‘We may find something else,’ said Vespillo. ‘But we are running out of options.’
Carbo set his jaw and continued walking.
‘How do we get in, anyway? We aren’t the Praetorians or the urban cohorts. The vigiles don’t have any powers to investigate crimes.’
Vespillo smiled. ‘Leave that to me.’
* * *
Vespillo hammered on Elissa’s front door and after a few moments they heard the sound of the bar being removed, and the door swung open. A sombre-looking doorkeeper appraised them.
‘Fetch your mistress, Elissa,’ announced Vespillo.
‘The mistress is not in,’ said the slave.
‘Then fetch the steward, what’s his name, Shafat.’
‘Shafat is not in either, I’m afraid.’
‘Then fetch whoever is most senior in this household at this moment,’ said Vespillo, exasperated.
The doorkeeper nodded and disappeared into the house. Moments later Glaukos appeared, suspicion on his face.
‘Vespillo of the vigiles, and his friend Carbo. As the doorkeeper told you, Mistress Elissa is not in residence at this time.’
‘We aren’t here to see her,’ said Vespillo brusquely.
‘Oh? Then may I enquire as to the nature of your visit?’
‘Fire inspection,’ said Vespillo.
‘What?’ gasped Glaukos. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘The vigiles have a duty to make sure that every household has adequate firefighting equipment. We need to make sure Rome can defend itself from the constant threat of conflagration.’
‘But you have no grounds to suspect…’
Glaukos looked angry, but also shaken, and Carbo wondered at the source of his anxiety.
‘We need no grounds,’ said Vespillo. ‘All households are subject to inspection at the discretion of a tribune of the vigiles. That’s me. Now stand aside.’
‘I will not,’ protested Glaukos. ‘The mistress would not permit this insult!’
Vespillo gestured to the accompanying watchmen. Two of them stepped forward and unceremoniously pushed Glaukos aside. For a moment it looked like he would resist, weighing up the numbers that faced him. Carbo felt momentarily uncertain that if it came to a fight, they would prevail against this huge man. Then he stepped back, and Vespillo and Carbo entered.
‘Right,’ said Vespillo, addressing Carbo and the watchmen. ‘You, I want to see stored water, especially on the upper floor. You, go and check the kitchens, make sure the ovens are safe and well maintained. You two, keep an eye on this big lump here. Carbo and I will look for evidence of other firefighting equipment, fire blankets and suchlike.’
Carbo and Vespillo looked around, then moved through into the peristylium.
‘What now?’ said Carbo.
‘We just start looking,’ said Vespillo. ‘One room at a time. You start that side, I’ll start this.’
Vespillo went to the far side of the peristylium and entered one of the small rooms that lined it. Carbo selected the nearest one to him and went in. It was a small store room, half-full of amphorae, the large earthenware pots standing as tall as his chest. He looked into one, sniffed, dipped a finger in. It contained a thick, dark liquid. He recognized it as naphtha, the oily, flammable substance that bubbled out of the ground in certain parts of the world.
He moved on to the next room. It was a slave chamber, with bedding for five or six. One small boy sat in a shady corner, playing forlornly with a ball. Carbo ignored him, looked around, moved some of the bug-ridden blankets. He found a few simple slave possessions, charms, a few copper coins, but nothing of interest.
The next room was larger, and going from the bright light of the peristylium into the dark room meant that it took him a few moments to realize that there were several people within. As his eyes adjusted, he saw that there were four people, three men and a woman, dressed in simple clothes. They had been keeping quiet as Carbo and the watchmen performed their search, and they sat now, looking at him in silence. Carbo couldn’t understand what he was seeing. This wasn’t living quarters, there was nowhere to sleep, just a few stools, arranged in a circle. There were markings on the walls, symbols in dark red that could have been painted in blood, a circle on top of a trapezium that he had seen before. At one end of the room was a small altar, which had dried blood on its flat surface and in small rivulets down its side.
His gaze moved to the four occupants of the room, and his eyes widened as he recognized one.
‘Philon?’ he gasped. ‘What…’
Philon bowed his head and said nothing.
‘I want an explanation, boy,’ said Carbo firmly.
Philon opened his mouth, but he couldn’t seem to find any words. He trembled and bowed his head. Carbo grabbed him by the arm and yanked him to his feet, then spun him round and up against the wall, one strong hand grasping Philon by the neck.
‘Tell me,’ said Carbo, through gritted teeth, ‘what you are doing here.’
A shout from across the courtyard reached them before Philon had a chance to answer.
‘Carbo! Vigiles! Get your backsides here now!’
Carbo paused for a moment, but Vespillo’s tone sounded urgent. He grabbed Philon by the hair on the back of his head and dragged him out of the room, over to the chamber that Vespillo had called from. The four watchmen also came at a run, and they entered the bedroom together.
Carbo stared, taking in the grisly scene that confronted them. As a veteran of so many years, blood and death were nothing new to him. But the naked female body, lying on her back, spreadeagled, sightless eyes staring at the ceiling, shocked him as much as a club blow to his chest armour. There was so much blood, a vast, drying pool that had spread from the rent in her throat.
Vespillo looked at Carbo grimly.
‘It’s murder,’ he said. ‘We have her now.’ He looked at the young man that Carbo still had hold of and frowned. ‘Isn’t that your slave?’
* * *
Carbo and Vespillo stood before Philon and Glaukos in one of the cells below the fire station. The two captives were manacled to the wall, arms stretched above their heads. Both of the prisoners were naked, and Carbo’s eyes were drawn to the ugly scar through which Philon had lost his stones. A stout, quiet watchman called Hercules held a whip loosely in one hand.
Vespillo looked from one to the other, then addressed Glaukos.
‘You are a free man?’
‘Yes,’ said Glaukos. ‘I am a free citizen of Rome. I demand to be released. I have no knowledge of any wrongdoing in that house.’
‘But you are a resident of the house?’
‘Yes, but what the mistress does in her private chambers is her own business.’
‘Where is Elissa?’
‘I don’t know.’
Vespillo nodded to Hercules, who brought the whip down hard across Glaukos’ chest. Glaukos grunted, but did not cry out. The whip fell away to reveal red stripes across his body.
‘Where is Elissa?’
‘You cannot torture me. I am a free man.’
Vespillo nodded again, the whip fell again, and Glaukos shook his chains in fury.
‘Where is Elissa?’ said Vespillo again patiently.
‘I don’t know,’ said Glaukos, his voice shaking but still defiant. Hercules raised his whip, but Vespillo held up his hand.
‘Who was the dead woman in Elissa’s chamber?’
Glaukos hesitated, but seemed to realize it was implausible that he could not at least know her identity.
‘Her name was Metella, wife of the late Decimus.’
Vespillo looked at Carbo. ‘Jupiter! She was of senatorial rank. This just gets better. I will have to inform the office of the Urban Prefect.’
Carbo shook his head. ‘Not yet. We need to retain control of this. The Urban Prefect will only care about the murder. We know there is much more to this than the death of one woman.’
Vespillo held his gaze for a moment, then nodded. �
�You’re right, there is more at stake here. We just need to find out what.’
He turned back to Glaukos. ‘What is Elissa planning?’
‘I just live there,’ said Glaukos. ‘I know nothing of any of Elissa’s plans, if she even has any.’
‘She is the leader of a cult, isn’t she?’
‘She worships the ancient gods of her ancestors.’
‘So her ancestors were Punic? She worships Ba’al Hammon and Tanit?’
Glaukos nodded. ‘It is not forbidden.’
‘Gods that demand human sacrifice. Is that what Metella was, a sacrifice?’
‘I don’t know anything about the death of Metella.’
Vespillo gestured to Hercules, who laid into Glaukos with the whip, six strong blows that left him gasping for air.
‘How many followers does she have?’
‘I don’t know anything about Elissa’s religious practices.’
The whip again, and Glaukos groaned aloud this time. Carbo looked over to Philon, who was trembling uncontrollably.
Vespillo stepped up to Glaukos, his face inches away from the giant. He spat his words out. ‘What is Elissa planning?’
‘Go suck your own cock,’ spat Glaukos. ‘I know nothing of Elissa’s plans.’
Vespillo stepped back and spoke to Hercules. ‘Continue until I say you can stop. Make sure you pace yourself, I don’t want you getting tired.’
Hercules grunted his agreement and started to whip Glaukos again, the blows falling steadily and at an even pace. Glaukos took the whipping bravely, but the pain was too severe for him not to cry out, his noises mingling with the crack of the whip and the sound of Hercules’ heavy breathing as he exerted himself, administering the torture.
‘Maybe your slave will be more forthcoming,’ said Vespillo to Carbo.
Carbo walked up to Philon. A trickle of urine leaked from the eunuch’s shrivelled cock and ran down his leg.
‘Why, Philon?’ said Carbo gently. ‘Why betray me? Have I not been kind to you?’
‘Yes, Master. I mean, no, Master, I haven’t betrayed you. I don’t know anything,’ babbled Philon. ‘I attended a meeting of a cult, I was curious to know about their gods, that is all. I’m innocent, Master. I would never betray you.’
Carbo was silent for a moment, letting Philon speak.
‘Please believe me, Master. I am a loyal slave. You are a good master, I have no desire to betray you.’
‘It was you, wasn’t it,’ said Carbo quietly.
‘Me, Master? No, it wasn’t me. What do you mean? What was me?’
‘It was you who told Elissa where to find Rufa and Fabilla. So that when we were here, she could summon the cohorts to detain us, while she sent men to capture them.’
‘And because of you, Dentatus and Bucco are dead,’ growled Vespillo.
‘No, Master, I had nothing—’
Carbo slapped him across the face. It wasn’t a hard blow, but it was enough to shock Philon into silence.
‘Philon, have you ever seen a man crucified? I have. Before that, I had always wondered how a man could die just from being hung from a cross. Very slowly, is the answer. You are scourged, then nailed to the wood. Your full body weight is taken on the nails that stick through your wrists and your feet. If you try to shift your weight, you transfer the agony from one part to another. You are left out in the heat, with no drink. Your ability to breathe slowly decreases. You lose blood. Your wounds become infected. The pain becomes worse and worse. If you are lucky, they break your legs so you die more quickly. If you are unlucky, it can take days, and the crows may be pecking at your eyes while you still live.’
Philon looked like he was about to pass out.
‘You are a slave, Philon. You were in the house where a high-born woman was murdered. You have betrayed your master. You are going to be tortured, and you are going to die horribly. Tell me everything you know.’
Philon licked his lips, and glanced over at Glaukos. Glaukos looked at him and gasped out, ‘Say nothing, slave, or the Lord and Lady will torture you for all eternity.’
Vespillo gestured Hercules over to Philon. He grinned and walked towards the terrified slave, patting the whip into the palm of his hand.
‘No, Master, please. I will tell you everything I know.’
‘You worthless shit,’ shouted Glaukos. ‘I will make you suffer for this.’
‘Take him to another cell,’ said Vespillo. Hercules unhooked the manacles from the wall and took Glaukos away. Vespillo unlocked Philon’s bindings and gestured him to a stool. Carbo and Vespillo remained standing.
‘Tell us what you know about Elissa and her plans,’ said Carbo.
Philon looked an epitome of misery.
‘She offered freedom. She offered a purpose in life. You free Romans, you can never know what it is like to exist only to serve. To have a life that is only cleaning, cooking, sucking cocks.’
‘You get your food and your shelter,’ said Carbo. ‘That’s more than many in Rome get.’
‘But I don’t get the chance to walk away. To earn my own place in the world.’
‘You’re a slave,’ said Vespillo. ‘That is your place. Why would you question it?’
Carbo thought about Rufa and Fabilla, how he felt about the thought of them as slaves, and shook his head.
‘This is irrelevant to us now. We want to know where Elissa is, and what she is planning to do.’
Philon looked up, no defiance in his expression. ‘She intends to destroy Rome.’
Chapter XXII
Night had fallen by the time Carbo and Vespillo stood quietly outside the fullery. This was the place that Philon had informed them was Elissa’s main temple. It was hardly a military operation, a dozen thuggish-looking men in scruffy uniforms, carrying clubs and coshes. Only Carbo and Vespillo carried edged weapons, both having gladii in their hands, the short stabbing swords they were used to from their time in the legions. Carbo winced as one of the watchmen bumped into another, causing him to drop his club with a loud thump. They argued in a loud whisper until Vespillo shushed them. Fortunately, the sounds of chanting from within covered the noise.
Carbo wondered if they shouldn’t have called the urban cohorts. This sort of action, against a group of people threatening to disturb the peace of the city, was really their job to deal with. He didn’t trust them, though, not after the way they had done Elissa’s bidding by storming his tavern, trying to catch Rufa and Fabilla, killing the vigiles protecting them. He knew that the vigiles were furious as well. There had been some name-calling, even some scuffles between the two groups, and one member of the urban cohorts had been badly beaten, which the vigiles innocently claimed to know nothing about.
Philon’s story still seemed unbelievable. Elissa’s plan seemed insane, but then the woman was clearly not rational, with her belief in ancient Carthaginian gods, the omens that had marked Fabilla out for sacrifice, and her hatred of Rome based on a war fought over two centuries before. Even so, Carbo had not believed her plan could possibly work, until he had seen the look on Vespillo’s face as Philon spoke.
Vespillo had seen enough fire in Rome to know how devastating it could be. The city had grown, even since Carbo was a boy, and its winding congested streets were lined with shoddily erected structures made of flammable materials. The vigiles had been formed by Augustus to combat the frequent fires, and for the most part they did a good job at quenching the outbreaks caused by accident and negligence.
Deliberate arson was another matter, though. Starting a conflagration would be easy, with the right planning. Select a house in the middle of a packed area, fill it with incendiary materials such as kindling, tinder, straw and oil, and one torch could start a fire that would devastate a region, or even the whole of Rome.
Vespillo’s face had whitened as Philon had spoken, revealing everything he knew in his terror of torture. They knew the date now, the climax of the Ludi Romani on the thirteenth day before the Kalends of October. The popul
ation of the city would be out of their homes, thronging the Circus Maximus and the hundreds of satellite events that would be happening at the same time. The urban cohorts would be out in force, keeping the crowds under control. People’s homes would be empty, few around to extinguish a fire before it had taken hold. Elissa’s plan, insane as it was in purpose, was sound in planning. It would work.
Or, it would have worked if they hadn’t found Philon, reflected Carbo. If he hadn’t told them everything. Even if Elissa hadn’t been so obsessive about having Fabilla as a sacrifice. If she had let the slaves go, Carbo and Vespillo would never have got involved, and Rome would never have known about the act of destruction she was planning.
Now, though, they could stop the plot dead. Carbo looked around him. The vigiles appeared to have finally got themselves in some sort of order. Vespillo looked to Carbo, who nodded, and then he gestured to two watchmen. The two men brought up an improvised ram, a delicately carved wooden beam, charred by fire, which had been a souvenir from some previous house fire, kept at the station. They would not be waiting to be invited in this time.
Vespillo pointed at the door and the two men drove the ram into it with force, knocking it off its hinges at the first blow. Carbo drew his sword and was through first, Vespillo and the vigiles close behind.
The entrance first led into a short corridor. One of Elissa’s followers stood there, mouth agape at the sight of the charging men. Carbo clubbed him in the side of his head with the hilt of his sword, not pausing to watch the unconscious man slide to the floor. He burst into an open area, crowded with vats of stinking urine in which togas and tunics were dunked for the fulling process. Two of the cultists stood at the top of stairs leading down. Carbo and Vespillo were on them before they could react, hurling them aside for the following vigiles to deal with. They hurtled down the stairs, taking them three at a time, and emerged into a cavernous cellar, lit by smoking torches.
Carbo took in the scene. Around twenty cultists were here, men and women, and they jumped to their feet from their prayer stances as the vigiles entered. The cellar had many side rooms and Carbo caught glimpses of piles of wood and amphorae, similar in design to the ones he had seen in Elissa’s house.
Watchmen of Rome Page 26