Queen of the Night

fresh employment.'
    Claudia asked both men to relax and refilled their cups, adding that she'd drunk enough herself but was pleased to see Sallust. She enquired after his family, his cousins, brothers, uncles, sisters, sons and daughters, all of whom helped him in his searches throughout Rome. At last the conversation turned to the business in hand. Claudia asked Sallust if he'd heard about the kidnappings. Sallust nodded.
    'Of course,' he murmured, 'everyone has.'
    'And have you ever been hired to look for the hostages?'
    Sallust shook his head. 'Not the pond I'd fish in,' he declared. 'Too dangerous.'
    'What do you mean?' Claudia asked.
    'Well…' Sallust paused, searching for his words.
    Claudia glanced quickly at Celades, a gentle man with tired eyes and full lips, his nose slightly twisted. She realised the moustache and beard hid a deep scar along his right cheek which ran under his chin and down to his neck.
    'Yes, that's it.' Sallust spoke up. 'Whoever is organising these kidnappings is a gang-leader – I stay well away from that. Anyway,' he sighed, 'here is Celades, former Pictish warrior, captured south of the Great Wall fourteen years ago and brought to Rome. He was sold as a slave to the house of Valerius Gratus, where he excelled himself as a cook. Freed by a grateful master, Celades was about to set himself up as a chef when his would-be patron abruptly died. Valerius' son and heir has no interest in him and refuses to support him. So Celades has bought his own stove and grill to become an itinerant chef. He is well known in the Coelian Hill quarter.' Sallust gestured with his hand. 'When Presbyster Sylvester asked me to find someone from the Pictish nation, it wasn't hard. My family have often been nourished by the best of his dishes; an excellent cook.' He added wistfully, 'Very good indeed.'
    Claudia stared curiously; the Pict gazed sadly back. He had tried to present himself as cleanly and tidily as possible, but his tunic was frayed and stained. She noticed a burn mark on his left arm smeared with grease, probably goose fat.
    'You weren't always called Celades?' She smiled.
    The Pict grinned back in a fine display of hard white teeth, some sharpened like those of a dog. 'My tribal name is Ogadimla,' he declared harshly. 'I come from a clan which lived far to the north of the Great Wall.' He paused and shrugged, i wasn't much of a warrior.' He smiled again, 'Oh, I can tell you fearsome stories, but the truth is, our chieftain, a fool born and bred, relished my cooking.' Celades paused as if collecting his thoughts. His command of the lingua franca was excellent, although he had difficulty with certain letters and words. 'My chief liked his food, so I was always included in the war band. Oh, I looked a sight.' He tugged at his beard. 'This was black as night. I painted my face and body. I could grunt like a boar, snarl like a wolf.' He abruptly lunged forward, face towards Claudia, and roared. 'Be as fearsome as a bear.'
    Claudia laughed and clapped her hands.
    'Anyway, by your reckoning, fourteen, fifteen years ago, our tribe heard how the Romans south of the wall were still fighting amongst themselves, so cattle, women and treasures were all to be had. War bands were already returning laden with loot, and our chieftain thought he would try his hand. So south wc trotted, brave warriors all. As we approached the Great Wall, the fort was deserted, the gates open. We slipped through, down into the open countryside but there really was little to be had. We journeyed on, travelling in the morning or late at night, keeping away from the highways and the roads. Now and again we came across the occasional deserted villa, which we looted. We all wanted to go back, there was something very wrong, but our chieftain was insistent: he'd declared he'd return home laden with riches, and that was what he intended.
    'Our end came soon enough, and it wasn't the Romans. We struck east to the coast, hoping to attack the fishing villages or the occasional villa, and were ambushed by a group of pirates. We fled, and that was the beginning of our troubles. We'd had enough of playing the warrior,- we wanted to go back to our village, so we retreated north, but of course we were weakened and became lost. Eventually we encountered a troop of Roman cavalry scouring the countryside, and you can guess what happened. We were caught out in the open; there was nothing we could do. I'd had enough of fighting. I simply threw down