‘She sounds dangerous,’ said Carbo.
‘No more than any of these crazy cults that spring up everywhere. Every time I head out to the market, there is a new prophet on the corner, crying that doom is near, that we must all follow whichever god is in vogue, or we face annihilation. It’s one of the few things I admire about Rome, that we tolerate these idiots. The mistress is just another prophet, albeit with a bigger following.’
‘What do you know about her followers?’
‘Well, she certainly knows how to woo the influential. I’ve seen some interesting comings and goings. Wealthy merchants. Rich widows. City officials. Most of her followers come from the underclasses, though. The slaves and freedmen, the poor and disenchanted.’
‘Why don’t you join them then?’
‘For what? Promise of salvation? Throwing off the yoke of the cruel Roman masters? Pah. I have learning, you know. I used to be a teacher. I know Greek. I’ve debated Plato and Socrates with philosophers. Why would I be taken in by a madwoman?’
‘You think the cult is just for the stupid?’
‘Of course. And what happens when a lot of stupid people try to conspire? Not a lot. They couldn’t organize an orgy in a brothel.’
Carbo and Rufa exchanged glances. Carbo wasn’t so sure. Elissa had a formidable personality. Maybe most cults were comprised of the deluded leading the weak, but this one felt different, far, far more dangerous, somehow.
‘I had better get back before the mistress realizes I have been gone too long and has me whipped.’ He looked at Rufa bitterly.
Carbo stood and passed Cossus a denarius. ‘Thank you for your help.’
Rufa looked at Cossus with anguish. ‘Please tell Natta I’m… I’m sorry.’
Cossus looked at her steadily, then turned and walked away. Rufa looked down at the table, tears welling in her eyes. Carbo reached forward and tilted her chin up with one finger so her eyes met his.
‘It’s not your fault. You did what you needed to do. You aren’t responsible for Elissa’s actions.’
Rufa looked at him doubtfully, but the tears stopped flowing.
‘Come on, let’s go and find Vespillo. See what he makes of what Cossus had to tell us.’
Rufa rearranged her cloak to cover her head again and they stood and left. As they entered the street and turned in the direction of home, neither of them noticed the man watching them from a shadowed doorway a short distance away.
* * *
Glaukos narrowed his eyes, staring at the woman. He couldn’t identify her clearly, with her cloak drawn around her, although the large man she was with was striking and memorable. As they walked away from him, he made to follow them. Both of them seemed nervous, the large man glancing around him regularly, and Glaukos had to hang back to avoid being seen. The woman kept her gaze directed downwards, making it hard to see her face, and he cursed in frustration.
The couple walked in the direction of the Subura and the streets became narrower and the crowd thicker. Glaukos started to struggle to keep them in sight and tried to move closer. He had to jostle people out of the way to make progress and became more short-tempered.
A shopkeeper emerged from a doorway, carrying a large jug of garum. Glaukos, his eyes fixed on the couple he was following, bumped into the man, who dropped the jug. The pottery shattered, spreading the stinking fish-guts sauce over the dusty ground. Glaukos tried to push on, but the shopkeeper grabbed him.
‘Get out of my way, you clumsy fool,’ he hissed.
‘Not till you pay me for that. That’s a sextarius of best quality liquamen primum there.’
Glaukos tried to pull his arm away, but the shopkeeper held his sleeve fast. ‘Ten denarii.’
Glaukos wasn’t sure he had that much on him. Anxious to be away, he fumbled in his purse and drew out a handful of the silver coins. He thrust them at the shopkeeper, who took them with one hand, weighing them speculatively. Reluctantly, the man released Glaukos’ sleeve. Glaukos turned back to his quarry, but they had vanished into the crowd. He pushed on down the main street, but there were too many side roads in this region and he couldn’t find them.
He paused and thought for a while. His hunch had nearly paid off. Cossus and Natta were obviously close to Rufa and so it was logical that Rufa might try to contact him. Following Cossus had made sense and only bad luck had intervened to prevent him from being able to bring his mistress valuable information. He was sure the woman in the cloak was Rufa. He couldn’t prove it, but he would soon have Cossus back in the domus. Then Cossus would talk to him. In fact he would beg to tell him everything.
* * *
Carbo and Rufa walked down the street to Carbo’s tavern.
‘Vespillo said he would drop by this afternoon. He’s probably drinking in the tavern now. I wonder what he will make of all this.’
Rufa nodded, eyes still downcast. As they reached the tavern a woman stepped out of the shadows.
‘You are Carbo?’
Carbo looked at her. Her accent was roughest Suburan, but her clothes and jewellery suggested some wealth. She was in her late forties or early fifties and had a firm, handsome face out of which looked flinty eyes. Behind her stood two tough-looking men with ill-concealed cudgels beneath their tunics.
Carbo nodded. ‘And you are?’ he asked suspiciously.
‘Broccha,’ she said. ‘Wife of Manius, mother of Cilo and Balbus.’
Carbo tensed, looking at the thugs behind her, instantly preparing for danger. Broccha held out a placating hand.
‘I’m not here for a fight.’
‘What then?’
Broccha sighed. ‘I love my family, Carbo. They are not perfect. Who is? But they care for each other and they care for their mother.’
‘My mother is dead,’ said Carbo.
Broccha nodded. ‘I heard. I knew Atella. A fine woman.’
Carbo inclined his head in acknowledgement of the praise.
‘Atella spoke of you often, you know. She was very proud of her son in the legions, and she loved you.’
Carbo gave no outward sign of reaction to the words, but his throat tightened.
‘I am proud of my fine sons and my handsome husband. They keep order here.’
‘That isn’t their job,’ said Carbo.
‘Then whose job is it? The urban cohorts? The vigiles? No one cares about this place.’
‘Still, their idea of keeping order is bullying and extortion.’
‘I did say they weren’t perfect. But they are mine. So I am asking you to come to an understanding with them. You are brave and stubborn. So are they. Unless one of you backs down, this will end in death. Most likely yours, and I don’t want to see that happen to Atella’s son.’
‘It could end in the deaths of your husband or sons.’
‘Yes,’ conceded Broccha. ‘And I would like to avoid that possibility too. So, please. I will talk to them, make sure the tax you pay is minimal. Just a token, so that the people around here can see that you respect and honour them. They will leave you alone then.’
Carbo shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, Broccha. I understand why you want this, and I respect your wish to protect your family and keep the peace. But, understand, I was a pilus prior in the legions. I commanded centuries. I fought barbarians for over twenty years. Did you really think I would roll over for a couple of street thugs?’
Broccha looked downcast. ‘No, I didn’t. But I had to try.’
‘Go, Broccha, with my respect. Try to persuade your family to stay away.’
Broccha sighed. ‘I was as successful with them as with you, sadly. I’m sorry for what is to come, Carbo.’
‘So am I,’ said Carbo.
Broccha turned and signalled to her bodyguards, and they walked away.
Carbo entered the tavern and found Vespillo drinking wine at a corner table. Carbo joined him and related what had just happened.
Vespillo shook his head. ‘Manius has been in charge around here for years. If he lets y
ou face him down with no retribution his authority will vanish. He can’t let that happen.’
‘What should I do? I can’t guard the tavern all the time. Next time he may come back when I am not around, and burn the place down, or murder my slaves.’
Vespillo pursed his lips. ‘I will leave a couple of my men here. Dentatus and Bucco. Good lads. A bit dim, but good in a fight, and they certainly won’t mind the idea of guarding a tavern. Just don’t let them get too drunk, will you?’
Carbo laughed. ‘I don’t think that would be in my interests. Don’t worry, Marsia is plenty fierce enough to keep them in line.’
He looked around the tavern. There were a few drinkers there, some playing tali, or board games such as ludus calculorum, some staring down into their cups morosely, a couple looking at Carbo and whispering.
‘Go out the back again, Rufa. It’s not safe for you to be out here.’
Rufa looked as if she would argue momentarily, then bowed her head and retreated to the back room.
‘So, did you find anything out this afternoon?’ asked Vespillo.
‘Some. Enough to know Elissa is mad. And that she is dangerous, or at least wants to be. Whether she is just a fantasist, or she could do some real damage, I don’t know.’
‘Maybe it doesn’t matter. If she thinks that she has a dangerous secret and we let on enough to make her think we know everything, then she may let Rufa go.’
Carbo thought about this. ‘Makes sense. So we go and see her?’
‘Tomorrow, I think. Every day wasted is another day she could be discovered.’ Vespillo stood. ‘I will send over Dentatus and Bucco.’
‘My thanks, Vespillo. You are a good friend.’
Vespillo clapped Carbo on the shoulder. ‘Tomorrow, we will go to Elissa together. Maybe we can get this thing sorted once and for all.’
Chapter XV
Carbo and Rufa lay together on the bed. It was still early evening and, for a change, they were alone together. Marsia was entertaining Fabilla, and Philon was entertaining the tavern guests, one way or another. Philon had already approached Dentatus and Bucco. Only Bucco had been interested and he had insisted that he get Philon’s favours for free, as part of his recompense for guard duties. Philon hadn’t liked this idea and had told him that free drink was the only thing that had been agreed.
Rufa stroked Carbo’s hair, looking into his eyes. ‘Tell me about army life. Was it hard?’
‘You don’t remember?’
‘Some. I was very young when father died. Besides, I only ever knew what it was to be a camp follower, and a rather spoiled one at that. Not what it’s like to be a soldier.’
‘I don’t like to talk about it,’ said Carbo.
Rufa placed a palm against his cheek. ‘You don’t have to tell me the bad bits. But don’t you have any good memories? The taverns. The friends. The women?’
‘There were no women,’ said Carbo. ‘Not after…’ He shook his head. ‘Friends, yes. That is one thing I think I will never stop missing. The men who you lived with day in and out, men who would die for you, and you for them, because that was the only way it could be in battle. Men you drank with, laughed with, gambled with. I miss them, the ones I said goodbye to the day I left the legions, and the ones I said goodbye to the day they died.’
‘Like my father.’
‘Especially your father.’
A silence hung between them for a moment. Then Rufa craned her head forward and kissed Carbo on the lips. He hesitated, but the softness against his mouth was like a draught of wine flowing through his body, relaxing and exciting him at the same time. He slid his arms around her and drew her close, feeling Rufa’s soft body against him. Her fingertips caressed his back and his lips moved to her neck. She tilted her head to let him kiss and nibble at the sensitive skin there.
They undressed and Carbo lay back on the bed. When Rufa reached down to grasp his hardness, he tensed, felt the familiar rise of panic. But she stroked his face and kissed him lightly while her fingertips teased and stimulated him further, and miraculously, he felt the panic recede.
She straddled him and guided him inside her, and with exquisite care and tenderness, she rode him gently. The feelings intensified quickly, and in moments he had lost himself in the sensations. She leaned forward to kiss him again, her breasts grazing his chest. All too soon, he gripped her tightly as he climaxed, and she smiled down on him.
They lay together, Carbo gasping, mixed emotions running through his mind.
‘You didn’t need to do that,’ he said, when he had recovered some composure. ‘You don’t owe me that, for what I’m doing.’
‘I know,’ she said. ‘I wanted to.’
‘But wasn’t it all too… quick for you?’
‘Carbo, I know you haven’t been with a woman for a long time. If it hadn’t been quick, I don’t think I would have been very flattered.’
Carbo laughed and kissed her lightly on the cheek.
She smiled again, then her expression became serious.
‘Carbo, will you tell me what happened to you? And to my father.’
‘I don’t talk about that,’ he said brusquely.
He watched her face fall as she bit her lip and turned away. He cursed himself and sighed.
‘Rufa, I have never spoken to anybody about what happened to me then.’
‘It’s fine,’ said Rufa, her tone forlorn. ‘You don’t need to say anything.’
‘You will be the first person I have told.’
Rufa turned back to face him, searching his gaze.
‘Why me?’
Carbo struggled with the words, an old soldier who had avoided women for much of his adult life. ‘Because I think I… like you.’
The smile on Rufa’s lips, just an upturning at the corners but with a sparkle in her eyes, told him she was pleased with the remark. She hugged him firmly.
‘I like you too, Carbo. Not just for what you are doing for me. For who you are.’
Carbo stroked her hair, then sighed. ‘What do you want to know?’
‘My father and you marched with Varus, didn’t you?’
Carbo nodded.
‘How did he die?’
‘Like a hero,’ said Carbo firmly. Her expectant expression told him he would need to add more detail. He steeled himself and recalled in his mind’s eye the scenes as they left camp that day, to put down a minor revolt by the Angrivarii tribe in Germania. Three legions, resplendent in battledress, headed north-west, with Publius Quinctilius Varus, the governor himself, leading them.
‘You must know the story,’ he said. ‘How Varus led us into the Teutoberger forest at the urging of his German friend Arminius. How Arminius betrayed us all, organizing an ambush.’
‘Of course,’ said Rufa softly. ‘Who doesn’t? But so few survived, so few came home. No one knows what really happened in that forest.’
‘Arminius knows. And I know.’
Carbo collected himself, then continued.
‘Varus suspected nothing, even though he had been warned of a plot. He had complete faith in his friend Arminius. We left in marching order, not battle order. You were lucky that you stayed in the camp. There were many civilians, men, women and children with us that day. Still, three legions marching in line is quite a sight. Varus was in the middle, with the best of the troops to protect him. That was where I and my men were. Behind came the eagles, legionaries marching six abreast behind them. It would have been over twenty-two thousand men if the legions had been at full strength, but of course they never were.
‘As the day wore on, Arminius came to Varus and asked if he could go ahead to make sure the tribes were in support and the way was clear. It seemed like a reasonable request, so Varus agreed. We built camp that night, oblivious to the danger we faced. The next day we set off in high spirits, but the going became more difficult. It was mountainous and forested, and forward detachments had to clear us a path. The weather turned against us, rain and wind that started as a
persistent drizzle and became a full-blown storm. The wagons kept getting stuck in the mud, men slipped over in the treacherous footing, and we felt tired, wet and angry. After nearly a full day of this, the first attack came.
‘They surrounded us on all sides and targeted the horses with spears, which made them bolt and rear. Then they attacked. It was chaos. There were civilians in the way, falling to enemy spears, and Roman gladii if they happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. We were outnumbered and disorganized.
‘But we beat them off, and Varus, though shaken, ordered a camp to be built. Half of us stood guard while the rest worked in the rain and wind to put up the stockade and tents. Although everyone was rattled, we had beaten them off. Defeat was never really considered then. We were three Roman legions. No barbarian army, no matter how numerous, could seriously threaten a force that size now the element of surprise was lost.’
Carbo shook his head at the hubris they had all shown.
‘We agreed to strike out for the river. But first we had to march through a narrow pass. We had been harried all morning before we reached this place and we knew that it looked dangerous, but we had no choice but to march on.
‘Arminius and his men had prepared well. They had lined the pass with turf and sand walls and ramparts, and they came out from behind these and started to cut us down. The space was too confined to form our usual defence behind a wall of shields, so most of the fighting was one-on-one.
‘The slaughter…’ Carbo trailed off and Rufa held his hand, waiting for him to continue in his own time. He took a breath and let it out slowly.
‘We fought well, but we had lost all our traditional advantages. Spears hailed down on us. Your father rallied some men, myself among them, and we charged up the steep slope.
‘The going was deadly. If a legionary’s footing went in the steep, slippery mud, his shield dropped and a spear would find him before he could rise again. Barely half of us made it to the defensive line. Your father was first over the wall, screaming like a demon from the pits of Hades. We followed, hacking and slashing around us, and soon we had cleared the makeshift fortress of its defenders. But there were many more, lining the pass on both sides.
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