Page 83 of Vesuvius

‘This boy is no one’s son. He’s a criminal.’ Darius gestured with the point of his sword. ‘Open the bag.’

‘And spoil the samples?’ said Felix.

‘And spoil thesamples?’ spluttered Adolphus.

The other guard grabbed, but Felix danced away. ‘Fine. Have it your way, but if wine stops flowing in Pompeii, on your head be it.’

The bag thumped to the ground, and Felix untied the strings. Lifting the flap, he allowed Adolphus and the guards and the gods themselves to peer inside.

Grapes spilled out. Hundreds of them.

Adolphus gasped. ‘Oh, wonderful samples. You have an eye for detail, like your father, young master.’

Felix filtered him out, holding Darius’s piercing gaze. Darius’s eye twitched. A bead of sweat dripped off his nose and splattered in the dirt.

Adolphus was fooled, but Darius knew too much. Felix unmistakably wasn’t the son of Lucius Lassius, and if Darius pressed the issue, the deception would unravel. Felix would face worse than Servius; he’d be turned over to Lassius himself for fraud once Servius had the helmet. Not exactly how Felix imagined meeting the parents of the boy he’d kissed would go.

Fumbling and stomping broke their glaring contest. Loren stumbled through the gap.

‘Wait!’ He staggered between Felix and Darius. ‘You cannot harm him on these lands. I order you—’

The sweet, clumsy fool was about to ruin it all.

Felix snarled, ‘Silence, Felix!’

‘What,’ said Loren, and it wasn’t a question. Silently pleading he would catch on, Felix twisted his hand until the signet ring flashed.

‘Who is this?’ Adolphus puffed his chest. ‘Who is this, issuing orders?’

‘I,’ Loren said, hesitation scraping. He swallowed. ‘Am Felix. His assistant.’

‘He’s Greek,’ Felix offered. ‘Speaks little Latin.’

Loren looked as if he’d swallowed a wasp. ‘Yes, I—’

‘In fact, he hardly speaks at all.’

Loren’s mouth shut with an audible click.

‘Interesting,’ Darius said, ‘that you two match the descriptions of the thieves we’re chasing. You should know guards talk to each other. Perhaps it wasn’t wise to throw around your affiliation with Isis at the city gate.’

‘On whose authority?’ Adolphus snapped. ‘You trespass onto the land I tend, accuse my master’s heir of theft, demand access to time-sensitive samples. I would like to know, who do you serve?’

Darius’s thick fingers tightened around the grip of his sword. Felix held perfectly still. One well-aimed swing, and his head would roll with the grapes. But anyone with even a passing knowledge of trade knew the power Lassius commanded. Even when Felix’s identity was revealed, the scandal of killing the vineyard’s heir unarmed on his own property would sink Darius’s reputation. And by extension, Servius’s. The line Darius trod was thinner than papyrus.

Slow, so slow, Darius inclined his head. Bowing to Felix must have ranked among the most painful tasks ever asked of him. ‘I meant no offence, wine-master. We’ll leave you to your business.Come, Maxim.’

Tilting his chin to his companion, Darius strode down the long row of trellises. Maxim shouldered past Adolphus, nearly knocking him over. Loren steadied him.

‘Horrible man,’ Adolphus said with a sniff, shaking off Loren and snapping his heels together to preserve his dwindling dignity. ‘Are you all right, sir?’

It took Felix a moment to realise the question was for him. He nodded and released the breath he’d been holding as Darius finally disappeared.

‘It is a sad day when a boy cannot fetch grapes off his own land without being harassed,’ Adolphus continued. ‘Why, when your father finds out—’

‘No,’ Felix said. ‘Don’t breathe a word to him.’

Adolphus frowned. ‘But—’

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