Praetorian c-11

by Simon Scarrow

  ‘Very good. I think you two may be the kind of men I can rely on after all. Your skills will be useful in the days to come. Very useful indeed.’

  ‘And what about our money, sir?’ asked Macro. ‘Capito said you’d pay us another thousand denarii as soon as the job was done.’

  ‘Of course there’s a reward. You don’t think that I would fail to honour our arrangement, I trust?’

  ‘Trust is something of a luxury in this world,’ Macro said. ‘You pay me and I trust you. But try to swindle me and you’ll end up joining Lurco … sir.’

  The centurion glared at Macro and he spoke in a soft, chilling tone. ‘You dare to threaten me? You know damn well what the penalty is for threatening a superior officer.’

  ‘But at the moment you’re not a superior officer.’ Macro lifted his lip in a faint sneer. ‘You’re a fellow conspirator. Or, as some might think, a traitor. The only difference is that you think you’re doing it for lofty ideals, whereas Capito and me are doing it for money.’

  Cato watched his friend closely. Macro was playing his part well, just as they had agreed during the time it had taken to make their way across the camp to headquarters. It was important that he and Macro had a credible motive for becoming involved in the conspiracy.

  Sinius nodded slowly. ‘I see. Tell me, are neither of you prepared to act purely out of a sense of duty to Rome?’ He shifted his gaze to Cato. ‘What about you?’

  Cato pursed his lips briefly. ‘It’s all very well to appeal to patriotism, sir, but the fact is that it makes precious little difference who runs the empire from the point of view of the likes of Calidus and me. Whether it’s Emperor Claudius in power or you and your friends makes no odds to the people of Rome, or to us soldiers.’ Cato paused. ‘As long as there’s an emperor, then there’s a Praetorian Guard, and we do well enough out of the pay and perks. If you’re planning to put your own man on the throne then we’re still in a job, and we’ll have picked up a nice little bonus for services rendered to you. However, if you’re planning on doing away with the emperors and handing power back to the senate, then we stand to lose out, unless we’re handsomely rewarded now. So, pardon me for looking out for number one. In any case, I don’t suppose for an instant that your lot won’t be passing up the chance to make your fortunes out of a change of regime. There are no pure motives in politics, are there, sir?’

  ‘Ha! What are you, Capito? A soldier, or a student of political affairs?’

  Cato eased his shoulders back and stood erect. ‘I’m a soldier. One who has served long enough to know that his first loyalty is to himself and his comrades. The rest is merely eyewash for fools.’

  There was a tense silence in the small office before Centurion Sinius smiled. ‘It’s reassuring to know that your only loyalty is to yourself. Men like you are a known quantity. As long as you are paid then you can be relied upon. Unless, of course, you encounter a more generous paymaster.’

  ‘True.’ Cato nodded. ‘Which is why you and your friends will see to it that we’re paid well if you want to keep us on your side. All the same, if you try to play any tricks on us, then I promise you won’t live long to regret it.’

  Sinius leaned back in his chair with a contemptuous expression. ‘We understand each other well enough. Just do as you are told and take your reward, and when it’s all over you keep quiet.’

  ‘You needn’t worry,’ said Macro. ‘We know how to keep our mouths shut.’

  ‘Then see that you do.’ Sinius picked the severed digit up between thumb and forefinger and dropped it into an old rag. He wrapped the soiled cloth round the noisome object and placed it in a small chest where he kept his styli and pens. Snapping the lid shut, Sinius glanced up at the other men. ‘That’s all for now.’

  ‘Not quite all,’ Macro growled. ‘Our money.’

  ‘Of course.’ Sinius rose from his chair and crossed the office to a strongbox. He took a key on a chain from round his neck and fitted it into the lock. He reached in and drew out two leather pouches then closed the lid. He returned to his desk and set the pouches down with a soft clink. ‘Your silver.’

  Cato stared at the two bags, quickly estimating their likely contents. He looked up with a frown. ‘How much is in there?’

  ‘Two hundred denarii in each.’

  ‘You said a thousand,’ Cato snapped. ‘Where’s the rest?’

  ‘You’ll get it when the job is done, and only then.’

  ‘It is done. Lurco has been dealt with.’

  ‘Lurco is one step along the path. Your services are needed for a little longer.’

  Cato sucked in a breath and spoke through clenched teeth. ‘What else is there to do?’

  ‘All in good time.’ Sinius smiled. ‘Suffice to say that it’ll all be over within a month. Then you shall have the rest of your reward. You have my word on it.’

  ‘Your word?’ Cato sneered, reaching forward to take the purses and hand one to Macro. ‘Listen, friend. In this world only money talks. You still owe us three hundred each. Now you’d better tell me what we have to do to earn it. If I’m going to put my neck out for you and your friends, then I want to know what you’re asking of us.’

  ‘No. You do as you are told, when you’re told. That is all. The less you know, the better for all of us. Now go. Return to your barracks. You’ll be given your instructions when we’re ready to act.’ Sinius cleared his throat and concluded in a loud curt voice, ‘Dismissed!’

  Cato and Macro stood to attention, saluted and then turned smartly to march from the office. Once the door was closed behind them Cato let out a sigh of relief and marched off down the corridor with Macro at his side.

  ‘Things seem to be moving to a head,’ Macro spoke softly. ‘Within a month, he said.’

  Cato nodded. ‘And we’re still no closer to discovering who Sinius is working for. We’re going to have to watch him more closely from now on. Follow him, see who he speaks to. He has to meet with the other Liberators at some point. When he does, we need to be there.’

  ‘Easier said than done,’ Macro responded. ‘They’ll be taking precautions. What if they only communicate by some kind of coded written message?’

  Cato thought for a moment. ‘That’s possible … But if they are going to act soon then there’s every chance they will have to speak face to face. We’ll start following Sinius as soon as we’ve dealt with that business down at the Boarium.’

  ‘All right,’ Macro agreed. ‘But before we meet Septimus there’s another small matter that needs seeing to.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  Macro hefted his pouch of silver. ‘I’m not leaving this in the barracks where some thieving little toerag can get his hands on it. So before we go anywhere else, I think a little visit to one of the bankers in the Forum is called for.’

  Cato slowed his stride to turn to his friend. ‘What are you thinking? Do you mean to keep that money?’

  Macro could not hide his surprise. ‘Of course.’

  ‘But you know damn well where the silver has come from.’ Cato glanced round to make sure no one was close enough to overhear them. Apart from a handful of clerks chatting several paces ahead of them, the corridor was deserted. Cato lowered his voice even further. ‘It belongs to the Emperor.’

  ‘Not any more, it seems.’

  ‘You think Narcissus is the kind of man who will accept that line of argument? He’ll want it back, every coin that can possibly be recovered.’

  ‘Which is every coin that he knows about. So I’m not going to mention this little lot. Nor are you,’ Macro concluded firmly. ‘Besides, lad, we’ve earned it, several times over. We’ll just quietly bank this for now. If no one asks us for it, then there’s no harm in hanging on to it. Agreed?’

  Cato felt a surge of frustration briefly course through his veins. ‘What if Sinius spills his guts when Narcissus moves to crush the plot? What if he tells Narcissus that we have the silver?’

  Macro shrugged. ‘Then we’ll just have
to make sure that we get to Sinius first when it’s over.’ His expression hardened as he glanced at Cato. ‘If he’s silenced before he can talk, then we might even get our hands on that chest he keeps in his office.’

  The anxiety of a moment earlier returned as Cato hissed, ‘You’re playing with fire, Macro. Don’t even think about it.’

  ‘Why the hell not? I’m sick of doing Narcissus’s dirty work for no reward. No fair reward at least. This is a chance for us to get ahead in life, lad. We’d be fools to duck the opportunity.’

  Cato could see the dangerous gleam in his friend’s eyes and knew it would be foolhardy to try to gainsay Macro in his present mood.

  ‘We’ll talk about it later, all right? I need time to think.’

  Macro’s eyes narrowed briefly, then he forced a slight smile. ‘Very well, later.’

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  ‘That’s the place,’ Cato muttered as he gestured towards the warehouse. Macro and Septimus were on either side of him as they strolled along the wharf. The same guard who had brusquely rebuffed Cato a few days earlier was sitting on a stool beside the gate. He held a small loaf in one hand and a wizened end of cured sausage in the other and his jaw worked steadily as he stared absentmindedly at the barges moored along the quay opposite the line of warehouses. Despite the lack of grain there were still imports of olive oil, wine, fruit, as well as the usual flow of luxury foods for the richest tables in Rome. All of which fetched prices far beyond the reach of the teeming multitude of the capital’s poorest inhabitants.

  A short distance along the wharf from the warehouse of Gaius Frontinus a small crowd of ragged people stood watching the unloading of a barge. Several jars of wine had already been landed and now a chain gang was unloading large baskets of dried dates. The gang master was accompanied by a handful of men armed with cudgels who formed a loose cordon around the goods on the wharf and warily kept an eye on the surrounding crowd.

  ‘Over there,’ Cato said softly. ‘We won’t stand out in the crowd.’

  They made their way over to the fringe of the silent gathering of men and women, some with children, and edged round until they could see the warehouse gate and the guard sitting in front of it. A moment before, Cato had not considered what the man was doing, but now he saw it for what it was, a cold-hearted display of cruelty as he ate while others starved.

  ‘What are we going to do?’ asked Septimus. ‘We can’t just walk in.’

  ‘We could,’ Macro growled. ‘There’s three of us and one of him.’

  Septimus shook his head. ‘If we force our way in, then word will get back to Cestius soon enough and the Liberators will know that we are on to them. We can’t afford to scare them into hiding. It’s just as important to smash the conspiracy as find the grain. Meanwhile we have to get in there and confirm that the grain is actually inside, and then get out without the alarm being raised.’

  Cato scratched his cheek. ‘Won’t be easy. The warehouse is built round a courtyard. The wall facing the wharf is the lowest point. The rest of it is built up against the warehouses on either side and behind. There’s no other way in. We have to go in through the gate, or over the wall. If we try and scale that, we’re bound to be seen by the guard.’

  Macro ran his eyes over the warehouse and nodded. ‘You’re right. So what do we do?’

  Cato looked round the wharf for a moment before fixing his attention on the men unloading the barge, surrounded by the small crowd. ‘We need a diversion. That’s a job for you, Septimus. While Macro and I get inside the warehouse.’

  He quickly explained his plan and then, while Septimus worked his way through the crowd towards the edge of the wharf, Cato and Macro moved off, back in the direction of the Boarium. They took care to keep close to the edge of the Tiber in order not to attract the guard’s attention. There was a small danger that he might remember Cato’s face, even though his coarse features and bovine expression hinted at a mind that was not readily accustomed to the retention of information. Once they had covered a safe distance they stopped and looked out across the moored barges to the leaden flow of the Tiber. Cato glanced towards the crowd and saw Septimus standing close to the gangway leading up from the barge. Cato discreetly raised a hand to give the signal.

  Septimus edged forward and waited until one of the slaves carrying the baskets of dried fruit struggled up on to the wharf. Then he darted between two of the gang master’s men and thrust his arms out into the slave’s side. The latter tumbled over, his basket flying through the air until it hit the ground and dates exploded across the wharf. At once the waiting crowd surged forward and down, hands scrabbling to scoop up the dried fruit.

  ‘Get off! Get back, you bastards!’ the gang master bellowed in rage as he laid into them with his cudgel. He looked up at his men. ‘What are you lot waiting for? Get ‘em away from the goods!’

  His men were startled into action and they began to lash out at those scrabbling around on the ground at their feet. In the struggle another basket was knocked over, spilling its contents. An excited cry went up as the starving mob closed in.

  Cato glanced quickly over his shoulder and saw that the guard outside the warehouse gate had stopped chewing and stood up to get a better view of the action. His lips lifted into a slight smile of amusement, and then he took a few paces away from his station to watch the frenzied violence as the mob and the gang master’s men fought it out over the spilled barley.

  ‘Come on!’ Cato tugged Macro’s sleeve and they turned to pad across the wharf to the warehouse wall. The guard had his back to them. He tore off another chunk of bread and continued to eat while watching the spectacle. Beyond the struggle Cato glimpsed Septimus backing away now that he had played his part in the plan. They reached the wall and Macro turned and clasped his hands together and braced himself against the rough bricks. Cato placed his right boot in Macro’s hands and as his friend began to lift, Cato straightened his leg and reached up, fingers seeking purchase as he rose up the wall.

  ‘Get me higher.’

  Macro grunted with effort as he lifted Cato up and then groaned as Cato stood on his shoulder.

  ‘I’m there,’ Cato called down softly and then gritted his teeth as he pulled himself on to the wall and swung one of his legs up. His heart was pounding with the effort and he glanced quickly at the guard and was relieved to see him still watching the chaos on the wharf. Cato dropped down behind the wall and hurriedly unravelled the length of rope tied about his middle and hidden by a fold in his tunic. He tossed one end back over the wall and then grasped the other tightly, leant back and braced one foot against the wall. An instant later he felt Macro’s weight drag at the rope. There was a scuffling sound and a muttered curse before Macro appeared on top of the wall. He hurriedly clambered over and dropped down inside the warehouse yard, dragging the rope over behind him.

  For a moment both men stood breathing heavily, ears straining for any indication that they had been discovered. Cato looked round the interior of the warehouse yard. A paved area approximately a hundred feet by forty ran between the high walls of the massive building which enclosed the yard on three sides. Several doors faced the yard, all of them closed. There was no sign of life, and the yard felt oddly quiet after the din of the fight on the wharf. A handful of small handcarts stood against the wall. Cato took a deep breath and indicated the carts. ‘At least getting out is going to be easier than getting in.’

  ‘If you say so,’ Macro replied. ‘That depends on Septimus doing his job.’

  ‘He did well enough to get us in. We can count on him. Come on.’ Cato stepped towards the nearest door and saw that it was secured with a heavy iron bolt. A quick glance round the yard was enough to see that all the others were also bolted. Cato took up the lever and tested the bolt. With a lot of effort it began to move, giving a loud squeal as it did so. Cato stopped at once.

  ‘Shit.’

  ‘Easy there, lad,’ said Macro. ‘The noise outside will cover any that we make.
And we can shift the bolts nice and slow.’

  They took firm hold of the iron bolt and began to heave again. With a gentle rasp the bolt moved and a moment later slipped free of the receiving bracket. Fearing that the hinges might be as noisy as the door, Cato pulled it open carefully, just wide enough to admit himself and Macro. The light spilled across an empty stone floor and cast long shadows before the two men as they slowly entered, squinting into the shadows as their eyes adjusted to the gloom. It was a large space, eighty feet deep by half as much in width. Overhead the beams were high above the floor and a latticework of timbers supported a tiled roof. There were two narrow slits in the wall, high up, to provide light and ventilation, but not wide enough for even a child to squeeze through.

  Cato bent down and scraped up some of the dust and grains from the floor. ‘Looks like there has been wheat here.’

  Macro nodded as he glanced around. ‘If every chamber in this place is as big as this one, then there’d have been enough here to feed Rome for months. Let’s try the next one.’

  They worked their way round the warehouse yard, but every chamber was empty like the first. The only contents were a few coils of rope, blocks and tackle for unloading heavy items from the beds of wagons and a pile of torn and grimy sacking in the corner of the yard. In every chamber there was the same evidence that wheat had been stored there, and from the condition of the grain scattered on the floor, recently at that. When they closed the last of the doors Cato stepped back into the middle of the yard and folded his arms, frowning.