XXVI – Encounters unexpected and paths to be forged
The civilised world turned out to be noisy, busy, smelly and headache inducing, especially after so many days at sea.
The journey had, in fact, taken only thirteen days due to a constant improvement in conditions as the sky cleared with every mile that slid beneath those great painted wings. Rufinus had negotiated and secured three hundred denarii off the price with the loss of the two donkeys and the agreement that he and Luca would look after the animals, all the animals, which included two more horses belonging to a trader from Axiopolis who was heading to Athens with a small group of dull and squint-eyed men to set up a new factor for his business.
Fortunately for Rufinus and his companions, the businessman was far too occupied and self-absorbed to take any interest in the strange party with whom he shared the ship, and at every night’s stopover they disappeared to work on facts and figures. Rufinus’ own condition continued to improve throughout the journey too, and by the time the ship had round the southern point of Euboea he was exercising every morning, building his muscle tone once more. He could lift, carry and jump. He’d even planned to challenge a fellow on the crew who fancied himself a boxer but, having mentioned the fact at the evening meal, the things Senova called him for the idea changed his mind. Reluctantly, he acknowledged that he probably wasn’t quite ready to start fighting again. Soon, though.
There had been tense times over those thirteen days, too. Numerous times Rufinus had forgotten to answer to his pseudonym, and Senova had soon told everyone he had only partial hearing to help cover for the repeated oversight. Inevitably, the crew had enquired as to their passengers’ lives during those evening socials on layovers, and Rufinus had developed a somewhat complex history for Aulus Junius Dionysus who, as far as the crew of the Pinnata were concerned, was a citizen from Hispania who had suffered critical money troubles years ago and had sold himself into a gladiator school to pay his debts. He had ended up a free man, and with a small fund to his name, in Moesia, where he had met his lady friend and enticed her to return west with him. Every time he embellished and his story became slightly more fanciful, he would receive a surreptitious kick under the table from Senova. He thought he’d done quite well, since he needed to explain away his foreignness and excessive scarring somehow. Senova had been smooth and calm, revealing a Pannonian origin and leaving her home in Singidunum when her man – a soldier – had been killed, seeking a new start somewhere else. Luca had played their slave well, naturally.
It was a time of healing for Rufinus in more ways than one. His ribs stopped hurting, his arm became strong again and his muscles began to return to their former condition. But also, being ever further from the reach of Clodius Albinus and his cronies and the province that had almost broken him brought an increasing lightness to his heart. And though, at night and when alone, Rufinus still suffered pangs of worry and even panic about Publius and what lay ahead in Rome, Senova seemed to have some magical ability to wash away his cares with a touch. Their relationship became ever closer, and Rufinus had found himself thinking of Luca as perhaps something of a pet. Not a child of his, but at least someone whose welfare he cared about.
All in all, things had improved immeasurably for Dionysus and his woman Septimia Apera as they reached Greece. Civilization.
Rufinus had never travelled to the east before, spending his time in Hispania or Italia or on the northern borders. He had always thought of it as an exotic place, a hotbed of learning and thought and invention. His father, the sour old bastard, always called it a degenerate hole, but his opinion was always to be taken with scepticism, especially since he’d never been there either.
‘Athens is not what I thought it would be,’ he said to Senova as they leaned on the rail of the ship and watched the great port seething with life sliding toward them. Senova’s eyes were wide with wonder, but to Rufinus it looked like any great city’s port, not the marble land of wonders he had expected.
‘That is not Athens,’ noted the merchant, standing impatiently nearby.
‘What?’
‘That is Piraeus, the port of Athens. A little like Ostia and Rome from what I understand. The two are connected by long walls. It’s about five miles to the city from the port.’
Rufinus nodded. He recalled hearing about Piraeus and the walls somewhere. One thing was certain, though: it was busy. Busier than any port he had ever seen excepting perhaps Ostia. Ships of every size, type and nationality sat at the jetties, manoeuvred around the harbour and slid in and out between the great, reaching, welcoming moles. The sailors did all those arcane things sailors did with ropes and sails and bits of wood, and the merchant ship slipped into the calmer waters of the harbour with ease, passing a Cretan ship in the process, whose crew shouted greetings and lewd suggestions about what might await the new arrivals in port.
‘Are we going into Athens?’ Senova asked quietly.
‘Not sure,’ Rufinus replied. ‘I’d certainly like to see it, but what matters more is securing the next stage and heading back to Rome. There should be plenty of opportunity for that. There’ll be loads of ships between those two cities. Before we decide, I think we should visit the port office and see what we can find out.’
Senova nodded and the pair fell silent as they watched Piraeus closing on them.
The Pinnata ran across the jutting ends of numerous jetties and began to turn more sharply than Rufinus had anticipated, the passengers holding on to the rail as the spray hurtled up into the blue. The praetorian’s breath caught in his throat. The jetty for which they were making sat neatly between two ships that made him nervous on sight: a trireme bearing the same sails they had seen on the local fleet on the Danuvius, and a great warship with sail markings Rufinus had seen before plenty of times – the insignia of the Misenum fleet back in Italia.
He tried to steady his pulse. Athens was one of the great cities of the empire and a hub for trade and politics and the military. Warships from both east and west would have a thousand reasons to be here. Still, he found himself sweating nervously as the merchant vessel slid into its assigned position between the two military ships.
He waited impatiently, nervously, near the bow with the others while the horses were brought up, along with all the gear, and the ramp was run out to the jetty. Sailors tied ropes and secured fittings and it seemed to have been an age when the ship was finally considered docked and the passengers were allowed to disembark.
Unlike small Callatis in Moesia, this place was not so easy-going with arrivals and departures, and Rufinus could see soldiers on duty in various positions around the port, and virtual cohorts of clerks and functionaries strutting around the place on missions of word and parchment. A man in a neat tunic and cloak with oiled, curly hair and a face like drooping candle wax waited on the dock with a tablet and two assistants. As Rufinus skittered down the ramp, leading Atalanta and with the others following on close behind, the official stepped forward, his jowls wobbling around beside his fat, fleshy lips.
‘Place of origin?’
Rufinus frowned. Presumably the man meant where they boarded the ship rather than his home. ‘Callatis, Moesia Inferior,’ he announced. The man nodded, jowls rolling again, and scratched something on his tablet.
‘Size of party?’
‘Two adults, one boy, two horses and a dog.’
The man ignored the details and scratched ‘III’ on his tablet.
‘Names?’
‘Aulus Junius Dionysus and Septimia Apera, and the boy is our slave, Luca. I don’t suppose you want the names of the horses and dog?’
The man gave him a long-suffering look and scratched slowly away. Rufinus watched impatiently, the merchant standing tapping his foot and waiting behind them on the ramp as the official made a mistake and had to flatten the wax and start again. Some sort of commotion was going on aboard the great warship to their right and Rufinus was starting to feel distinctly nervous standing here and waiting.
/> ‘Is that it?’ he asked as the man was still finishing his writing.
‘I have to check a few things,’ the man said in a bored, officious voice.
‘Go on, then.’
‘Have you travelled through Armenia, Parthia or Arabia?’
Rufinus rolled his eyes. ‘Dacia and Moesia, and no, we have not brought back plague.’
‘Have you…’
‘Hold,’ called a voice from above and Rufinus’ blood chilled as he looked up to see a man in a senior naval officer’s uniform at the rail of the warship.
‘Yes?’ the official replied.
‘Send that man and his party up here.’
‘That is most irregular,’ muttered Jowly.
‘Nevertheless, you will comply,’ the officer said, coldly, and then turned to Rufinus. ‘Master Dionysus, please be so good as to come aboard the Fortuna with your companions. You can leave the horses and dog, though.’
The officer indicated a steep ramp up to the warship. Rufinus felt panic gripping him. In a way, there were several things he should be grateful for. It could have been the Moesian ship that had summoned him, which would have made unpleasant sense, after all, and the fact that the Italian vessel was named for that same goddess of luck as had been sheltering him all the way across Dacia commended it somewhat. Still, recognition from an official or military source of any sort boded ill.
Senova shuffled up close to him, with Luca dogging their steps and Acheron at heel too, the official’s assistants holding the two horses’ reins uncomfortably as he moved on to the impatient merchant.
‘What is this?’ Senova hissed.
‘I wish I knew.’
‘How is your arm now?’
‘If you’re about to suggest I take on a warship full of sailors and marines, I think you must have been drinking that medicine from the mountains, or maybe Cassius’ fruit spirit.’
‘What if it’s Cleander?’
Rufinus shook his head. ‘The chamberlain won’t leave Rome.’
They climbed the ramp with trepidation and in a sweat, and the officer bowed his head as they reached the top. ‘Master Dionysus, and the charming Septimia Apera. I cannot allow the dog on my ship, though.’
‘No dog, no us,’ Rufinus said flatly, and the two men regarded one another silently, engaged in a battle of wills.
‘Very well, but it must remain under control. Follow me.’
The man led them aft to where a sheltered cabin sat, a luxury missing from most warships and only feasible because of the sheer size of the Fortuna, with its five rows of oars. The door stood open and the interior was dim. Rufinus and Senova shared a worried look as the officer stopped beside the door and gestured for them to enter. Rufinus moved inside first, his form blocking out the light from the doorway, the others moving forward behind him,
The room was done out as a sleeping chamber and office combined, and its sole occupant sat at the desk, peering toward the door in an oppressive gloom. Rufinus could just make out a curled beard and similarly curly hair. He drew an involuntary sharp breath for a moment, for the figure looked worryingly like Clodius Albinus. Then Rufinus stepped aside and the light from the doorway illuminated the room a little. Rufinus stared in astonishment.
‘Interesting,’ Lucius Septimius Severus, Governor of Gallia Lugdunensis, said quietly, rising from his seat. ‘And most curious.’
Senova slipped into the room, Luca and Acheron completing the group. Severus reached behind him and opened the shutters of the window, raising the light level considerably. Rufinus was still staring.
‘Here am I attending to a little administrative work in my cabin and I hear, against all expectations, my daughter disembarking the ship beside me. I have my man send for the new arrival in curiosity and, though I don’t recognise the woman using my daughter’s name, I find her companion to be most unexpected. Guardsman Rustius Rufinus. And under an assumed name also. Fascinating.’
Rufinus was shaking his head. ‘I… this is not how it looks.’
‘I am intrigued as to how you think it looks, Rufinus.’
‘Well, travelling under a pseudonym, Governor, and using your daughter’s name.’ He shot an accusing look at Senova, who replied with a silent ‘how was I to know’ glare.
‘I believe I am watching the Fates at work, Rufinus. I had heard that you had something of a run-in with that oily snake Cleander. Did he not send you into exile, I hear?’
Rufinus felt a strange easing of tension. His few encounters with this man over the years had led him to the conclusion that Severus was perhaps a dangerous man, but a very forthright and straight one. Not one of the serpents of the court. He had no love for Cleander, and that Rufinus knew, and he suddenly had a flash of memory from Dacia. Senova had told him that Severus hated Clodius Albinus, words that had come directly from the mouth of the man’s daughter.
‘The enemy of my enemy,’ Rufinus said quietly.
‘I’m sorry?’
Rufinus shook his head. ‘Thinking aloud, Governor. About trust, and honesty, and where people fit in the great game of Roman politics.’
‘A complex subject, and one that is more suited to an evening of wine than a chance meeting on a warship, Rufinus.’
‘But that’s just it, Governor,’ Rufinus said his eyes lighting up. ‘You’re wrong. This isn’t the work of the Fates. This is Fortuna pure and simple. She has watched over me for months in a hostile land and now she comes to me in the form of a ship and bearing an unexpected opportunity.’
‘You speak in riddles, Rufinus,’ Severus frowned.
‘I had begun to think there was no one left to trust. That only my friend in the frumentarii and General Pompeianus could be relied upon. But I was wrong. There is you.’
‘The way you are talking sounds worryingly treasonous, Rufinus.’
‘No, Governor. No, it isn’t. Far from it, in fact. Can we talk privately?’
Severus frowned for a while and finally nodded. ‘Apter?’
The officer outside ducked his head though the door. ‘Governor?’
‘Close the door and move your crewmen out of earshot of the cabin, if you would.’
The man did not look happy, but saluted and retreated, shutting the door and calling to the few sailors working nearby. Once silence reined, Severus lit two lamps and closed the window shutters once more, plunging the cabin into a golden gloom.
‘Note the unprecedented trust I am placing in you, Rufinus. I should, by rights, have a number of lictors around me, ready with their axes in case of trouble.’
Rufinus nodded. ‘Governor, I have been in Dacia and I have such a story to tell you...’
Severus sat in the lamp light and listened to Rufinus’ tale in rapt silence, never interrupting, reaching out after a while and pouring wine for them all, gesturing for Senova to be seated. Periodically he nodded, or winced, or shook his head. Finally, Rufinus slumped back in his chair.
‘So we took ship from Callatis thirteen days ago. Even though there was no indication that the local governor was part of Albinus’ web and that we were being sought, we thought it best to use assumed names. I used the identity of an old acquaintance in Rome, now dead, and Senova here took your daughter’s name. And here we are, on the way back to Rome to try and confront Cleander with the information, get Publius freed and reinstate myself in the Guard. I remember you, Governor, from meetings at Pompeianus’ villa. You always seemed to have the right interests at heart. I hope I am not mistaken.’
Severus nodded again and took a sip of his wine. The way he threw back his head to drink, combined with that impressive hair and beard gave the impression that the man ought to have let out a roar. Rufinus frowned. Cleander: a snake. Commodus: a peacock: Albinus: a weasel. Niger: a dog on its back.
Severus: a lion.
There was something about that impression that stuck in Rufinus’ mind and he couldn’t shake it.
Finally, the governor leaned forward on the table and steepled his fingers. ‘Yo
u are in a very strange position, my young praetorian friend. You know potentially empire-shaking secrets, yet with no evidence. You have unsolvable problems to solve, and seem to have navigated the most incredibly dangerous currents and yet come out floating and with a following wind. And you seem to have failed to note specifically in your precis the one factor that I would consider of prime import.’
‘Governor?’
‘You’re dead, Rufinus. I suspect you will be surprised how many options that opens up if you work things out correctly.’
It was the turn of Rufinus’ eyes to narrow now. ‘Sir?’
‘The men who you exposed are not hunting you, because you are already dead. Any trouble still hanging over you in Rome will dissipate. Even your brother, I think, will go free.’
‘Free?’
‘Cleander is a methodical man. Your father is busy lobbying for position back in Rome. I’ve met the man. He has your ambition but not half your wit. Cleander has no need to keep your brother if you are out of them picture. Keeping him as a ward of the court is a very expensive business and now totally unnecessary. Equally, disposing of him would risk raising questions as to his fate. No. Cleander’s simplest choice is to send Publius back to your father. That way your father will stamp on any resistance from your brother, because he won’t want anything to interfere with his social climbing. No, Rufinus, I think your death will have simplified things in Rome.’
Rufinus boggled. It was so clear. The man was right. A carefully-worded letter to Vibius Cestius and he could check, but it seemed so likely. As an unnamed corpse, a ghost even, Rufinus was safe and his friends and family would be safe too.
He felt a sudden jolt of responsibility.
‘But I cannot simply hide and let the world go on around me, Governor. Pompeianus was right: once you start to play the game, you can’t stop. Even when you win, you just have to play the next match. Dead or not, my duty is to the emperor, and that duty is to find a way to bring down Cleander. And also to find a way to stop Clodius Albinus preparing to take the throne. I cannot imagine Rome under his rule.’
Eagles of Dacia Page 39