but they were big enough and moving fast enough to do serious damage if we collided. Occasionally one of the sparring men crashed so close I was forced to scramble aside. They ignored what I was trying to do. That in itself was unnatural. People are normally more curious.
"There's no hope of prints or spots of blood. We're too late--" I stood up. Time for a new tack. "Buxus, if you had been moving Leonidas to the arena, how would you have done it? I presume you don't take the big growlers out for walkies on dog leads?"
The slave looked shifty for some reason. "We have traveling cages."
"Where are they kept?"
Controlling his reluctance he led me slowly around the back of the barracks to a row of lean-to stores. Impassively he watched as I glanced into most of them, finding bales of straw and tools--buckets, long poles for controlling angry animals, straw figures to distract the wild beasts in the arena, and finally under an open-sided shed three or four compact cages on wheels, neat enough to be squeezed between the cages of the menagerie, and just large enough to transport a lion or leopard from place to place.
"How do you get the beasts inside one of these?" "It's quite a game!"
"But you're well practiced?"
Buxus squirmed in his rough tunic; he was embarrassed, though pleased, by my praising his skill. I examined the nearest cage closely. There was nothing suspicious. I was walking away when intuition drew me back. Empty, the wheeled cages were easy to manipulate. I managed to pull out the one I had examined single handed; Buxus stood by, glaring. He said nothing and made no attempt to stop me, but nor did he weigh in to help. Perhaps he knew, or guessed, what I would find: the next cage did provide evidence. Kneeling down inside it, I soon discovered traces of blood.
I jumped out and dragged the second cage into the light. "Someone has made a very crude attempt to hide this, simply pulling out another cage and parking the significant one at the back."
"Oh really?" said Buxus.
"Pathetic!" I showed him the blood. "Seen that before?"
"I might have done. It's just an old stain."
"That stain is not too old, my mend. And it looks as if somebody tried to wash it away--the kind of useless scrubber my mother would refuse to have working on her kitchen floor." The watery run-off had been absorbed far along the grain of the wooden floor of the cage, but the original splashes of blood could still be seen as darker, more concentrated marks. "Not much effort went into it--or else there wasn't enough time to do a good job." "You think Leonidas was taken somewhere in this cart, Falco?"
"I bet he was."
"That's terrible."
I gave Buxus a sharp look. He seemed deeply unhappy, though I could not tell whether he was simply grieving for his lost big cat, or whether he was uncomfortable with my discovery and line of questioning "He was taken away and then brought back dead, Buxus. What's puzzling me, is how anyone could have extracted him from his normal cage without you hearing the commotion?"
"It's a real puzzle," the keeper said sorrowfully.
I kept my eyes boring into him. "He would have been quiet enough when he came back with the spear in him, but whoever delivered the corpse may well have been panicking I doubt if they were able to stop themselves making some noise."
"I just can't understand it," Buxus agreed. A barefaced lie.
"I don't think you're trying." He feigned not to notice my dangerously low tone.
I left the wheeled cage where it was. Someone else in this deceitful establishment could put it away again. Then something caught my eye, against the side wall of the shed. I pulled up what seemed to be a bundle of straw. What had attracted my attention were twined strands binding it into a definite form. "this is a straw man--or what's left of him." The crude shape had been savaged and torn. The ties at the tops of its legs were still in place but the shoulder bindings were broken. One of the arms and the head had been
"There's no hope of prints or spots of blood. We're too late--" I stood up. Time for a new tack. "Buxus, if you had been moving Leonidas to the arena, how would you have done it? I presume you don't take the big growlers out for walkies on dog leads?"
The slave looked shifty for some reason. "We have traveling cages."
"Where are they kept?"
Controlling his reluctance he led me slowly around the back of the barracks to a row of lean-to stores. Impassively he watched as I glanced into most of them, finding bales of straw and tools--buckets, long poles for controlling angry animals, straw figures to distract the wild beasts in the arena, and finally under an open-sided shed three or four compact cages on wheels, neat enough to be squeezed between the cages of the menagerie, and just large enough to transport a lion or leopard from place to place.
"How do you get the beasts inside one of these?" "It's quite a game!"
"But you're well practiced?"
Buxus squirmed in his rough tunic; he was embarrassed, though pleased, by my praising his skill. I examined the nearest cage closely. There was nothing suspicious. I was walking away when intuition drew me back. Empty, the wheeled cages were easy to manipulate. I managed to pull out the one I had examined single handed; Buxus stood by, glaring. He said nothing and made no attempt to stop me, but nor did he weigh in to help. Perhaps he knew, or guessed, what I would find: the next cage did provide evidence. Kneeling down inside it, I soon discovered traces of blood.
I jumped out and dragged the second cage into the light. "Someone has made a very crude attempt to hide this, simply pulling out another cage and parking the significant one at the back."
"Oh really?" said Buxus.
"Pathetic!" I showed him the blood. "Seen that before?"
"I might have done. It's just an old stain."
"That stain is not too old, my mend. And it looks as if somebody tried to wash it away--the kind of useless scrubber my mother would refuse to have working on her kitchen floor." The watery run-off had been absorbed far along the grain of the wooden floor of the cage, but the original splashes of blood could still be seen as darker, more concentrated marks. "Not much effort went into it--or else there wasn't enough time to do a good job." "You think Leonidas was taken somewhere in this cart, Falco?"
"I bet he was."
"That's terrible."
I gave Buxus a sharp look. He seemed deeply unhappy, though I could not tell whether he was simply grieving for his lost big cat, or whether he was uncomfortable with my discovery and line of questioning "He was taken away and then brought back dead, Buxus. What's puzzling me, is how anyone could have extracted him from his normal cage without you hearing the commotion?"
"It's a real puzzle," the keeper said sorrowfully.
I kept my eyes boring into him. "He would have been quiet enough when he came back with the spear in him, but whoever delivered the corpse may well have been panicking I doubt if they were able to stop themselves making some noise."
"I just can't understand it," Buxus agreed. A barefaced lie.
"I don't think you're trying." He feigned not to notice my dangerously low tone.
I left the wheeled cage where it was. Someone else in this deceitful establishment could put it away again. Then something caught my eye, against the side wall of the shed. I pulled up what seemed to be a bundle of straw. What had attracted my attention were twined strands binding it into a definite form. "this is a straw man--or what's left of him." The crude shape had been savaged and torn. The ties at the tops of its legs were still in place but the shoulder bindings were broken. One of the arms and the head had been
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