by Whyte, Jack
"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 the 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's 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 th
e 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.
"So be it!" I said. "The heavens may not approve of what we are planning, but I don't think we will hear thunderstorms of protest. And not too many men will judge us, either. "
"Caius Britannicus wouldn't approve. " Equus sounded almost condemnatory.
"No, " I agreed, "he would not. Not of the means, at any rate. The end he might applaud. "
"You think the end justifies the means, Varrus?" I turned and looked Tertius straight in the eye. "I couldn't care less. I just want Seneca stopped, and I don't want Caius Britannicus to hear anything about this until it is over. Do you both understand that?" They nodded, and Pella scratched his upper lip reflectively with the tip of one finger.
"You know, " he said quietly, "I've got good reason to hate Seneca, knowing the animal killed my son, but you, Publius Varrus, you don't like the man at all, do you?"
"That's as good a way of phrasing it as any, my friend, " I answered with a slight smile. "Go with God, Tertius. I'll look for good news on my return from the south. "
Pella was looking over my shoulder. "Here comes Caius Britannicus. Tell me, what do you think you're going to achieve at Stonehenge? Why are you even going? And who is this Celt, that he thinks he can summon Romans with a crooked finger?"
By the time Caius reached us we were well into a genuine discussion of the Stonehenge excursion, and the conversation flowed smoothly on from there. I felt only a small twinge of guilt at hoodwinking my friend Caius, but I knew that if I were successful, he would enjoy it. And besides, my anticipation of vengeance on Seneca left little room for guilt or regret. Four days later, I found myself remembering that meeting and the hazy summer heat of that afternoon with nostalgia. I was cold and I was wet. And I was unimpressed by the fact that the great, lichen-crusted stone column against which I rested my back had been standing in this place for thousands of years. In front of me, the rolling hills of the great plain of Sarum fell away in swooping waves until they were shrouded in the drizzle that hid the horizon in every direction and defied the eyes to tell where the sky ended and the ground began. There were times when Caius's beloved Britain left much to be desired. We had been here for hours, and so far there was no sign of Ullic and his Celts.
I suppose we had made a fine sight as we approached Stonehenge, but there'd been no one there to see us. The massive temple stood empty, outlined against the late afternoon sky. Caius and I were on horseback, leading two wagons bearing gifts for Ullic, and we were accompanied by a full maniple of men, arrayed in their finest trappings.
We had come late on purpose, but when we saw the great temple deserted, Caius was piqued and prepared to be angry. Seeing his mood, I was able to tease him out of it, pointing out that we had merely been outmanoeuvred, and so we camped for the night close by the temple itself, posting guards all around our perimeter. Caius had made a conscious decision, against all his training and better judgment, not to dig fortifications around our camp. We were, after all, on an embassy, and he felt strongly that this was a time for discretion, both in appearance and in deportment.
When Ullic Pendragon and his people arrived at last, at dawn, they made a spectacular entrance. They came in silence broken only by the hooves of their ponies and the squeaking wheels of Ullic's barbarously magnificent wagon.
He must have had five hundred warriors with him, many on foot, some mounted on shaggy little hill ponies with their feet reaching almost to the ground. All of them seemed dressed for war in a welter of garish colours. Ullic himself was a giant of a man, a full head taller than me. The big Celtic chieftain wore a leather helmet on his head, studded with iron, with armoured flaps that came down over his shoulders. But it was the decoration of his helmet that caught my attention. The head of a golden eagle crowned the front of it, the eyes, bright and alive-looking, glaring out at the world above the savage beak. I wondered how it had been preserved to look so lifelike, and how it was attached to the helmet beneath the ruffled neck feathers. The folded wings were fastened to the sides, and when he turned his head to look at one of his men I saw the spread tail feathers fanned out over the nape of his neck.
Caius had drawn our men up in two ranks, at attention, and I flattered myself they looked as right as Romans ever had. Each wore a plain bronze helmet and a breastplate of hardened leather. A sword belt and a skirt of leather straps studded with iron hung from every man's waist. Beneath his armour, each wore a plain white tunic that reached to just above his knees, and breeches of soft leather. On their legs they wore greaves and on their feet heavy, hobnailed, sandalled boots. Each wore a heavy cloak of homespun wool, and each held a spear and a heavy shield, the Roman soldier's scutum.
Ullic dismounted from his wagon and approached, letting us see his dress. He was swathed in a huge, red cloak, trimmed with animal fur. Barbaric jewels glittered on his breast and his legs were covered by long breeches, crisscrossed with leather bindings. His tunic was belted at the waist by a thick cord woven with what looked like gold, and both tunic and breeches were the same red as his cloak. The man was utterly splendid — and barefoot. He stopped three paces from where I stood
with Caius and looked us both up and down, from head to foot.
Caius was wearing a toga-like cloak, and I suddenly wished I had worn mine. But then he looked more closely at my clothes and I felt better. I was wearing a suit of finely worked leather that, in spite of its luxurious appointments, still managed to retain a military appearance. On my left arm I wore an arm-guard of solid silver, laced with thongs — a decoration, but a useful one, since it protected my arm against my bow string. The Chief eyed this, then ran his eyes along the ranks of our men. His eyes were bright blue and his beard and moustache were black, shot through with grey.
He looked again at Caius and finally broke the spell of silence. He spoke, his voice the rumbling sound of water in a cavern. I understood not a word. He raised a hand and snapped his fingers and Cymric stepped forward from the ranks of Celts and came towards us. Ullic spoke again. Cymric looked into my eyes as though we two had never met, and then turned to Caius.
"The King says, 'Let us talk. ' "
"King?" Caius replied, blinking in surprise. "I did not know he calls himself King!"
Ullic raised an eyebrow and Cymric rattled on in Celtic. The King frowned slightly, seemed to consider this, snapped out a word or two and then turned away and walked towards the temple.
"Come!" Cymric beckoned to us both. "Leave your men here. " Caius turned to our soldiers. "Hold your ranks!" Outnumbered as we were by four to one, we did as we were bidden and followed Ullic, who stopped to allow us to catch up. We walked in silence right into Stonehenge and I realized that, apart from Ullic, Cymric and Caius, none of the six hundred or so men gathered outside had said a single word.
We stopped in the centre of the massive temple, and Ullic turned to face us. It occurred to me that I had never been at such a loss for words, not even with the Emperor Theodosius, and then it struck me forcibly that I had seldom been in the company of such a man as this. The surprising word that came to me was regal; this man truly was kingly.