“What’s up with the old man, is he always like this?” Titus said
catching the arm of a passing fireman.
The fire-fighter glanced at Numerius down the hall.
“Don’t you know? They say the assassin we are looking for
killed his son.
That’s why he wants to catch him so bad.”
The man disappeared and Titus glanced again at Numerius.
His new patron was not mad. He understood now why they
were doing what they were doing.
His patron too, in his own way, was looking for a way out.
“Sir,” the soldier’s commander came up to Numerius looking
worried. “I think we’re going to have a hard time getting out of
here. There is a mob gathering in the alleys. They are getting
bolder and stronger by the minute. They don’t give a damn
about Milo Sir but they hate it when outsiders come into
their neighbourhood like this. We’ll have a riot on our hands
soon enough and many of my lads are just half trained boys.”
“If we have to fight our way out then that is what we will do,” Numerius said, “but I am not leaving before I have what I came for.”
“Sir, we should leave now,” the commander insisted.
Numerius shook his head, “I will take full responsibility for what happens here. Go back to your post and wait for my orders.”
There was an authority in Numerius’ voice that the commander did not argue with. Instead he saluted, turned sharply on his heels and left.
A few minutes later the first roof tile smashed against the wall of the house close to the doorway. A moment later another tile clattered against the broken door. The two soldiers guarding the entrance ducked as a third projectile flew over their heads. Titus peered down the alley and saw it was thronging with armed men. Someone shouted in their direction.
“Riot Sir,” the commander announced as he rushed past.
Numerius said nothing.
The tumult in the alleys outside had grown louder by the time
one of the Fire crew came rushing down the stairs carrying a
leather bound scroll. The man glanced anxiously into the alley
as he handed the document to Numerius.
Numerius undid the leather seal and unrolled the parchment
holding it up carefully between his two hands. For a moment all
men’s eyes turned to look at him as Numerius took his time to
study the scroll.
“Well well, come and have a look at this Titus,” Numerius said, “I
was right.
Milo has kept records, wonderfully detailed records.”
As he continued to study the document another fireman came
down the stairs carrying two more similar looking scrolls.
“That’s all we could find Sir,” the man stammered.
***
Numerius lost two men in the fight to get out of the Subura. Holding the precious records himself he led his men into the narrow alleys. They were met with a hail of missiles and a torrent of abuse but the large Legionary shields were an effective way of pushing the mob before them. When the troop finally emerged into the wider streets around the forum the news of the riot had already spread throughout the city. Soldiers were rushing to cover and bar all the exits into the neighbourhood. Citizens milled around in confusion and a few faint hearted souls were crying that the Carthaginians were already in the city. As he led his men into the Sacred Way, Numerius was confronted by an angry looking Praetor.
“Are you responsible for this mess?” the government official growled.
“I am, but I have no time to discuss it with you,” Numerius replied.
“You arrogant ass,” the official hissed, “This disturbance is the last thing we need in the city right now.”
“So sue me,” Numerius retorted pushing his way past the man.
“There is a rumour that you had Milo arrested and tortured?” the official cried with incredibility in his voice as Numerius and his troop filed passed down the street, but Numerius did not reply.
At his HQ near the Capena gate the troop was met by Nicomedes. The doctor looked anxious as he half ran, half walked to Numerius’ side.
“I had to release him,” Nicomedes gasped, “The lawyer took him away. They are spreading the news of what you did around the city. Milo has threatened you with dire consequences Numerius. He has powerful friends. There is no doubt about it. The Senate won’t like what you have done. I am sorry, but there it is.”
Numerius placed a hand on the doctor’s shoulder. “Thank you," he said, “You are a brave man and I will make sure that Fabius knows what you have done for me.”
The doctor nodded apprehensively. “Did you get what you were looking for?” he asked.
“I did,” Numerius replied with a triumphant smile.
The scrolls from Milo’s house were a treasure trove of information. As Numerius and Nicomedes poured over them they marvelled at the magnificent detail of the records Milo had kept. The accounts went back for years and recorded names, places, payment and the particulars of the men and women involved. There were also payments to individuals with a coding system that they didn’t understand.
“Bribes,” Nicomedes whispered, his eyes widening.
Numerius nodded. It was clear that Milo ran a far more extensive racket than he had ever imagined. Some of the names in the accounts belonged to very senior members of the great Patrician families. Numerius was glad to see that Fabius’ name however was not amongst them.
“This will make very useful evidence in court,” he muttered.
Nicomedes glanced up at him with a look of astonishment.
“My friend,” he gasped, “don’t you realise that they will kill you to prevent this information from coming out. You have dirt on nearly every noble family in Rome not to mention their wives affairs. This will cause the greatest scandal in the history of Rome.”
“I didn’t know the system was so rotten,” Numerius sighed. “So this is what we have become, a nation where nobles take bribes from criminals and their wives fornicate with slaves. We are mocking our ancestors. It is no good Nicomedes. This is shameful, utterly shameful.”
“What are you going to do with this?” the doctor said gesturing to the books.
Numerius looked down at the scrolls.
“I will give them to Fabius. He will have to handle their contents. But we are getting distracted my good doctor. Come let’s have a look at the entries from yesterday. That woman’s name will be amongst them.”
“A man could become rich with this kind of information,” Nicomedes said stroking his chin.
Numerius did not seem to have heard him as he studied the accounts and he did not see the little gentle smile the doctor allowed himself.
There were nineteen women on the list and they all lived in the wealthier neighbourhoods of the city. Nicomedes bent down over the scroll and in turn studied the names.
“How are we going to know which one he took with him?” he asked.
“That’s easy,” Numerius replied, “I will have Titus and my fire crew go to each house and speak to each lady in turn.”
“And they are just going to confess to being at this ritual, this orgy?”
Numerius shrugged, “They may be reluctant but if they are we will tell them that we have proof that they were there and that they had better cooperate, if they don’t want their names and reputations to be smeared in public.”
“That’s blackmail.”
“Yes, it is blackmail,” Numerius replied looking up at his doctor, “So what. The Punic spy is a direct threat to survival of the state. Nothing is more important than capturing him. We need that information and we need it quickly.”
“You are going to upset a lot of powerful people. Is that wise?”
“Haven’t I already done that, a few more won’t matter,” Numeriu
s smiled. He straightened up as Titus entered the room. The young man halted before the desk and saluted smartly as if he was still with the army.
“I have got a job for you Titus. It will involve pissing off a lot of high borne women and their families. Can you handle that?”
“Sir,” Titus replied and Numerius smiled. The boy was either a fool or just very brave. He didn’t have a clue what he was letting himself in for and maybe that was just as well. He began to explain what he wanted done, indicating to the accounts, when suddenly he began to sweat. His body felt as if it was on fire. He staggered and grasped at the table to try and steady himself but there was no strength in his arms or legs. Then he was falling to the ground.
***
It was early in the evening when Numerius was strong enough to sit up on the couch.
“Did Titus carry out my orders?” was the first thing he said.
“He did a good job,” Nicomedes replied mixing a potion in a cup before handing it to Numerius. “Twelve women confessed to returning home in the company of their own slaves. Four remained all night at Milo’s. Two refused to acknowledge they had been out and one did not answer the door when our men came round.”
“The two whom refused to confirm they’d been out. Do they have no reputation worth defending or do they think we are stupid,” Numerius growled angrily.
“Titus told them they were lying,” Nicomedes said with a tight smile. “That was after they threatened us.”
Numerius could not help but smile as he pictured the young Samnite boy telling a rich Patrician woman that she was a liar in her own home. It would have gotten Titus into serious trouble if the circumstances had been any different. Well those bitches deserved it he thought. Their moral behaviour was outrageous.
He looked up as Nicomedes cleared his throat.
“One of the Praetors’ has ordered that you be arrested Sir,” the doctor said, “but they can’t seem to find anyone willing to carry out the task.”
“Bunch of cowards,” Numerius grunted.
“You cannot rely on Fabius all the time Sir, eventually they will send someone to bring you in. It’s just a matter of time.”
“Good,” Numerius said rising slowly to his feet, “No time to waste then. Let’s start by going to pay the one who didn’t answer a visit. What’s her name?”
“Sir, you should rest,” Nicomedes replied anxiously, “you are not fit to go anywhere. It’s already nearly dark.”
“Oh stop moaning like an old woman doc,” Numerius grumbled slipping into in his sandals, “I can manage. Now what’s her name?”
Nicomedes sighed with obvious disapproval.
“There really isn’t much point in me being here if you won’t follow my advice,” he grumbled, “The woman is called Marcella something, married to a tax collector. Titus has the details.”
“Of course you are needed,” Numerius said laying a hand on the doctor’s shoulder.
***
The small procession carrying burning torches made its way up the Caelian hill. The noise from the riot in the Subura had subsided but it was still all the talk amongst the people on the street. It was twilight and Titus striding along in the rear was beginning to feel tired. He’d been on his feet for most of the previous night. It had been an eventful day he thought. It seemed ages since he had joined the hunt for the Punic spy. He could never go back to the Subura now, not after what he had done. It saddened him for the neighbourhood had been his home but his family came first and he would build them a new home, a better home.
His fate and that of his family he realised, were now largely in the hands of the man who led the procession. His patron looked pale and fragile and Titus had gone from being a little afraid of the man to being worried about his health for if Numerius died he too would be finished. Milo, he knew would hunt him down even if he left Rome and ran all the way to the Alps.
The procession with their flaming torches came to a halt outside a modest town house in a smart street and Numerius stepped forwards and rapped loudly on the wooden door.
“Open up in there, we have official business,” he shouted.
There was no reply from the house. Numerius nodded to the two firemen who had brought their axes. The men went to work on the door and for a minute Titus waited as splinters and pieces of wood flew into the street. Then with a final derisory kick one of the firemen broke down the remains of the door and they were in. Titus followed closely behind as the firemen carrying their torches clustered together in the atrium. The house was silent and shrouded in darkness. There were no signs of life. The flickering light from the torches created eerie shadows on the walls.
“Sir,” a voice suddenly cried in alarm. “Here, Sir”.
Numerius crossed the atrium and entered one of the rooms. A fireman was standing in the middle of the room holding a torch.
“Gods,” Numerius muttered.
Lying on the bed was the naked body of a woman. The blanket around her was soaked in blood and her open eyes stared lifelessly at the ceiling. “I think we know why she didn’t answer our calls Sir,” one of the firemen blurted out.
“Gods, he killed her,” Numerius muttered and Titus could see the sudden disappointment on his face.
“Should we search the house Sir?” Titus said.
“Yes, yes,” Numerius nodded looking distracted. He turned and sat down on the edge of the bed moving the woman’s legs to make space.
“If I examine her I can probably establish how she died,” Nicomedes said trying to sound helpful.
“No, there is no point,” Numerius replied. “Why did he kill her, he had a good place to hide here, why throw that all away?” Numerius said to himself running a hand through his hair.
“Maybe she discovered who he really was?” Titus offered.
“Yes maybe,” Numerius nodded. He glanced at the woman’s face and touched her cheeks gently with his finger.
“Show me the accounts again we took from Milo’s house,” he said suddenly turning to the doctor, “What is so special about her? Why did you choose her Caeso,” he muttered to himself, “why her?”
Nicomedes undid the scrolls and in the flickering torchlight the two men bent over the accounts. Numerius ran his finger down the lists of names.
“What’s so important about her?” he growled irritably. “Go back doc and see if her name crops up in any other parties or payments or the like. Go back years if you have to. Maybe she has a history, there has to be some connection somewhere.”
“The house is empty, nothing has been touched,” one of the firemen reported standing in the doorway.
“Alright,” Numerius said. He turned and looked at the dead woman again and Titus could see that his thoughts were far away.
The minutes past in silence until suddenly Nicomedes yelped in triumph.
“Got it, she attended a party a few years ago, also hosted by Milo but at a different address,” the doctor looked up and there was an odd excitement in his eyes. “You will never guess where?” he added.
“Where?” Numerius exclaimed turning to look at the doctor.
“Fabius’ house,” Nicomedes said, “it had a different owner then, a man called Pollio and the notes say that the guests used the secret entrance. What does that mean?”
Numerius was on his feet. “What Fabius’ house on the Palatine?”
Nicomedes nodded. “That’s what it says Sir. As Fabius’ doctor I know the address well,” and as he said the words the doctor’s mouth opened in dismay. Numerius’ eyes widened as he struggled to grasp the full extent of the picture that was now so tantalisingly close.
“Hurry, to Fabius’ house on the Palatine,” he cried suddenly lunging for the doorway, “the assassin has found a way into the house. He’s going to try and kill Fabius in his own home.”
“I know that secret entrance,” the doctor gasped.
“So do I,” Numerius cried.
Chapter Twentythree - Cloaca Maxima
Adonibaal had
never been down into the sewers before. He’d heard about the Cloaca Maxima of course, the big drain, built by the kings hundreds of years before to drain the low lying marsh land between the hills of Rome, but he had never imagined he would go down into it. Some people had said that the Cloaca was the entry point into the underworld. Others spoke of gangs of monsters and criminals who lived in its tunnels and who killed anyone who entered their world. Old wives tales Adonibaal thought dismissively; created to scare little children. Nevertheless he’d said a prayer to Cloacina, the goddess of the sewers and had left her a silver coin. Tonight he would need the gods to favour him.
Marcella had told him about the inspection doorway that led down into the sewers. He’d found it close to the Senate house and the forum, a small non- descript bolted doorway in a wall. He’d returned to wait at her house until it was dark. Then when he judged the evening and the twilight to be far enough advanced to give him some cover he’d started out. They would be looking for him now he knew but even if Milo did eventually find her corpse it would be too late. He just hoped Fabius was at home as usual. As he’d sped towards the Palatine he’d heard from passers by that there had been a riot in the Subura. It was a good omen. Milo was angry. Hopefully with a riot on their hands the authorities would be too busy too look for him. His spirits had soared higher when he had walked past Fabius’ house and seen a group of heavily armed soldiers standing guard outside the front door. The old man was at home.
Throughout that afternoon, as he’d hidden in her house he’d sat in a chair staring at Marcella’ corpse lying on the bed. He’d had to kill her he knew, she had discovered who he was and he couldn’t afford loose ends but killing a woman had been a distasteful act. She should have kept her mouth shut. He was a professional and he had a job to do. She had brought it on herself but her desperate pleading had still managed to unsettle him.
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