gang. We've got Norbanus, but Florius was somehow missed. How in Hades did you and he get out?"

"Uniforms," croaked Petro. He waved his arm and I saw familiar crimson material lying discarded by a bale. "Red tunics."

"Crixus!" The bad centurion had supplied the one disguise that would take Florius unnoticed almost anywhere if there was enough chaos going on around him.

"He's taking a boat." Petro was still mithering. "He had one hidden upriver. They've loaded more loot-" "Don't talk," murmured Helena. "Never mind me-where's Maia?"

"We still don't know. But not here."

Petronius squirmed into a more upright position. He held his head in his hands, elbows on his knees. He moaned with frustration and misery. "I don't think they ever had her."

"They said they did," I reminded him.

"They said a lot of things."

Long before he should have done, he was dragging himself upright. I gave him a shoulder to lean on. Once we brought him outside, Helena tried to wrap him in Maia's cloak; he would have none of it, but when she told him whose it was, he took the garment and kept it over one shoulder, nuzzling his cheek against the woolen folds.

We walked up the quay back to the prisoners at the customs house. Petronius took note of all of them. He knew some of them from Rome. Silvanus was organizing search parties for Florius and any other missed gang members. The wharf was still sealed, on the off chance we would roust them out. Men were searching all the warehouses. A bunch of the troops had huddled around one of the abandoned full-size ballistae, exclaiming over its sophisticated design. "It's a damned automatic repeater-look, you can fill this barrel and it fires off a whole load of bolts without having to reload-" I was amused to see Frontinus among them.

Eventually the governor tore himself away and arranged to remove the prisoners to safe custody, all except Norbanus. Petro wanted him.

As soon as the customs house was cleared for use, we took Norbanus in there. Petro picked up his sword as we went in. He first kicked aside but then gathered up another weapon, one of the vicious handheld crossbows. "I've always wanted one of these!"