by Jack Whyte
I looked around at all of them. “Aye,” I answered him. “It’s very important. You people are known in that town, but I’m not. That’s the second time I’ve ever been there, and the first time I was just passing through. Nobody knows me there, and the only person who saw me with any of you this time was the roper. That means they won’t find out my name, and they won’t tie me to any of you. It also means I won’t be going back there for a while.” There was a small ripple of laughter at that as I went on. “I don’t know who killed Quinctilius Nesca, but a man like that is never short of enemies. I do know, however, and you know, too, that it wasn’t Publius Varrus. Now we’d better get back to the Colony as quickly as we can. The sooner we’re away from here, the happier I’ll be.”
I stopped as a curious thought occurred to me, and I turned again to the men who had brought the news.
“You say Nesca was attacked and murdered in the night. Who found the body, and where?”
Tarpo Sulla scowled in thought. “I don’t know. He was on his way to the privy, that’s all I know. And whoever did it almost took his head right off. Willy heard somebody mention something about his cousin being the one that found the body, isn’t that right, Willy?”
His cousin! Seneca? I immediately began to wonder if I might have located the missing Procurator, and the thought did not seem far-fetched. Nesca might well have provided his wealthy cousin with a hiding place, a safe retreat to wait out the fortunes of Magnus in his bid for the Empire. And then I made an intuitive leap. If there had been ill-feeling between them, if bad blood had developed, Seneca might have perceived a way to get rid of his fat cousin and foist the blame onto the same crippled assassin who had tried to kill him once before. It was pure supposition on my part, but it made grim sense.
We had no difficulties on the road, and we were back in the Colony two days later. Caius listened carefully to the tale I had to tell him, shook his head regretfully over the idiocy and pettiness of men and then dismissed the topic and told me about the strange embassy he had received from Ullic, the High Chief of the local Pendragon Celts. He seemed to put no credence at all in my theory concerning the killing of Nesca and the whereabouts of Claudius Seneca, discounting it as pure conjecture, irrelevant and unimportant beside his own news. I can recall being hurt and angered by his indifference to my report and my suspicions. At the same time, however, I was able to recognize the importance of the embassage from Ullic and to acknowledge that there might be good reason for the evident excitement it had caused during my absence.
Just after I had left for Aquae Sulis, Cymric and his brother, my arrow-flighting friend, had approached Caius formally on behalf of their Chief, Ullic Pendragon. Ullic, they said, wanted to meet with Caius to discuss matters of mutual interest. This was a great honour, Cymric had added, since never before had a Pendragon Chief had truck with any Roman.
Intrigued, Caius had naturally invited the Chief to be his guest in the Colony, but this was not acceptable at all. The meeting, he was told, must be a formal one held in a holy place. Caius had asked where that might be, and was told Stonehenge.
Of course, I knew where Stonehenge was. It is an open temple, sacred to the Druids, ancient as time itself, and it stands, or rather its ruins stand, on the highest ground of the great plain south of us, more than a day’s march from the villa. Caius had demurred at first at having to go so far, but Luceiia, who was with him at the time, was wise enough to convince him to agree to the meeting. He had asked what kind of escort he was permitted to bring to such a formal meeting, and had been told that Ullic would be accompanied by his Druids and by a warrior escort, so it would be in order for Caius to bring an escort of his own.
Caius had been insistent on postponing the meeting until I could accompany him, and had set it two weeks away; that meant six days from the day I should have returned from Aquae Sulis. The prospect of meeting the Celtic chieftain interested me, but I was still preoccupied with the reappearance of the Seneca clan in my life. I tried again to interest Caius in my theory on Seneca and his whereabouts, but I could see it was a waste of time. He was completely engrossed in planning for the upcoming meeting, and he had so many things on his mind that he could not allow himself to be distracted by a Seneca who was not an immediate source of danger.
For me, however, the reverse was true. I could have no interest in meeting a Celtic savage when my arch-enemy might be within reach of my vengeance. Disappointed and slightly angered by Caius’ lack of interest, I decided to take steps of my own to deal with the possibility that Seneca might be in Aquae Sulis. I made my arrangements and mentioned none of them to either Caius or my wife, both of whom, I knew, would have disagreed wholeheartedly with what I proposed to do. In my arrogance and anger I fear I lost sight, as I often did, of the possibility of repercussions from my own rash actions. Secure in my righteousness, I breathed new life into an old hatred and started a chain of events that would haunt me and mine years later.
XXXI
Five days later, Equus brought Tertius Pella to see me. I was at work at the place behind the villa where we had built the furnace to smelt the metal from the skystone. When they arrived, I was working with the special clay we intended to use as a liner for the fire-box, and while I washed the stuff from my hands and dried them on a rag, Equus entertained Tertius with a description of what we were hoping to achieve with the new kiln. At length, my hands clean and dry, I took off my leather apron and welcomed Tertius. It was a hot, dusty, sunny day, and Equus poured each of us a mug of cool beer from the supply he always seemed to have at hand, stored out of the way of the sun’s heat. As we drank the first, deep draught, I examined Tertius Pella again, confirming my original opinion of him.
He was a tall man, well set-up, as the local Celts say, in his late thirties, with broad shoulders and a waist that was just beginning to thicken, where most men of his age were already pot-bellied with overeating. His dark, saturnine face, with its eyes surrounded by deep creases, showed his years of squinting against the sun’s glare off the ocean, for Tertius Pella was a true navy man, a soldier who had lived on water for most of his years with the Eagles. I had already learned that he was strong and shrewd and solid, dependable as one of his beloved quadriremes, and the jut of his chin was reminiscent of the ramming beaks of those same vessels.
“Well,” I asked him, “what did you find?”
He grinned, a vulpine grin with no humour in it. “What I went to find. He’s there all right, in a townhouse rented for the year by the unlamented lard-sack, Nesca.”
“You saw him?” I needed to be sure.
“Aye, once. Only for a few moments, but it was enough and more. He came to an open portal, less than fifteen paces from where I stood. No possibility of error— it was him. Caesarius Claudius Seneca, Senator of Rome and Procurator of South Britain, hiding from the sunlight in a darkened house. That’s appropriate enough, come to think of it. God, I wish I’d had a bow in my hand! I could have slipped an arrow into either of his eyes so fast —”
“Did anyone see you? Anyone recognize you?”
“No, of course not. You told me to make sure I wasn’t seen.”
“Good, good. So!” I cut him off, excited by his confirmation of what had until that moment been nothing more than a suspicion and a hope. “He is there, obviously in hiding, as you say.” I was talking half to him and half to myself, voicing my milling thoughts. “But why is he hiding? Who is he hiding from? From the whole world, and particularly from Theodosius and his spies and informers, because the rumours must be true. He did finance Magnus! He used imperial revenues to arm and equip the armies of a usurper, and now he is hiding, waiting for the outcome of his gamble!”
“Wait, I don’t understand.” This was Equus. “Why does he need to hide? Britain belongs to Magnus. If Seneca is a Magnus supporter, he has nothing to be afraid of.”
“Two reasons, Equus,” I answered him. “The first is that Magnus is only Emperor in Britain. He might fail in his attempt for t
he whole Empire. If he does, then all who aided him will stand proscribed under sentence of death. And that leads to the second reason: Seneca is not stupid. Rest assured, he has a back-up plan ready should Magnus fail. He’ll have done something to safeguard himself if disaster overtakes him. As Imperial Procurator of South Britain, he must be seen to be loyal to Theodosius — for his own safety he cannot appear to be otherwise. So he has ‘disappeared’, presumably to conduct the Emperor’s affairs from a safe place. He is unable, of course, to communicate with Rome because Britain is in rebel hands. If Magnus is successful, Seneca will be triumphant — the Maker of the Emperor. And if Magnus is defeated, Seneca will come out of hiding with his reputation unblemished. He’ll make up any shortfall in funds out of his own coffers. God knows they’re deep enough! That’s really the only gamble he is taking. But he has to stay hidden.”
Equus was still unconvinced. “How can he stay hidden in a city? Somebody is bound to recognize him. There are still people around who are loyal to Theodosius and the Empire.”
“Of course there are, Equus, you’re right.” I turned to Pella. “What was he wearing when you saw him?”
Pella looked surprised. “Nothing special, a tunic.”
“An elaborate tunic? Brightly coloured?”
“No, not elaborate. It was plain — plain white.”
“Aha! Was it bright, stark white?”
“No!” He was beginning to look annoyed. “It was plain white, same as the one I’m wearing. Just an ordinary, everyday tunic.”
“Good man, Tertius. You have an eye for detail. How many guards on duty at the gates?”
He looked from Equus to me and jerked his head in a negative. “None, and that surprised me at first.”
“At first?”
“Aye, until I began to see what was going on.”
“And what was that?” I glanced at Equus, whose brow was creased in concentration as he tried to miss nothing of this. “What was going on?”
Pella looked narrowly at me and then shrugged his shoulders. “Nothing, really. Nothing noticeable. Nothing that any of the neighbours could see, unless they were really looking. But there’s at least eight men in that house with Seneca, and they all look like professional gladiators. I counted eight for sure, and there may have been a ninth. It took me two days to make the tally.”
“Are you saying they are all in hiding?”
“Aye,” he said, “at least, most of them stay out of sight. There’s three fellows who come and go all the time, but the others keep their heads down. Except late at night. I saw four of them slip out on the second night. They were back well before dawn.”
“Equus,” I asked, “do you see what Tertius is telling us?” He shook his head, frowning. “Think about Seneca. He is the Imperial Procurator of South Britain, one of the most influential and most highly trusted administrators in the entire province. He is also one of the wealthiest men in the Empire. And above all, he is Caesarius Claudius Seneca, Senator of Rome, renowned for his profligacy and for his debauchery. People expect many things from Seneca, Equus. They expect outrageous, fashionable clothes and all the trappings of power and wealth — rich wagons, magnificent horses, uniformed personal retainers, absolute physical security. They do not expect silence, seclusion and the appearance of poverty. Now do you see?”
“Guards and soldiers!” I saw comprehension flare in Equus’ eyes. “No guards! So he is in hiding, disguised as an ordinary man!”
“Exactly! Completely unremarkable, completely untraceable. Nobody will recognize him in Aquae Sulis, Equus, nobody! Because no one will think to see him! The man is such a swine that he can escape detection completely simply by ceasing to be himself.” I returned my attention to Tertius, who was helping himself to more beer. “Can you take the place?”
“Aye.” He nodded. “I think so.”
“How many men will you need?”
“Twelve.” He had thought it through already, but the number surprised me.
“That many?”
“Aye, to do it right. Four to lay hands on the whoreson to make sure he comes to no accidental harm, and eight to look after his bullies.”
“And you? Where will you be?”
“I’ll be in reserve,” he answered, grinning that grin again. “I warn you, though, I think your plan is a waste, and dangerous. If we are going in there anyway, it would be easier to put him away there and then. Kill the whoreson and have done. Then we wouldn’t have to worry about getting him out, or hiding him, or any of that nonsense. Getting him out and away is going to be the most hazardous part of the whole thing!”
I was already aware of Pella’s feelings on this. He wanted Seneca dead as quickly as possible, in payment for the death of his own son. But he considered the right to kill Seneca to be his alone. I contradicted him before he could develop his theme.
“Forget that, Tertius.” I said. “We’ve talked about it before. A quick, clean death’s too good for this man. We want him to suffer. We want him to wonder why and who has done this to him. We want him to squirm, to squeal for mercy. And we want him to know, beyond any doubt, that he can’t buy his life from us. He will know, before we are finished with him, that Justice has caught up with him.”
“Ach!” The expletive had a disgusted note to it. Pella was not impressed. “Justice be damned! Kill him and get it done, I say, just so long as he sees my face before the blade slips in! That whoreson wouldn’t recognize Justice if he watched her take off her blindfold and use it to polish her scales.” He stopped and smiled. “But you may be right again, Publius. You have not been wrong on anything, so far. We’ll do it your way, in the hope of a few laughs.”
“Good,” I said, not knowing how else to respond. “Now, I’ll be leaving for the south with Caius in two days. We expect to be gone for six days, and then I will spend another two days at home with my wife before coming to find you. You are absolutely sure of the location we are using?”
“Absolutely. Went by there on the way back, this morning. It will do fine.”
“Excellent. As soon as I get back from Stonehenge, Equus will deliver that message to you and you will wait for me where the path enters the forest at mid-morning of the second day after my return. Equus, do you know where to go to find Tertius?” Equus grunted an affirmative and I spoke again to Pella. “Have you picked your men?” He nodded. “They are all trustworthy and sworn to secrecy?” Another nod. “Good. When can you leave?”
“Tonight. Everything’s set up.”
I reviewed the entire plan in my mind, and to this day I can recall exactly how I felt and what I thought as I stood there. I was in the grip of a powerful lust, governed completely by an irresistible thirst for vengeance, and my heart was hammering heavily in my breast with the knowledge that I was close to achieving it. I had been bothered by dreams of Phoebe for several nights, and I fancied that her spirit cried out to me for justice. I had not the slightest qualm over what I intended to do. There was no pity in my breast. Seneca would die by my hand, and I would kill him as I would a snake, a scorpion, or any other hostile, dangerous creature.
I have never known a compulsion, a bloodthirsty imperative, as strong as the one I was under then. That may have been the peak of my entire life in terms of cold, implacable, condemnatory judgment. My raging anger was as spontaneous as rain. It is extremely doubtful that I could summon up such rage today, no matter what the provocation. I finished visualizing the details of my plan.
“Perfect,” I said, nodding at Pella. “As far as I can see, everything is in place. Once you have him, keep him disoriented. Shackle him and keep his eyes covered at all times. Check his blindfold often, at least every hour, and make sure he can’t reach it with his hands. Don’t be gentle with him, but don’t hurt him unnecessarily, either. Above all, don’t talk to him. Not a word. Remain with him yourself and keep two more men with you. Send the others home as soon as you have him safely in your custody. Feed him regularly, but not well. He has to know, through
all of his senses, that he is a prisoner in extremely hostile hands.” I paused, thinking over what I had said before continuing. “Don’t even let him hear you talking among yourselves. Can you manage that?”
“Of course! Simple discipline.”
“Good. The more off balance we can keep him, the better it will suit our purposes. By the time I get to him I want him thoroughly cowed, confused and afraid. That reminds me, keep him naked, too. But don’t let him freeze to death. You may have to throw him a blanket if the weather turns bad. If you do, make sure that it is old, coarse, scratchy and evil-smelling.” My mind was racing. “Another thing. After you have him and you’re safe from pursuit, if you ever are, tie his wrists and make him run behind your horse, blindfolded. He should find that an interesting introduction to his new life. But watch him carefully, Tertius. If he falls, don’t drag him. Get him back up on his feet. And again, above all, don’t talk to him!
“When you get to the spot we’ve chosen, make camp and wait for me. Shackle him to a stake beneath the big oak branch, and make sure he spends hours, at a stretch with his arms drawn up above his head, fastened by the wrists. I’d like him to have about a week of that before I get there. Will you have enough time?”
Pella grunted. “More than enough. We’ll leave tonight and I’ll watch the place for a day or two before we go in, just to see if there are any established patterns of behaviour we can make use of. If four of them do go out regularly, that will make our job easier.”
I nodded, and Equus spoke up again. “They probably do — go out regularly, I mean, after dark. Probably revolve, like regular guard duty. Otherwise they’d go insane, stuck in that house day in and day out. I mean, it’s not as if they can bring women in, is it? Not without causing talk. My guess is some will go off duty every night, after the ordinary people are asleep and the town has quietened down. They probably go to the same place all the time, some crib where they can get a drink and a woman. Find out where they go, and you can take them any time. That’ll make your house job easier.” Pella was grinning again. He had already been where Equus was telling him to go. I slapped him on the arm and got up from the stone I had perched on.