With just a quick look to check on the three, he hurried along the archways. Sure enough, in the third one from the end, he could see lamplight deep within, its golden glow casting the shape of a man into silhouette, as well as the shapes of the floor-to-ceiling bars behind which he languished.
‘Prefect,’ he breathed in relief, running into the otherwise-empty store room.
‘Rufinus?’ came the startled reply.
‘Yes sir. My brother and I.’ He turned to Publius. ‘Stay here near the entrance. I think if we’d been heard we’d have seen more company by now, but I’ll feel more comfortable if you’re watching the corridor.’
Publius nodded and leaned against the wall, arms folded while Rufinus closed on the makeshift prison. The last sectioned off area of the chamber had been locked, leaving Perennis with a cell some fifteen feet by twenty, a sleeping pallet and two buckets, one of which would be for water…
‘This is unacceptable, sir. They can’t keep a respected member of the equestrian order in such conditions? And a Praetorian prefect, no less.’
‘I fear respected is hardly an appropriate term now, young Rufinus. I have felt the headsman’s sword hanging over my neck for days, and he awaits only the confirmation of the emperor to strike.’
‘But this place…’
‘Is fine by me. Cleander would have had me in the carcer, like a common criminal. The emperor would have preferred to have me under house arrest. The compromise you see before you. But what of the boys. You are fresh back from Pannonia? You saw them?’
Rufinus swallowed nervously, felt a chasm opening up beneath him.
‘Yes, sir. I…’
‘What is it?’
‘I’m sorry, sir. I’m not sure how to say it.’
Perennis’ face had darkened. ‘Spit it out, man.’
‘Secundus is dead, sir.’
‘I sent you with warnings and information to protect them,’ hissed the prefect.
‘I know, sir. But Cleander sent other Praetorians.’
‘Yes, I know. To fake gold coins that would ruin me.’ He sagged, but then urgency entered his being again and he grasped the bars, pulling himself close to Rufinus. ‘And Caelus?’
‘Cleander’s Praetorians got to Secundus, despite the presence of a frumentarius, sir, but when we left him, Caelus was still well. Better still, he had the information you sent, a sizeable army, and that same frumentarius had put a strong guard on him.’
‘Good.’ Perennis sagged again. ‘Oh, Secundus. My hubris has undone you. Had I just let Cleander have his way and not opposed him, none of this would have happened.’
‘But we have to oppose men like Cleander,’ Rufinus insisted. ‘Villains like him will bring down the empire if left unopposed.’
‘At least my wife and the infant should be safe. I sent them off to a distant estate the moment I knew the tide was turning against me. And with Caelus secure…’
‘Sir,’ Rufinus said breathlessly, ‘there’s still a chance.’
‘I think not, Rufinus. The evidence against me, fantastical that it is, remains overwhelming. The senate, the imperial court, the public and even my own soldiers are calling for my head. Only the trust of my emperor has kept me alive this long, and he cannot afford to save me and risk alienating the entire empire. I must be sacrificed for the sake of stability.’
‘But sir, we have evidence.’ Rufinus turned back toward the corridor. ‘Publius, show him the evidence!’
Publius came closer, opening up the pouch and retrieving the dies, which he held, glinting in the light, in the palm of his hand.
‘Are those…?
‘Yes. The dies that struck the fake coins. We know the coins were manufactured in Pannonia by agents of Cleander, but the dies were made here. And when we find the man who made them…’
‘Then you will have a little shaky evidence. I know you think you’re important and incorruptible, Rufinus, and I find I agree in truth, but no magistrate will consider your testimony enough to save me, especially when they learn that you went to Pannonia on my command. And the coin dies might have helped if you had an impartial witness, such as your frumentarius, but without supporting testimony, the dies are no use. Probably even then there would be no hope – the weight of Rome entire is against me, now. I am a lost cause, Rufinus. My head will roll any day now. Possibly any hour. I have made peace with my gods and my fate. I had worried about my boys, but now I can go safely into Elysium. Caelus is safe, and Secundus awaits me there. One thing I would ask is for a coin, so that I may pay the boatman on my final voyage.’
‘Sir, there is a chance…’
‘No, Rufinus. There isn’t. And while I am grateful that you risked so much to find me and tell me of my boys and held to your oath when most of my guard failed me, I need you to go now.’
‘No, sir, I…’
‘Go, Rufinus. If you are caught here it will be the end of you.’
‘Sir…’
‘Go.’
‘Oh shit,’ murmured Publius, closing his fist around the precious dies and hurrying back down the vaulted chamber toward the entrance. Rufinus frowned, but then he too heard the sound of footsteps. Several pairs of footsteps.
‘Publius,’ he hissed, flicking his head back and forth between his brother and the prefect, torn unbearably.
‘Go,’ urged Perennis. ‘Quickly.’
Rufinus felt his soul wither a little as he turned his back on the man he had raced all the way from Pannonia to save. After all they had endured, surely this could not be the end?
His heart lurched in his chest as figures appeared in the corridor at the end of the room just as Publius was about to turn into it. His eyes picked out few details at first, other than the fact than five of the six figures were mailed and in white and the other wore a toga. Then, as he slowed his pace, panic rising, he picked out two particular faces in that group and his world plunged into Hades.
Cleander had the most insufferably smug smile as his Praetorians drew their swords and stepped forward to meet Publius, who had already drawn his.
The other face was as horribly familiar in every way, and especially in one new and dreadful way. Quintus Oppius Glabrio, the cavalry decurion who had pursued them to Pannonia, where he had secured the fake evidence against Perennis. The man who had tried to kill them there and who had made their return journey so perilous and slow. Glabrio had been a menace and an impediment and worse ever since they had left Rome. But now Rufinus was also seeing Cleander’s pet in a new light. For in the week since they had last met in Pannonia, the cavalryman’s beard had filled out and now Rufinus finally knew. When he’d seen the horseman on the dock at Ancona, he had been sure he knew him, but couldn’t remember from where. But now, with the beard, he knew all at once that Glabrio had always been Cleander’s man, and had engineered this from the start. For he could remember that same bearded face in the great theatre of Pompey on the night of the festival of Jupiter back in October. Then, the cavalryman had been on the stage in a state of semi-undress, haranguing the crowd with the very accusations against Perennis that had started this entire chain of events. It had been Glabrio who Rufinus had brought down on that stage that night, and that was why he’d never heard what happened to the man. The felled speaker had been taken out of Rufinus’ hands by other Praetorian cavalrymen – almost certainly cronies of Glabrio’s – who had hustled him out, back to the barracks, where he had probably shaved and dressed in time to be on duty when everyone returned.
It was masterful.
Diabolical, but masterful.
Perennis had never stood a chance against a plot so long in the planning and execution.
And now Cleander controlled most of Rome.
And the brothers Rustius were trapped.
Cleander began to chuckle.
XX – An impossible choice
‘Publius, back away.’
But Rufinus’ brother was in trouble. His left hand slipped behind his back, gripping the coin dies so
tightly his knuckles were white and shaking, while his right hand held his gladius forth, brandishing it, wavering, at the three Praetorians who were advancing on him with their own blades drawn.
‘Publius!’
His brother stepped backward carefully, first one tiny step and then another, but he was slowly backing toward one of the sets of iron railings that subdivided the chamber into individual storage cells. Rufinus let out a strangled cry and started to pound toward them, knowing he would never get there in time.
Publius bumped up against the iron rails and lashed out with his sword, as though trying to keep the Praetorians at bay.
‘Alright Cleander. Call your men off him,’ shouted Perennis from somewhere back in the gloom.
‘A man bearing a sword against the Praetorian Guard?’ replied Cleander with forced disbelief. ‘A man known to be working with traitors?’
‘I’d use that word very carefully if I were you,’ growled Rufinus as he came to a halt halfway between Perennis’ cell and the trouble. The prefect had been right. Intervention with a sword would just get Publius killed now. He had to reason a way out of this.
He opened his mouth to speak just as Publius roared and thrust his blade at a guardsman. The man bellowed in pain as the sword jammed into his upper arm, sinking deep into the muscle. But Publius was not trained with the blade, and had seen very little practice. The surprise that he had actually succeeded left him floundering as the Praetorian dropped back, hissing, and the blade was torn from the young brother’s hand.
‘Bastard,’ snarled one of the others and raised his blade for a killing blow.
Rufinus shouted something. He wasn’t sure what, but it sounded desperate.
Glabrio had stepped forward, pushing the wounded man and the one with the raised sword out of the way, and now approached Publius, who recoiled against the bars as though he might manage to shrink and squeeze between them.
‘Let him go,’ Rufinus finally said in a low, careful, measured tone.
‘Why would we do that?’ Glabrio smirked.
‘He’s just a boy. Not a senator or a soldier or anything to you. You have Perennis and you have me. You don’t need him.’
Cleander now stepped forward out of the corridor’s light and into the dimness of the chamber, where he suddenly appeared taller and far more menacing in silhouette.
‘I suspect we might, guardsman Rustius Rufinus. One does not throw away a piece without seeing if there is a place on the board for it.’
‘Let him go and I’ll do whatever you want.’
‘I think we can achieve that anyway, young man.’
Glabrio grabbed hold of Publius’ left shoulder and Rufinus started forward for a moment as his brother struggled to slip from the iron grip until one of the other guardsman placed the tip of his gladius against the young man’s neck.
‘Don’t hurt him.’
Glabrio yanked Publius away from the bars, the other two sword-points hovering close. As the young man stumbled his left arm flailed, and the Praetorian cavalryman grabbed his wrist and jerked it forward. Publius whimpered at the pain as Glabrio squeezed his wrist until his hand opened in agony, revealing the coin dies.
‘Well, well. After all the trouble I went to in Carnuntum to find these.’
Grabbing the dies, Glabrio released the young man’s wrist and turned. ‘Domine?’
Cleander nodded and the decurion tossed the incriminating items to him. Cleander caught them easily, looked with fascination at the things in his palm, and then held one up to the light to examine it.
‘They really are masterful. How did you manage this, Perennis?’ he grinned.
Publius, hissing and rubbing his wrist, glared at the imperial chamberlain. ‘No one is fooled by you now, Cleander.’
‘Quiet, pup!’ snapped Glabrio and gave Publius a slap to the side of the head that sent him reeling against the bars.
‘Leave him alone,’ snarled Rufinus, taking a couple more steps toward them.
‘Yes,’ Cleander said with a smile. ‘Don’t damage him, Quintus. He and his brother could be very useful.’
‘Just kill them and get it over with,’ Glabrio rumbled, glaring at Rufinus even as he drew his sword and levelled it at the younger brother. Rufinus’ breath caught in his throat. How could he get out of this? He needed to keep them talking to give him long enough to think.
‘How did you find us?’ he asked. Not only would it give him time to think, but he was also genuinely interested in the answer. It seemed almost inconceivable that they all happened to be in this room at the same time by chance alone.
Cleander sighed, slipping the coin dies into a pouch at his side. ‘Glabrio knew where you were. His men have had your old general friend’s villa under observation for months. As soon as Pompeianus came to meet you at the old palace of Hadrianus, Glabrio picked you up.’
‘I know the ruined villa well,’ the Praetorian cavalryman grinned. ‘Past commissions, you understand?’
Rufinus felt a jolt as if ice had slipped into his soul. Past commissions! Glabrio was one of the six men who had killed Dis! He knew the villa. He was a cavalryman and worked for Cleander against Perennis, just as he had worked for Paternus before that. As his baleful glare fell upon Glabrio, never in his life had Rufinus so much wanted to kill a man. But even a move forward might see the end of his brother, and that could not be allowed to happen. Rufinus had watched in horror all those years ago as the life had fled the eyes of his older brother, Lucius. How could he live with himself if he now had to repeat the process with Publius? No. Publius had to live, even if it meant Rufinus dying.
‘Is that why you tried to kill me in Carnuntum?’ he mused at Glabrio. ‘It is, isn’t it? That was nothing to do with our mission. After all, there was no need to kill us then – we’d done our job and incriminated ourselves. We were no real threat. That was just for you. Was it because you knew I was hunting you and your friends down already? Or was it because I killed Aulus Pollius in the boxing arena back in September. Was he… was he special to you?’
He realised how stupid it was to start goading Glabrio as a flash of anger crossed the decurion’s face and he loomed threateningly over Publius.
‘Enough with all this posturing,’ Cleander sighed. ‘Glabrio, step away. You two: take the boy.’
The other two Praetorians at the side of the chamber moved as the decurion backed off, one of them grabbing Publius and hustling him back into the passageway as the other kept him helpless at sword point.
‘I’m sorry, Gnaeus,’ Publius shouted from the far end, as Praetorians held him tight.
‘You don’t have to be sorry. You’ll be alright. I’ll make this right, but don’t give them a reason to hurt you.’
‘I have to thank you,’ Cleander said in an easy, friendly tone. ‘For bringing me the dies, I mean. They were a loose end I had fretted over. Glabrio was quite contrite over their disappearance. And now we have to move on, I think. The emperor has, with a heavy heart I admit, signed the order for your execution, Perennis. In deference to his affection for you and the need to see the Guard rise in public opinion, you will meet the headsman’s blade in a few hours, in the palace. No public affair and no outcry. A swift end and a quiet one. You will even be allowed to be interred in your family’s mausoleum. And you will not be alone there. I’m afraid the lady Domnia and little Septimus never reached the holdings of your family at Frusinum. They were set upon by bandits on the road. The local vigiles found the bodies. They are on their way back to Rome even now to be interred with you.’
Rufinus couldn’t turn. He didn’t want to see the prefect’s face, but he could hear a choked gasp of disbelief.
‘Which brings me to the last of the Perennis dynasty. Young Caelus is even now riding for Rome at haste.’
‘What?’ Rufinus frowned. ‘Why?’
‘In response to a summons from his emperor.’
Rufinus felt a lead weight settle in his chest. Caelus had been safe in Pannonia. But n
o man could deny a summons from the emperor. Caelus would be coming, and likely with little entourage.
Middle son dead. Wife and infant dead. The prefect himself to die during the night. Only Caelus would remain.
Cleander rolled his shoulders. ‘And that is where you come in, young Rufinus, I think. It would be unfortunate if Caelus Perennis were to reach Rome and keep his appointment with the emperor. Though he is condemned through association with his father and his death has already been decreed, there has been enough publicity now over the Perennis matter. This should be dealt with quietly, privately and out of the public eye for the good of all concerned. Caelus Perennis will stop at the appropriate stations on the Via Flaminia on his journey. I would think that Narnia is a good place to intercept him and put him down, don’t you?’
Rufinus blinked, trying to ignore more strangled gasps from behind him.
‘I’ll do nothing of the sort.’
Cleander smiled. ‘Of course you will. You brother is in our care for now. And I have damning evidence of your treachery in my pouch here.’ He patted the container at his belt. ‘With no context, these are damning evidence in many ways. Given that I have a receipt from the quaestor’s office in Carnuntum that quite clearly names you as the man who delivered the coin dies to the office there, the slightest slip from you and the emperor will be signing another execution order at very short notice.’
Rufinus felt the ground open up beneath him. The receipt! How could he have been so stupid?
Now the priority was not getting out of here, since Cleander was clearly planning to let him go, but what he would do when he did leave. With Publius their prisoner and instant damning evidence against Rufinus, he was hopelessly defenceless against Cleander.
‘What if I go to the emperor and tell him everything?’ he asked, knowing how feeble it sounded.
‘A fantastical tale, isn’t it? Then I would counter your unbelievable – and distinctly unprovable – tale with the physical evidence of your treason against the state. You would die publically and messily – you are less important than Perennis. And your brother here would die with you. Your father would be brought from whatever provincial rat nest he’s in and executed, as would your uncle. Your family’s remaining property would be impounded by the state and added to imperial land holdings.’
Praetorian: The Price of Treason Page 32