The loud clatter of Macro’s boots caused the two old men to break off their discussion and look up with a frown at the new arrival who had disrupted the usual quiet of the library. Although Cato must have heard the sound of his friend’s boots, he continued reading until Macro was almost upon him and then placed his finger on the papyrus to mark his place and looked up. His face was gaunt and he regarded Macro without a flicker of expression as he sat down on the bench opposite Cato. The younger officer had received a severe wound to his face while they were in Egypt and now a white line of scar tissue stretched from his forehead, across his brow and down his cheek. It was quite a dramatic scar but it had not really disfigured his features. A mark to be proud of, Macro thought. Something that would distinguish Cato from the other fresh-faced officers serving the Emperor, and one that would single him out as the seasoned veteran he had become since joining the Second Legion as a weedy recruit some eight years earlier.
‘Found what you’re looking for?’ Macro nodded at the sheets in front of Cato, then gestured to the laden shelves lining the walls. ‘More than enough reading matter to keep you busy, eh? Should help to pass the time.’
‘Until what, I wonder.’ Cato raised his spare hand and lightly rubbed his cheek where the scar ended. ‘We’ve heard nothing from Narcissus for nearly a month now.’
Cato had sent a message to the imperial secretary via the innkeeper, requesting to know why he and Macro had to remain in Ostia. The reply had been terse and simply told them to wait. Cato’s boredom at the enforced stay in the port alternated with acute anger that he was being kept from seeing Julia. Even so, he was tormented by the prospect of her reaction to his scar. Would she accept it and take him into her arms again? Or would she recoil in disgust? Worst of all, Cato feared that she would pity him and offer herself to him on that basis. The thought sickened him. Until he saw her again he could not know her response. Nor could he prepare her for the encounter since Narcissus had forbidden him from contacting her.
‘What are you reading there?’ Macro broke into his thoughts.
Cato focused his mind. ‘It’s a copy of the gazette from Rome. I’ve been catching up on events in the city over recent months to see if there’s any hint of what it is that Narcissus needs us for.’
‘And?’
‘Nothing that springs out. Just the usual round of ceremonies, announcements of appointments and births, marriages and deaths of the great and good. There was a mention of Senator Sempronius. He was commended by the Emperor for putting down the slave revolt in Crete.’
‘No mention of our part in that, I suppose,’ Macro mused.
‘Alas, no.’
‘Well, there’s a surprise. Anything else of note?’
Cato glanced down at the sheets in front of him and shook his head. ‘Nothing significant, unless …’ He shuffled through the sheets, scanning them briefly, then pulled one out. ‘Here. A report dated two weeks ago announcing that one of the Guard’s officers had been waylaid by brigands and killed near Picenum. The brigands have not been found … He leaves behind a grieving widow and young son, et cetera.’ Cato looked up. ‘That’s all.’
‘Doesn’t sound like it has anything to do with our being here,’ Macro said.
‘I suppose not.’ Cato sat back and stretched his arms out as he yawned widely. When he had finished, he leant on his elbows and stared at Macro. ‘Another day in the wonderful town of Ostia then. What shall we do for entertainment? Nothing on at the theatre. It’s too cold to go to the beach and swim. Most of the bathhouses are closed until trade picks up in the spring and our friend, Spurius the innkeeper, refuses to light a fire to warm his place until the evening.’
Macro laughed. ‘My, you are in a miserable mood!’ He thought a moment and then his eyebrows rose. ‘Tell you what. According to Spurius there’s some new stock at that brothel down by the Baths of Mithras. Want to go and see what’s on offer? Something to keep us nice and warm. What do you say?’
‘It’s tempting. But I’m not in the mood.’
‘Bollocks. You’re saving yourself for that girl, aren’t you?’
Cato shrugged. The truth was he did not relish the prospect of visiting the disease-riddled whores who served the townsmen and passing sailors. If he caught anything off them then it would ruin his prospects of any happy union with Julia. ‘You go, if you really want to. I’m heading back to the inn for a bite, then I’m going to settle down for a read.’
‘A read,’ Macro repeated blankly. ‘What have you got in your veins, lad? Blood, or thin soup?’
‘Either way, I’m staying in our room and reading. You can do what you like.’
‘I will. Just as soon as I’ve eaten something to get my strength up.’
The benches scraped back as the two soldiers rose to their feet. Cato swept the gazettes together and returned them to a shelf before he and Macro marched out of the library, their footsteps disturbing the other two men once again.
‘Shhh!’ One of them raised a finger to his lips. ‘This is a library, you know!’
‘Library!’ Macro sneered. ‘It’s a whorehouse of ideas, that’s what. The only difference is that a library will never leave you with a nice warm glow inside, eh?’
‘Shocking!’ the man expostulated. He turned to Cato. ‘Sir, please be so good as to remove your companion from the premises.’
‘He needs no urging, believe me. Come, Macro.’ Cato tugged his arm and steered his friend towards the doorway.
Spurius’s cook, an antique sailor who had lost his leg in an accident, served them a thin stew of barley and chunks of meat that might have come from a highly seasoned lamb shank, but it was hard to be certain as it had lost any flavour it had once had and was the texture of damp tree bark. But it was warm and managed to assuage the soldiers’ appetite. When Cato asked for some bread, the cook scowled, stumped off, and returned with a stale loaf which he set down on the table with a thud.
‘Here! Spurius!’ Macro bellowed, startling the four other customers of the inn. Spurius was at the bar arranging his cheap clay cups on the shelves behind the counter. He turned round irritably and hurried over to the table.
‘What is it? And do you mind keeping your voice down?’
Macro gestured towards the bowl of stew, which was still a third full. ‘I may be hungry enough to eat this swill but I draw the line at bread that I would not even force a bloody pig to eat.’ He picked up the loaf and slammed it down on the table top. ‘Hard as a rock.’
‘So soak it in the stew. It’ll soften up soon enough,’ Spurius suggested in a helpful tone.
‘I want good bread,’ Macro replied firmly. ‘Freshly baked. And I want it now.’
‘Sorry, there’s none available.’
Macro eased his stool back. He continued in a lower voice to make sure that the other customers would not overhear. ‘Look, you’ve been told to look after us and no doubt you’re being paid well enough to put us up and feed us.’
‘I’m being paid a pittance for the pair of you,’ Spurius grumbled. ‘Or at least I will be when you leave and Narcissus settles up. Meanwhile you’re eating into my profits.’
Macro smiled. ‘That snake Narcissus never gives up more than he has to and is as likely to cheat you as he is to honour his word, as we’ve found out to our cost on more than one occasion.’
‘Macro, that’s enough,’ Cato warned him. ‘We don’t talk about our business.’
Macro turned to stare hard at him, and then his expression softened. ‘All right. But I don’t take kindly to being left high and dry in Ostia with only this dive for food and shelter. It ain’t right, Cato.’
‘Of course not, but there’s nothing we can do about it.’ Cato turned to the innkeeper. ‘Now then, I know you resent us being foisted on you. We don’t like it either. But in the interests of us getting on with each other and not causing any trouble, I suggest you do something to improve our rations. To start with, I suggest you get my friend the fresh bread he asked for.’<
br />
Spurius took a calming breath and nodded slightly. ‘I’ll see what I can find. If you promise not to cause any trouble with the other customers.’
Cato nodded. ‘We promise.’
The innkeeper returned to the counter and had a quiet word with his cook. Cato smiled sweetly at Macro. ‘See what a little bit of reason can achieve?’
Macro sniffed. ‘It has its place. But then I have to say that I have found that the application of force can be equally effective at producing results from time to time.’
‘Not if you don’t want to draw attention to yourself.’
Macro shook his head. ‘I could do with a little attention, Cato. This place is driving me mad. It’s bad enough that we have to sit and wait at Narcissus’s pleasure. But the bastard hasn’t advanced us more than a fraction of the back pay we’re due and we can’t even afford decent food or more comfortable lodgings.’
Cato was silent for a moment. ‘No doubt that’s intended to help make us compliant.’
Before Macro could respond there was a rattle of cart wheels in the street outside and then the sound died away abruptly as the vehicle drew up outside the inn. Spurius hurried to the door, eased it open a fraction, then quickly ducked outside, shutting the door behind him. Macro and Cato heard a brief muted exchange before the cart continued round the building to the rear where there was a small yard with stalls for the horses of travellers stopping at the inn.
‘New customers for this dump,’ Macro mused. ‘Do you think we should warn them off?’
‘Just leave it,’ Cato said wearily. He stared down into his bowl for a moment before reluctantly picking up his spoon to consume some more of the stew. Shortly afterwards, the cook reappeared, looking flustered as he limped over to the table and presented them with a fresh loaf. Macro sniffed and looked at Cato in surprise. ‘Freshly baked!’
He picked it up, tore it in half and thrust a chunk towards Cato before tearing into the warm doughy mass with relish. From the back rooms of the inn came the sound of voices and the scrape of furniture and it was a short while before Spurius emerged through the low door behind the counter. He glanced round at the other customers and then crossed the room to Macro and Cato’s table.
‘What now?’ Macro muttered. ‘I’ll bet the bastard wants to move us out of the room to make way for his new guest.’
‘I don’t think so.’
Spurius leant towards them and spoke very quietly. ‘Follow me.’
Cato and Macro exchanged a quick glance before Cato responded, ‘Why?’
‘Why?’ Spurius frowned. ‘Just come with me, sir. It’ll be clear enough in a moment. I can’t say anything else.’ He made a slight nod towards his remaining customers. ‘If you understand me.’
Macro shrugged. ‘No.’
‘Come on,’ said Cato. ‘Let’s go.’
They left what remained of their meal and rose to follow the innkeeper across the room towards the door that led to the back. The other people in the room could not help eyeing them curiously as they passed by, Cato noted with a faint smile of amusement. Spurius went first, followed by Macro, with Cato last, who had to stoop under the door frame. There was a narrow room beyond, lit by a single oil lamp. By its weak glow Cato could see that the walls were lined with jars of wine and baskets of vegetables, and a net of fresh bread hung from a hook, close to two joints of cured meat. Clearly the innkeeper ate well, even if his customers didn’t. At the far end of the room a door stood slightly ajar and the frame was brightly lit by a fire burning in the next room. Spurius entered the room, followed by Macro who immediately uttered a curse. The room was generously proportioned with a wide table at its centre. A freshly stoked cooking fire crackled beneath the iron grill and provided the room with a rosy light. Seated on the far side of the table was a slender figure in a plain cloak. He looked up from the cheese and bread that had been laid before him and smiled as he saw Macro and Cato.
‘Greetings, gentlemen. It is good of you to join me!’ Narcissus waved them towards the bench opposite him. ‘Or rather, it is good of me to join you.’
‘What are you doing here?’ asked Macro. ‘I had begun to fear that you were going to keep us sitting on our arses forever.’
‘It is a pleasure to see you too, Centurion,’ Narcissus responded smoothly. ‘The waiting is over. Your Emperor needs you again. Now more than ever …’
CHAPTER THREE
Cato responded to the imperial secretary’s greeting with a cold stare. Despite being born into slavery in the imperial palace, Narcissus had worked hard and been set free by Claudius in the years before he had become Emperor. As a freedman Narcissus had a lower social status than even the humblest Roman citizen, but as one of the closest advisers to the Emperor he had power and influence far beyond that of any aristocrat sitting in the senate. It was Narcissus who also controlled the spy network dedicated to sniffing out threats to his master. In this role he had made use of the services of Cato and Macro before, and was about to again, Cato reflected sourly.
Once the innkeeper had brought a jar of wine and three cups, Narcissus dismissed him. ‘That will do for now, Spurius. Make sure that we are not interrupted, nor overheard.’
‘Yes, master.’ Spurius bowed his head and then turned to leave. He paused at the door. ‘Master?’
‘What is it?’
‘About my daughter. Is there any news of her?’
‘Pergilla, wasn’t it? Yes, I’m still trying to persuade the Emperor to grant her freedom. These things take time. You keep your end of the bargain and I’ll do all I can for her.’ Narcissus waved his hand. ‘Now leave us.’
Spurius hurried out and Narcissus waited until the sound of footsteps faded and the door at the far end of the linking room closed behind the innkeeper.
‘He’s a good and faithful servant, but he can be rather demanding at times. Anyway, enough of him!’ Narcissus leant forward and nodded at the jar. ‘Macro, why don’t you pour us all a drink. We should celebrate this reunion of old friends.’
Macro shook his head. ‘The last thing you are is a friend of mine.’
Narcissus stared at him for a moment and then nodded. ‘Very well then, Centurion. I’ll do the honours.’ He leant forward, pulled out the stopper and poured a dark red wine into each of the cups. Then he set the jar down and raised his cup. ‘At least join me in a toast … Death to the enemies of the Emperor.’
Macro had been looking longingly at the wine and with only a brief show of reluctance he picked up the nearest of the cups and repeated the toast. He took a sip and made an appreciative noise. ‘So this is what that tight bastard Spurius has been keeping back from us.’
‘You’ve not been entertained well then, I take it?’ asked Narcissus. ‘Spurius was instructed to make you comfortable.’
‘He did his best,’ said Cato. If the innkeeper was to be believed then he had not been compensated for the imposition of two guests for as many months. Moreover, if Narcissus was using Spurius’s daughter to enforce his will on the innkeeper, Cato was not going to add to the man’s problems. ‘We were given a clean room and fed regularly. Spurius has served you well.’
‘I suppose he has.’ Narcissus glanced at Macro’s surprised expression and then cocked an eyebrow. ‘Though you don’t appear to agree that he has served you particularly well.’
‘We’re soldiers,’ Macro replied. ‘We are used to worse.’
‘So you are. And it is time for you to serve Rome once more.’ Narcissus took a small mouthful of wine and licked his lips. ‘Falernian. Spurius is trying to impress!’
‘I imagine you will be in a hurry to return to the palace,’ said Cato. ‘Best that we get straight to business.’
‘How considerate of you, young Cato,’ Narcissus responded in an icy tone. He set his cup down with a sharp rap. ‘Very well. You recall our last meeting?’
‘On Capreae, yes.’
‘I raised the matter of a new threat posed by the Liberators. Those scum will never res
t until the Emperor is disposed of. Naturally, they claim to act in the interests of the senate and people of Rome, but in reality they will plunge Rome back into the dark age of tyrants like Sulla and Marius. The senate would be riven by factions fighting for power. We’d have a civil war on our hands within months of the fall of Claudius.’ Narcissus paused for a moment. ‘The senate had its uses in an age before Rome acquired an empire. Now, only a supreme authority can provide the order that is needed. The fact is that the senators cannot be trusted with the safety and security of Rome.’
Cato laughed drily. ‘And you can be, I suppose.’
Narcissus was silent for a moment, his narrow nostrils flared with disdain. Then he nodded. ‘Yes. I, and those who serve me, are all that stand between order and bloody chaos.’
‘That may be true,’ Cato conceded, ‘but the fact is that the order you claim to protect is almost as bloody from time to time.’
‘There is a price to pay for order. Do you really think peace and prosperity can be maintained without the shedding of a modicum of blood? You two soldiers, of all people, must know that. But what you don’t know is that the wars you wage for Rome don’t end when the battles are over. There is another battlefield, far from the frontier, that goes on, never ending, and that is the fight for order. That is the war that I wage. My enemies are not screaming barbarians. They are smooth-talking creatures lurking in the shadows who seek personal power at the expense of the public good. They may dress their base ambitions up in the robes of principle, but believe me there is no evil they would not countenance to achieve their ends. That is why Rome needs me, and why she needs you. Men like us are her only hope for survival.’ Narcissus paused and helped himself to some more wine, and licked his lips.
‘It’s funny,’ said Cato. ‘When other men act out of self-interest you call it evil. When we do it, we’re patriots.’
‘That is because our cause is just. Theirs is not.’
Praetorian c-11 Page 3