ripped off altogether. Half the straw of the body had been pulled away and the rest was all over the place. As I held the pathetic remains, they fell into two pieces. "Poor Fellow's been thoroughly ravaged! You use these as decoys, don't you?"
"In the ring," said Buxus, still playing the unhelpful misery.
"You throw them in to draw the beasts' attention, and sometimes to madden them?"
"Yes, Falco."
Some extremely maddened creature had torn at the manikin I was holding. "What's this wrecked one doing here?"
"Must be just an old one," said Buxus, managing to find the innocent expression I had no faith in.
I looked around. Everywhere was neat. This was a yard where items were routinely stacked, counted, inventoried and put away. Anything that was broken would be replaced or repaired. The straw men were kept on ceiling hooks in the same shack as the safety poles. All the used decoys that currently dangled there had been rebound to a reasonable shape.
I tucked the two halves of the dismembered figure under my arm, making a big point of confiscating the evidence. "On two occasions last night there must have been quite a commotion near Leonidas' cage--when he was fetched, and when he was brought home. You claim you missed all of it. So are you now going to tell me, Buxus, where you really were that evening?"
"I was here in bed," he repeated. "I was here and I heard nothing."
I was a good Roman citizen. No matter how brazenly he was defying me, I knew better than to beat up another citizen's slave.
IX
WHEN WE RETURNED to the main area Buxus pointedly involved himself in his work while I took a last look around the cages. He surrounded himself with the four ostriches, who nuzzled close, lining their feet with the exaggerated delicacy of any farmyard fowls. "Watch yourself: Falco; they can give a hefty kick."
Kicking was not their only talent; one of them took a fancy to the wavy-edged braid around the neck of my tunic and kept leaning over my shoulder to give it a peck.
The keeper made no attempt to control the pestilential things, and I soon gave up my sleuthing, which was undoubtedly what he had hoped.
I walked back to the office, still holding the scraps of the straw man. Anacrites was talking to Calliopus. They both eyed my trophy. I propped up the pieces on a stool and said nothing about it.
"Calliopus, your lion was taken out on an excursion last night, and not--presumably--because his doctor had recommended fresh air carriage trips."
"That's impossible," the lanista assured me. When I described the evidence he merely scowled
"You did not sanction the trip?"
"Of course not, Falco. Don't be ridiculous."
"Does it cause you concern that somebody made Leonidas their plaything on an illicit night out?"
"Of course it does."
"Any idea who might have done it?"
"None at all."
"It must have been someone who felt confident about handling lions."
"Mindless thieves."
"Yet thoughtful enough to bring Leonidas back."
"Madness," moaned Calliopus, burying any real feelings in a show of theatrical woe. "It's incomprehensible!"
"Had it ever happened before to your knowledge?"
"Certainly not. And it won't happen again."
"Well not now Leonidas is dead!" provided Anacrites. His sense of humour was infantile.
I tried ignoring my partner, which was always the safest way to deal with him except when he was actually hiring hitmen and had been seen writing my name on a scroll. Then I watched him very closely indeed.
"Buxus has not been very helpful, Calliopus. I wanted him to give me some clues as to how the lion could have been pinched--and, indeed, put back in his cage afterwards--without anybody noticing."
"I'll speak to Buxus," Calliopus fussed. "Please leave this business to me, Falco. I really don't see why you have to involve yourself." Behind his back, Anacrites nodded agreement vigorously.
I gave Calliopus my threatening auditor's sneer. "Oh we always take a keen interest in anything peculiar that happens while we
"In the ring," said Buxus, still playing the unhelpful misery.
"You throw them in to draw the beasts' attention, and sometimes to madden them?"
"Yes, Falco."
Some extremely maddened creature had torn at the manikin I was holding. "What's this wrecked one doing here?"
"Must be just an old one," said Buxus, managing to find the innocent expression I had no faith in.
I looked around. Everywhere was neat. This was a yard where items were routinely stacked, counted, inventoried and put away. Anything that was broken would be replaced or repaired. The straw men were kept on ceiling hooks in the same shack as the safety poles. All the used decoys that currently dangled there had been rebound to a reasonable shape.
I tucked the two halves of the dismembered figure under my arm, making a big point of confiscating the evidence. "On two occasions last night there must have been quite a commotion near Leonidas' cage--when he was fetched, and when he was brought home. You claim you missed all of it. So are you now going to tell me, Buxus, where you really were that evening?"
"I was here in bed," he repeated. "I was here and I heard nothing."
I was a good Roman citizen. No matter how brazenly he was defying me, I knew better than to beat up another citizen's slave.
IX
WHEN WE RETURNED to the main area Buxus pointedly involved himself in his work while I took a last look around the cages. He surrounded himself with the four ostriches, who nuzzled close, lining their feet with the exaggerated delicacy of any farmyard fowls. "Watch yourself: Falco; they can give a hefty kick."
Kicking was not their only talent; one of them took a fancy to the wavy-edged braid around the neck of my tunic and kept leaning over my shoulder to give it a peck.
The keeper made no attempt to control the pestilential things, and I soon gave up my sleuthing, which was undoubtedly what he had hoped.
I walked back to the office, still holding the scraps of the straw man. Anacrites was talking to Calliopus. They both eyed my trophy. I propped up the pieces on a stool and said nothing about it.
"Calliopus, your lion was taken out on an excursion last night, and not--presumably--because his doctor had recommended fresh air carriage trips."
"That's impossible," the lanista assured me. When I described the evidence he merely scowled
"You did not sanction the trip?"
"Of course not, Falco. Don't be ridiculous."
"Does it cause you concern that somebody made Leonidas their plaything on an illicit night out?"
"Of course it does."
"Any idea who might have done it?"
"None at all."
"It must have been someone who felt confident about handling lions."
"Mindless thieves."
"Yet thoughtful enough to bring Leonidas back."
"Madness," moaned Calliopus, burying any real feelings in a show of theatrical woe. "It's incomprehensible!"
"Had it ever happened before to your knowledge?"
"Certainly not. And it won't happen again."
"Well not now Leonidas is dead!" provided Anacrites. His sense of humour was infantile.
I tried ignoring my partner, which was always the safest way to deal with him except when he was actually hiring hitmen and had been seen writing my name on a scroll. Then I watched him very closely indeed.
"Buxus has not been very helpful, Calliopus. I wanted him to give me some clues as to how the lion could have been pinched--and, indeed, put back in his cage afterwards--without anybody noticing."
"I'll speak to Buxus," Calliopus fussed. "Please leave this business to me, Falco. I really don't see why you have to involve yourself." Behind his back, Anacrites nodded agreement vigorously.
I gave Calliopus my threatening auditor's sneer. "Oh we always take a keen interest in anything peculiar that happens while we
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