Blood Games (42 page)

Two of the Praetorian officers rose from the couches as Saint-Germain entered his blue-and-silver reception room. The third officer was busy refilling his wine cup and the Senator gave the foreigner a haughty stare, as if to inform him that a Roman noble was exempt from being courteous.

"I'm sorry to have kept you waiting,” Saint-Germain said with a pleasant, insincere smile. “My slave, I see, has extended you some of my poor hospitality. I hope you will do me the honor of taking your evening meal at my table."

"We won't be staying that long,” one of the standing Praetorians said with a nervous glance at his fellows.

"From the grim sound of your words, officer, I assume that you have a specific request to make of me?” Saint-Germain directed the full compelling force of his dark eyes toward the officer. “I regret, good Praetorian, that I don't know your name."

"Marcellus Octavius Publian, tribune,” he said stiffly. “The others are Crispus Terentius Galen, tribune, Phillipus Dudo, procurator junior. The Senator,” Marcellus Octavius Publian said with a badly concealed sneer, “is Regius Eugenius Este Bonaro. From a very distinguished house."

The Senator, who was no more than twenty-five and wearing a toga praetexta to which he had a dubious claim, gave the older soldier a quick frown, but did not pursue the matter. Instead, he turned his attention to Saint-Germain. “You. Foreigner."

Saint-Germain could sense the embarrassment felt by the soldiers, and decided to take advantage of it. “What will you give me the pleasure of doing for you?"

Phillipus Dudo, the procurator junior, cleared his throat in an apparent effort to direct attention away from the young, arrogant patrician. “We have received a report, Franciscus, that makes some alarming...allegations about you...."

Once again the Senator spoke. “It is said that you are here to spy upon Rome, that you are in the pay of various princes in countries with which the state is at war. In proof of this, it is said that you have in your household a Persian prince who is working with you to bring about—"

All four men stared at Saint-Germain, who had started to laugh. “Forgive me,” he said when he had mastered himself. “I don't mean to insult you, but the credulity that can be given to such ridiculous rumors...” He had to stop again because his laughter almost overcame him. “If that is what has brought you to Villa Ragoczy, I don't know whether to be complimented or baffled."

His visitors waited uneasily, and Phillipus found nerve enough to ask, “Does this mean that there is no truth to the accusation?"

"You mean that one of my slaves was once a Persian prince? Of course it's true. I've never made a secret of it.” He had never exploited the information, either, but it would not do to say so now.

"Then you
admit—
” the outraged young Senator began.

"I tell you that I have a slave who was once a Persian prince,” Saint-Germain repeated, more seriously. “My slave is a charioteer. You've probably seen him in races. Most of the time he races for the Reds’ faction, but occasionally the Whites use him, as well. Both racing corporations have offered to buy him, but I have not wanted to sell him."

"Why is that?” demanded the procurator junior.

"Because he wins,” Saint-Germain said patiently. It was the obvious reason. “He has made me a great deal of money over the years and there is no good reason why I should give that to someone else. When he retires from racing, he will train more of my charioteers and I will continue to have winners.” No Roman would find that at all suspicious.

"But a Persian prince?” the young Senator said with heavy sarcasm. “You keep him only for racing?"

"Considering that in the last two years he has earned me in the neighborhood of twenty million sesterces, I would be a greater fool than I am not to keep him.” He gave a wry chuckle. “I don't imagine my motives are any different than yours would be in my place."

Crispus Terentius Galen, who had not spoken, found his voice at last. “It's convenient to have it so, and it's a simple matter for us to verify your claims."

"Do so,” Saint-Germain said promptly. “By all means. You may examine my records as well as those of the Circus Maximus and the Circus of Caligula and Nero."

Phillipus nodded. “I don't think you'd lie about that. Yet for a foreigner like yourself to have such a slave..."

"I don't come from Persia, good Praetorian, I come from Dacia. I have little interest in what happens between royal Persian cousins. If you mean to suggest that my slave is something more than a slave, then why haven't I freed him, or sent him to Persia to curry favor with the king?” He asked this quite reasonably, looking from one officer to the other, ignoring the petulant young Senator.

"Your explanation is not entirely sufficient,” Senator Bonaro snapped, stung by Saint-Germain's treatment. “You stand accused of conspiracy—"

"Accused?” Saint-Germain's fine brows raised in polite disbelief. “Who accuses me?"

The Praetorians had the grace to be embarrassed. Publian stared up at the ceiling, saying, “The accusation against you is anonymous. That makes it very awkward, because you are a foreigner, and therefore not entitled to the same court proceedings as a citizen. We're willing to extend you every courtesy we can, of course, but since we can't examine the informant and have no real knowledge of his information or his motives, we must rely on you to show the charge to be false. We're not going to hold you for trial, not on such flimsy...material, but there are questions that must be answered."

"I see.” Saint-Germain looked away, eyes narrowing for an instant. “Very well, good Romans, I will tell you what I know of my Persian slave. He was bought by me at auction eight years ago. They said he had ability with horses and chariots, and I was seeking to expand my stables and teams. I bought him, rather cheaply because it was plain from his manner that he was defiant and unruly. This made me curious, because his manner was not that of one born to the collar. I own several ships, as I am sure you know, and I asked my captains to find out what they could of this charioteer. In time one of my captains found the answer. I learned from him that Kosrozd was the son of a man who had been executed for treason against the throne, and that his entire family had been sold into slavery. If I wanted to ingratiate myself with the courts of Persia, I would choose a different way than this. My slave, if he could return home, would be regarded as a fugitive and a traitor. His family is scattered, and none of them survive in positions of power. That is easily confirmed, good Senator,” he said quickly, anticipating the young man's objections. “You may do it just as I did six years ago."

The Praetorians nodded at each other, clearly relieved, and Crispus Terentius Galen spoke for them. “It's only a formality, naturally, but because the situation is awkward, we'll have to do that. There will be no restrictions on you, however, so long as you make no attempt to leave the empire or send...things...abroad until this matter has been resolved. If you feel that this imposes on you too much..."

"I have no wish and no reason to leave Rome at this time,” Saint-Germain assured him quickly, thinking that he had been very cleverly maneuvered into a difficult position. Should he object now, there would be more stringent restraints put on him, he was certain. “I will be happy to put any of my accounts and records you may wish to see at your disposal, so that we may be finished with this regrettable misunderstanding as quickly as possible. You have only to tell my slave Aumtehoutep what you require and he will provide it."

Phillipus coughed diffidently. “We are going to have to make one more request of you. We've been instructed to place a guard here while we're completing our investigation. It's not what we would like to do,” he added hurriedly after he licked his lips. “It is part of the instructions that have been given by the Emperor's son, and we are obliged to do as he orders."

This was definitely not usual procedure. “But why? Surely all this concern for one slave, though he was once a prince and belongs to a foreigner, is unmerited?” He wanted to challenge them, reminding them that this was against the letter of Roman law, but he held back. He would learn nothing more, once he opposed them; he needed information badly.

"Ordinarily,” Marcellus Octavius Publian mumbled, “it would be, but there are special circumstances here.” He was not happy saying so, and he looked to the others for support. It was very quiet in the blue-and-silver reception room.

The inward apprehension that had niggled in Saint-Germain's mind became more intense, demanding. He had assumed from the first that this investigation was the work of the Persian spy Led Arashnur, but there might be more to it. He was aware that quite a few noble Romans coveted his wealth and his property. An investigation like this could provide them with the opportunity they desired. He allowed his geniality to be tinged with irritation. “I am willing to oblige you, of course, but it might be easier for all of us if you were a little more direct with me, good Praetorians. And you as well, Senator.” He folded his arms and fixed a smile on his closed lips.

Phillipus stared at the wine cup in his hand as if he had just discovered it there. “As you know, one of your own captains was held on a matter of smuggling...” He looked at the Senator, who scowled but said nothing.

"Yes,” Saint-Germain prompted. “Kyrillos the Greek. He captained the
Gull of Byzantium
, a small merchant ship. I thought the matter was settled when I released Kyrillos from service, as I was asked to do.” Perhaps, his racing thoughts suggested, someone had bribed Kyrillos—the captain doubtless felt little loyalty to an employer he had seen twice, and who had relieved him of command. It was even possible that Kyrillos had needed no bribe to act against his former employer, and had filed an accusation in revenge.

"Technically, it was,” the procurator junior said, tugging at the strap that held his red caracalla. He wished now he had left the heavy cloak at the door, for now it seemed too warm and too tight at the neck.

"But that, it would appear, is not enough,” Saint-Germain said rather bitterly. “How am I to satisfy you, gentlemen? Tell me. I have a slave who was once a prince and you accuse me of trying to gain favor with him for some distant and unlikely day when he might return to his native land in victory. I dismiss a captain for smuggling, and now it seems that has made me more suspect than ever. What am I supposed to have done, that you deal with me this way?"

This time the uncomfortable silence was longer than before. Senator Regius Eugenius Este Bonaro occupied the time by filling his wine cup again. The sound of the liquid pouring was very loud.

"If you are not authorized to tell me,” Saint-Germain said quietly, “I will not press you for an explanation."

Phillipus muttered, “Under the circumstances..."

"
What
circumstances?” Saint-Germain demanded, pausing for an answer that none of the four volunteered. “That is also a mystery, is it? Or is there some other reason you are not at liberty to discuss the matter with me?” He made no attempt to disguise his sarcasm now.

The young Senator, flushed with wine as much as choler, choked on an oath, then burst out, “You're defying us."

At that, Saint-Germain managed to laugh. “If I were defying you, you would never have got through the door, Senator. I have borne with considerable patience this farrago of evasions and half-truths you've offered me. I'll do so until I find out what it is that you really want to know. But I will not tolerate being party to your deception. Let us be honest with each other this once: your true object in coming here has little to do with my Persian slave or my former captain. You have a different purpose that for some reason you are unwilling to reveal. For the moment I accept that, but I warn you right now, you, Senator, and you, good Praetorians, that I am not deceived.” He gave them all an ironic little bow. “Is there anything else?"

Phillipus looked at the far wall. “Franciscus, it was not our decision to investigate you. We are obeying the orders of our superiors."

"And have no will or judgment of your own,” Saint-Germain said with his most friendly smile.

The Praetorians stiffened, and Marcellus Octavius Publian put one hand to the hilt of his sword. “You will not make things easier for yourself if you speak so, Franciscus."

"Nor will I make them easier for you,” Saint-Germain said quietly. “If you had told me at the first what it is you truly want, I would have done my utmost to cooperate with you, but as it stands..."—he lifted his hands helplessly—"you have chosen my course for me, gentlemen, and I must follow it as best I can. When you decide to be frank with me, we may talk again. Not until.” Suddenly there was a subtle change in him, as if he had grown taller or his soft voice was louder. The four Romans moved back slightly, each in his own way, for it seemed that Saint-Germain had become closer, more menacing, to each of them, though none could say how. “As long as you insist upon this deception, whatever it is, I will neither assist nor hinder you. If you want my aid and my interest, you must be prepared to be honest with me. Believe that.” He turned on his booted heel and strode quickly out the door, calling as he went, “Aumtehoutep! Get my shipping records for these men!” Without stopping to see that it was done, he went across the garden and into his private wing.

The reception room was silent for some little time; then Phillipus sighed. “I warned you that this was not the way to approach him. Our informant was mistaken about dealing with this Franciscus. He may,” he added darkly, “have been mistaken about other things."

"Nonsense,” snapped the young Senator. “There is no reason to think that the allegations are in error."

"There is also no reason to think that they are true,” Crispus Terentius Galen observed dryly. “I'm afraid that I must agree with Octavius. I think we've blundered, and blundered badly. It was stupid of us to force the issue so soon."

The other two soldiers nodded glumly. The Senator poured himself more wine.

They had not spoken to each other again when Aumtehoutep arrived some little time later with a box under his arm. He paused to look at the men. “My master has asked that I bring these to you,” he said in his most neutral voice which only his close associates would recognize as being his most condemning.