Conan Pastiche - Conan Part 12

The watchmen s.h.i.+fted their bills uncertainly and glanced at Demetrio for orders. Speechless at hearing the all-powerful police thus defied, they expected a command to seize the barbarian. But Demetrio did not give it. Arus glanced from one to the other, wondering what was going on in the keen brain behind Demetrio's hawk face. Perhaps the magistrate feared to arouse the barbaric frenzy of the Cimmerian, or perhaps there was an honest doubt in his mind.

"I have not accused you of killing Kallian," he snapped. "But you must admit that appearances are against you. How did you enter the Temple?"

"I hid in the shadows of the warehouse behind this building," Conan answered grudgingly. "When this dog," he jerked a thumb at Arus, "pa.s.sed by and rounded the corner, I ran to the wall and scaled it-"

"A lie!" broke in Arus. "No man could climb that straight wall!"

"Have you never seen a Cimmerian scale a sheer cliff?" asked Demetrio.

"I am conducting this investigation. Go on, Conan."

"The corner is decorated with carvings," said the Cimmerian. "It was easy to climb. I gained the roof before this dog came around the building again. I found a trap door, fastened with an iron bolt that went through it and was locked on the inside. I hewed the bolt in twain-"

Aras, remembering the thickness of the bolt, gasped and moved back from the barbarian, who scowled abstractedly at him and continued:

"I pa.s.sed through the trap door and entered an upper chamber. I did not pause but came straightway to the stair-"

"How did you know where the stair was? Only Kallian's servants and his rich patrons were ever allowed in those upper rooms."

Conan stared in stubborn silence.

"What did you do after you reached the stair?" demanded Demetrio.

"I came straight down it," muttered the Cimmerian. "It let into the chamber behind yonder curtained door. As I came down the stairs, I heard the opening of another door. When I looked through the hanging, I saw this dog standing over the dead man."

"Why did you come from your hiding place?"

"Because at first I thought him another thief, come to steal that which-" The Cimmerian checked himself.

"-That which you yourself had come after!" finished Demetrio. "You did not tarry in the upper rooms, where the richest goods are stored. You were sent here by someone who knows the Temple well, to steal some special thing!"

"And to kill Kallian Publico!" exclaimed Dionus. "By Mitra, we've hit it! Sieze him, men-well have a confession before morning!"

With a foreign curse Conan leaped back, whipping out his sword with a viciousness that made the keen blade hum.

"Back, if you value your curs' lives!" he snarled. "Because you dare to torture shopkeepers and strip and beat harlots to make them talk, don't think you can lay your fat paws on a hillman! Fumble with your bow, watchman, and I'll burst your guts with my heel!"

"Wait!" said Demetrio. "Call off your dogs, Dionus. I'm still not convinced that he is the murderer." Demetrio leaned towards Dionus and whispered something that Arus could not catch, but which he suspected of being a plan to trick Conan into parting with his sword.

"Very well," grunted Dionus. "Fall back, men, but keep an eye on him."

"Give me your sword," said Demetrio to Conan.

"Take it if you can!" snarled Conan.

The inquisitor shrugged. "Very well. But do not try to escape. Men with crossbows watch the house on the outside."

The barbarian lowered his blade, although he relaxed only slightly the tense watchfulness of his att.i.tude. Demetrio turned again to the corpse.

"Strangled," he muttered. "Why strangle him when a sword stroke is so much quicker and surer? These Cimmerians are born sword in hand, as it were; I never heard of their killing a man in this manner."

"Perhaps to divert suspicion," said Dionus.

"Possibly." Demetrio felt the body with experienced hands. "Dead at least half an hour. If Conan tells the truth about when he entered the Temple, he could hardly have slain the man before Arus entered. True, he might be lying-he might have broken in earlier."

"I climbed the wall after Arus made his last round," growled Conan.

"So you say." Demetrio brooded over the dead man's throat, which had been crushed to a pulp of purplish flesh. The head sagged awry on splintered vertebrae. Demetrio shook his head in doubt. "Why should a murderer use a cable thicker than a man's arm? And what terrible constriction could have so crushed his neck?"

He rose and walked to the nearest door opening into the corridor.

"Here is a bust knocked from a stand near the door," he said, "and here the floor is scratched, and the hangings in the doorway are pulled awry... Kallian Publico must have been attacked in that room. Perhaps he broke away from his a.s.sailant, or dragged the fellow with him as he fled. Anyway, he staggered out into the corridor, where the murderer must have followed and finished him."

"And if this heathen isn't the murderer, then where is he?" demanded the prefect.

"I have not exonerated the Cimmerian yet," said the inquisitor. "But we'll investigate that room-"

He halted and wheeled, listening. From the street sounded a rattle of chariot wheels, which approached and then abruptly ceased.

"Dionus!" barked the inquisitor. "Send two men to find that chariot.

Bring the driver here."

"From the sound," said Arus, who was familiar with all the noises of the street, "I should say that it stopped in front of Promero's house, just on the other side of the silk merchant's shop."

"Who is Promero?" asked Demetrio.

"Kallian Publico's chief clerk."

"Fetch him here with the driver," said Demetrio.

Two guardsmen clomped away. Demetrio still studied the body; Dionus, Arus, and the remaining policemen watched Conan, who stood sword in hand like a bronze figure of brooding menace. Presently sandaled feet echoed outside, and the two guardsmen entered with a strongly-built, dark-skinned man in the leather helmet and long tunic of a charioteer, with a whip in his hand, and a small, timid-looking individual typical of that cla.s.s which, risen from the ranks of artisans, supplies right-hand men for wealthy merchants and traders. The small man recoiled with a cry from the sprawling bulk on the floor.

"Oh, I knew evil would come of this!" he wailed.

Demetrio said: "You are Promero, the chief clerk, I suppose. And you?"

"Enaro, Kallian Publico's charioteer."

"You do not seem overly moved at the sight of his corpse," observed Demetrio.

The dark eyes flashed. "Why should I be moved? Someone has only done that which I longed to do but dared not."

"So!" murmured the inquisitor. "Are you a free man?"

Enaro's eyes were bitter as he drew aside his tunic, showing the brand of the debtor slave on his shoulder.

"Did you know your master was coming here tonight?"

"Nay. I brought the chariot to the Temple this evening as usual. He entered it, and I drove toward his villa. However, before we came to the Palian Way, he ordered me to turn and drive him back. He seemed much agitated."