“Praetor, it is an honour that a man such as you is personally looking into Sextius’ disappearance. I will send a boy to your home later, if that is satisfactory. I’m sure my brother will be happy to receive you at your earliest convenience.”
As he reached the door, Domitius turned back to Julia. He hesitated, not wanting to sour the meeting with ill-chosen words.
“Julia, I have a question I feel I must ask. Is there any chance at all that your husband has used this situation to disappear? No debt or other reason he may need to leave the city?”
Julia looked saddened by the question but when her answer came it was tender.
“Praetor, if my husband were to leave the city he would have taken me with him. It saddens me to say because I would rather think of him safe, even if it meant he had left me. I fear the fate that has befallen him, please find him if he can be found.”
She showed them to the door herself, and even stood to watch them leave.
Domitius said nothing to Paulus until they were getting out of a litter at his home.
“So, tell me Paulus, is she an honest woman?” He raised his eyebrows in question.
“I think so, sir. If she wasn’t, she was a very good fake.”
“That was my thought. Tell me further, is it a coincidence that our man Sextius has business down by the Tiber, where most of the disappearances have happened?”
“I would stake my freedom on there being a link somewhere, sir.”
“As would I, Paulus.“
The praetor spent the rest of the day going about senatorial business. He attended a debate on the funding for a number of branches to be added to the aqueduct system. When time came to vote on the bill in question, he voted for it to pass.
There were a number of minor points attached to the bill that a few of his fellow senators were eager should pass. He owed more than one of them a favour or two and so was happy to vote on an issue that had little or no bearing on his own career.
With that done, he made his way to the public baths. It was a noisy and rather vulgar place in his opinion, but essential for keeping abreast with goings on in the city.
The tiled and domed roof of this particular house saw the naked bodies of the lowest, to the highest of society. It wasn’t unusual for decisions of importance to be sorted in the hot water of the baths before they ever reached the floor of the senate chambers. Beneath the noise of the hair-pluckers and vendors that did business on the side of the baths, whispered conversations of business and state were held.
He was glad to see his friend and fellow praetor, Rufius Fiscallus, already deep in conversation with an elderly man that Domitius didn’t know by sight.
He waited until the two had finished and insinuated himself into the conversation. After a formal introduction, the third man made his excuses and left.
Domitius asked after the health of Fiscallus’ wife and children. All were well, he was pleased to say. Eventually the conversation drifted towards Domitius’ intended target.
“How goes your investigation, Domitius?”
Domitius shrugged, “The Praetorian guard seem capable of undertaking their own investigation it seems,” he said, with just the right amount of mock relief in his voice.
“Ah. I take it our Otho is guarding his patch jealously?” Fiscallus smiled wanly.
“He is eager to solve the issue and save me the trouble, shall we say?”
“I would expect nought else. Have you had any luck manoeuvring around him?” asked Fiscallus.
“There may be one thing. I was wondering if you know the man in question. Tertius Sextius Colias?”
“I do, as a matter of fact. I’m surprised he has come into your thinking, he is one of the last men in Rome I would suspect of wrongdoing. I found the man scrupulous to a fault. Boring for it, as well. His wife is a looker though.”
Domitius nodded, but said nothing on the subject of the missing man's wife.
“Not a suspect, I’m afraid, a victim. He went missing in the first couple of days, apparently but wasn’t reported until recently. He was assumed away on business.”
“Oh my, that is a shame, bad things happening to good people. The way of this city it would seem.”
“Is there nothing more you can tell me about the man?”
“Little to tell I’m afraid, Domitius. Good men are ever the most boring, are they not?”
“Quite so,” replied Domitius, as he sank shoulder deep into the steaming water and let the echoing noise of the baths cascade over him.
After a while he got out of the water, and dried himself off. Paulus joined him for the walk home. The streets were full of evening pedestrians. Store owners were squeezing the last sales out of the day, and Rome felt like it always did.
It would take far more than an errant gang snatching people off the streets to stop the average Roman. They wore the fact that they lived in the biggest, most vibrant and at times violent, city in the world like a badge of honour. They faced the worst the city had to throw at them every day. It chewed people up and spat them out, yet they lived their lives and made their livings there.
Domitius couldn’t help but love the people of Rome. He hated the noise and filth, the danger and the violence that came with them, but the spirit they had was intoxicating. She was a metropolis without equal in all the world, and he was proud to be counted among her number.
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
Rome sat before them like a mythical city of the gods. Lucia stood and stared at it with wide-eyed wonder.
Never in her wildest dreams could she have imagined anything so vast and so magnificent. There were miles to go before they reached the city gates, but already she could feel the power of the place infecting the land around it. She tried looking away and found her gaze drawn back to the high walls and higher buildings beyond.
She almost imagined she could hear the noise and bustle of the people from this far away. Her mind filled the unseen streets with people of all kinds. Traders and shoppers, workers and beggars, all forms of human life could be found on those streets and her heart ached to be there already.
For the first time in days, thoughts of her father were driven from her mind by the sight of the city. Their mission was secondary, in this moment, to the delight she felt at reaching their destination. The road had been hard and the losses they had suffered harder still.
Antonius was still sorely missed by all of them, and Vitus in particular. The two legionaries had lost a fellow soldier on the route, and Regulus was suffering badly from the damage he had sustained in Mutina.
He drifted from moments of clarity to times of near unconsciousness. He was able to care for himself one moment and as helpless as a baby the next. She had taken it upon herself to care for him in these moments, even cleaning his mess when he soiled himself, which he sometimes did while in a helpless state.
When they got to Rome, she vowed to herself that she would make her uncle and aunt get him the best treatment they could find.
They had just finished a meal at the side of the road and Vitus called for them to remount. The Via Aurelia was wide and well travelled. They passed dozens of fellow travellers every mile and asked for news as they went.
Nobody was talking about Mutina or Germania. It seemed strange that they had travelled faster than the news. In these modern times, information travelled from one end of the empire to the other quicker than it ever had before, yet information about the Risen had been slow to reach people's ears.
Lucia had to guess that the fatal nature of crossing the path of the dead creatures meant that few people were able to spread the news. Hideous though it was to think of, the monsters were killing the only people able to tell the tale afterwards. It all made their journey that much more vital.
After a couple of hours they brought what seemed like an endless journey to a halt at the Gates of Rome.
They passed into a city more full of noise and energy than Lucia could ever have envisioned. Vitus ordered the le
gionaries to accompany them to her uncle's house, before reporting to the city barracks. Lucia heard him tell them not to speak of their mission, or the Risen, until he had informed the correct authorities. Rumours of such a nature could be damaging to his message if heard in the wrong way, by the wrong ears.
They paid a guide to lead them to reputable stables and then, on to her uncle's house. Vitus was the only one of the group who had visited Rome before and then only as a child. The streets were not a place for the unwary, and so they followed the guide as he lead them further towards the heart of the city.
At one point, the party had to stop and stare. Looming over the city, as if it had been placed there by the gods, was a building so big that it made Lucia feel like a child again.
Its curved walls contained hundreds of arches in levels that stretched towards the sky. Men were working high up on wooden scaffolding completing the magnificent building.
“It is the Flavian Amphitheatre, a new wonder of the world,” The guide told them. “It has taken the best part of ten years to build but it is nearly finished now. I hope to get tickets to the first games. It will be a sight to behold.”
“It already is amazing,” she sighed. “Just look at the size of it. I wonder how many people it will hold.”
“I’ve heard people say eighty thousand, but we like to exaggerate here in Rome, so I wouldn’t believe everything I heard,” said the guide with a crooked smile on his face.
They carried on through the city, it passed by like a flash. There was so much to look at. Even the mundane and everyday activities were given a glossy tint by the fact that they took place in such a place. The markets and inns all looked bigger and more exotic than the ones she had seen before.
It wasn’t long though, before they stood outside a large town house with a double metal gate and a large wooden door. The guide stood patiently while Vitus found him a couple of coins. Before leaving, he asked if they would need his services tomorrow.
Lucia told him that she knew where he was and would find him if she needed to. He left, jingling the coins before pocketing them.
The gates were not locked, and before she knocked on the door Lucia looked down at herself and then round at her two companions. She was dusty and dirty from the days on the road and the two men looked, if anything, worse.
Regulus was lucid at least but looked extremely tired, while Vitus looked eager to speak to her uncle.
She nodded that she was ready, and Vitus reached past her to knock loudly on the door. Before too long it was opened by a very tall and thin man who looked sternly at them but said nothing. Lucia swallowed with a dry mouth.
“Is the lady of the house in please? I very much need to see her.”
The man furrowed his brow and said, ‘I’m sorry, the lady is not taking visitors at this time. Maybe you could make an appointment, as is the proper way.” He made to close the door and Vitus pushed a hand against it.
“The young lady is your mistress's niece and she has travelled a long way with news of the lady's brother.”
The man’s expression changed to one of puzzlement. “I will inform the lady she has visitors. Please, step in off the street.”
They made their way into the house and the servant closed the door behind them. He left them standing in the hallway and disappeared into the interior. It was a brief moment before he returned, followed close behind by a woman of about forty with a short, not quite severe hairstyle and a long, plain ivory dress.
Lucia could immediately see the family resemblance to her father. The woman stood before her had her father's eyes. It filled her with happiness, and at the same time a deep sense of loss.
Lucia’s aunt spoke. “Paulus informs me you claim to be my…Lucia? Is that really you, girl?”
“Yes, Aunt.”
With those two words the barriers Lucia had been holding up broke. The floodgates against all that had happened to her. The loss of her father, the deaths of all the people in the cellar, her home in ruin, and the attempted rape in Mutina.
All of it came flooding in on her and she began to cry. Deep, sobbing cries that started in her stomach and exploded out of her in gusts. Her aunt rushed to her and enfolded her in her arms. She held her sobbing niece to her chest, and stroked her hair.
“There child, let it all out. You’re home now.”
Vitus and Regulus stood helplessly watching the scene, wishing they could be anywhere else, and to their relief Lucia’s aunt signalled to Paulus who he led them into another room. He fetched them drinks and a little food, which they delved into hungrily.
It was a while later that Lucia came in to join them. She had bathed and was wearing a clean dress. Her aunt followed her into the room and moved so that she was standing before the two soldiers. Vitus stood to be introduced, Regulus looked pale and stayed seated.
“My niece tells me you saved her life on more than one occasion, Centurion Protus.” She looked not quite stern but certainly formal, as she said it.
“My men and I did our duty, ma'am,” Vitus said.
“Modesty is a fine thing, Centurion but I believe you were alone when you saved her in Mutina. I thank you from the bottom of my heart, and I’m sure if my brother could, he would thank you, too.
“You are welcome to use my home for as long as you need to, we owe you a great debt. I am having a bath and fresh clothes prepared for you both, and afterwards I’m sure we can do better in the way of food.
“I have sent for the best doctor in Rome to see to your friend. Is there anything else I can do for you, centurion?”
“Ma’am I would be grateful if you would call me Vitus. All of my friends do.”
“Then Vitus, I insist you call me Flavia. That can’t be all though, it is scant thanks for all you have done.”
“I really need to speak to your husband quite urgently, Flavia.”
She smiled and nodded.
“My niece has told me a lot about your travels, Vitus, but I guess there is a lot she hasn’t told me. I assume my husband is about to hear the full story. He is out on business at the moment. I have sent a boy out to find him. I have no idea how long he will be so, in the meantime, let us make you comfortable.”
Vitus smiled warmly. “You are most kind. That would be wonderful.”
Vitus stepped out of the steaming water feeling like a different person. He dressed in a clean tunic and made his way out into a small courtyard, full of plants, where food was laid out for him. Lucia and Flavia were already eating, and he lay on a couch to join them. A slave brought him food and wine and before long, it was as if the past few weeks hadn’t happened.
Conversation was light, and deliberately not about their mission. Lucia looked much happier now, and her aunt was obviously trying to make her feel at home. Vitus remembered that she had invited the girl to Rome before this all happened, so it must not be too much of a surprise to have her niece in the house.
There was a slight cough from the doorway and Paulus stood, waiting to be invited to talk. Flavia nodded to him.
“The doctor has finished examining the young man, madam. He was hoping you would be free to speak to him.”
“Show him in, Paulus.”
The doctor came into the room. He was a small man, old and he walked with a stick, with dark skin and narrow-slit eyes. Vitus had expected a Greek, but this man was from a people Vitus had never seen before.
He had with him a child of no more than ten years. When he spoke, the language was quick and totally different to anything Vitus had heard before. The child translated for the old man.
“My grandfather is honoured to be asked into the house of such a prominent family.”
Flavia smiled and nodded, and the young boy continued.
“Your friend is very sick. His injury is such that he will die unless my grandfather can save him.”
Lucia put her hand to her mouth and her eyes gleamed with tears that she managed not to spill.
“What must be done for him?” F
lavia asked, not to the child but to the doctor, while his grandson translated in a quiet voice.
“My grandfather says his skull is broken and blood is gathering around the wound. It is pressing on his brain and causing him to lose control of his body. He says that if the broken pieces of bone are not removed, the soldier will suffer more pain and eventually die.”
He paused while his grandfather said more and then continued. “My grandfather says that the only way to save the man is to cut his head near the wound and remove the broken pieces. He will then close the cut. The place will always be fragile, the skin will regrow but the bone will not, if he lives at all.”
Flavia gasped at the details of the operation and Lucia was silently allowing tears to roll down her cheeks. Vitus felt a coldness steal into his stomach.
“Can such a thing be done?” He asked.
The child asked his grandfather, who answered slowly.
“He says that he has never done such a thing. He is not sure if it has ever been done outside of his own country. He once saw it done by the doctor in his village. He says the man will almost certainly die if he tries it, but that he will definitely die if he does not. He says you are welcome to ask another doctor for help but that he believes Greek medicine has not developed the skill to perform such a task.”
“When does he need to do this thing?” Flavia asked, straining to remain dignified.
“My grandfather says the sooner this is done, the better the chance of success. He say the wound is already older than he would have liked but that he believes he is the best man in Rome to try.”
Flavia turned and looked at Vitus, who nodded at her.
“Tell your grandfather that we are grateful he will attempt such a thing for our friend. We will have the slaves prepare everything he needs by this evening, if that is to his liking.”
The child first spoke and then listened to the old man.
“He says he will leave full instructions of everything he needs and return later today with his instruments. The man is not to eat anything, he must have the area shaved clean of hair and then washed thoroughly. He wants me to say that he is grateful for your trust in this matter.”
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