Praetorian (45 page)

‘If we don’t secure that grain, it won’t matter where they are.’

The imperial secretary struggled to make a decision. Then he nodded. ‘All right, but you can take twenty men. No more. You’ll need one of their officers.’ Narcissus thought quickly. ‘Centurion Plautus can be trusted.’ The imperial secretary looked up at the sky above the city. The light was fading fast and a pastel red hue stained the horizon. ‘You’d better go quickly. And take Septimus with you. Leave your kit here.’ Narcissus wagged his finger at Cato and Macro. ‘You’d better be right about this. If anything happens to the Emperor because there weren’t enough men to guard him properly then it’ll be on your head, Cato.’

‘Thanks for the kind words of encouragement,’ Cato replied sourly. ‘There’s one more thing. How are we going to get out of the palace without raising the alarm?’

Narcissus could not help a small smile. ‘There’s a way. You didn’t think the emperors would have built a place like this without a secret exit, did you? It comes out close to the Great Circus. Caligula used it from time to time when he wanted to go to the races incognito. It was kept a secret from the Praetorians in case they tried to keep an eye on him during his peregrinations.’

Macro chuckled. ‘Didn’t do him much good then.’

‘You’d better take us to this passage,’ said Cato. ‘And have your Germans meet us there, armed and ready.’ He nodded towards the sunset. ‘I think we’re in for a long and bloody night. Only the gods know what the dawn will bring.’

‘N
ext time keep a civil tongue in your head.’ Cato smiled pleasantly as he gently prodded the warehouse guard under the chin with the tip of his sword.

The man looked confused, as well as scared. ‘Sorry, sir. I-I don’t understand.’

‘You don’t remember me, do you?’ Cato frowned, robbed of his brief moment of pleasure. There was nothing to be gained from taking a small revenge on a man who had completely forgotten his offence in the first place. ‘Never mind. Tell me, has anyone entered or left the warehouse since you have been on watch?’

The man glanced round at the group of big men who had stolen up on him in soft-soled boots while he dozed and then picked him up and pinned him to the wall of the warehouse of Gaius Frontinus. He swallowed nervously as his eyes turned back to Cato.

‘Best to be honest, if you want to live,’ Cato said softly, pricking the man’s skin slightly.

‘Just one m-man, sir.’

‘Reckon that’s Cestius,’ said Macro at Cato’s side. ‘What did he look like? Big bloke? Small?’

The watchman looked Cato up and down. ‘About your size, sir.’

‘Not Cestius then.’ Cato eased his sword off the man’s neck. ‘How long ago?’

‘No more than an hour, I’d say.’

‘And no one else?’

‘Yes, sir. I’m sure of it.’

‘Right, then you’re coming with us. Macro, open the gate.’

Macro nodded and stepped over to the heavy iron bolt and eased it free of the receiver as quietly as he could. Thanks to the curfew
there was no one on the wharf but Cato was wary of alerting anyone inside the warehouse to their presence. Macro eased the gate open just wide enough to admit himself and the rest of the men in single file. Cato allowed Septimus, the centurion and five of his Germans to pass through before he nudged the watchman towards the gap.

‘Don’t make a noise or try to get away from me, understand?’

The man nodded vigorously and Cato steered him inside. The warehouse yard looked just as deserted as it had a few days earlier. A crescent moon provided some dim illumination and by its light the centurion and his men quickly searched each of the storerooms. They were as deserted as before. There was no sign of any life.

‘Look for a hatch or some kind of drain cover,’ Cato ordered. ‘It has to be here somewhere.’

The centurion and his men searched again before the officer reported back to Cato. ‘Nothing.’

‘Damn.’ Cato released his grip on the watchman. ‘Have one of your Germans keep an eye on him. He’s not to utter a sound. If he tries to raise the alarm, or makes a run for it, tell your man to cut his throat.’

The centurion nodded and called one of the bodyguards over to issue his orders in a mixture of broken Latin and their own harsh guttural tongue. Cato turned to Macro and Septimus.

‘There has to be some kind of access to the sewer system here. We have to look until we find it.’

‘Or we don’t,’ said Macro. ‘Or we run out of time. Face it, Cato, this is a long shot.’

‘No it isn’t,’ Cato replied determinedly. ‘It has to be here. Keep searching.’

He strode away from the others and began a circuit of the yard, examining the ground under the carts carefully. Septimus came up to him and spoke in a hushed tone. ‘What if there’s a false wall?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Supposing Cestius and his men knocked through a wall into a neighbouring warehouse, and then made up a false wall to disguise the gap?’

‘No, that wouldn’t work. If they did that they’d have had to
have hired another warehouse and we’d know about it. Besides, that wouldn’t explain the stink of Cestius and his men.’

‘You’re assuming that it was to do with the sewer. There could be other explanations.’

Cato stopped to look at Narcissus’s agent. ‘Such as?’

Septimus tried to think for a moment and then shrugged.

Cato nodded. ‘Quite. Now, if you’ve finished, let’s continue the search.’

Septimus went off in the opposite direction and Cato continued to work his way round the yard. There was no sign of any disguised hole on the front wall and he was starting to edge his way along the inside wall when the pile of sacking in the far corner caught his eye. A faint ray of hope glimmered in Cato’s heart and he made his way over to it. He knelt down and began to pull the sacks aside. Macro joined him.

‘Having fun?’

‘Just give me a hand.’

They worked methodically, clearing them away, and then, just before they reached the angle in the wall, Macro paused, looked down, and hurriedly pulled away several more sacks. ‘Over here. I’ve found it.’

Cato dropped the sack in his hand and went to crouch by his friend. There amid the cobbles at Macro’s feet was a small wooden handle. Macro tried to clear some more of the sacking away but it would not move. Grumbling, he grasped a loose corner and pulled hard. There was a tearing sound, a length of the coarse material ripped free and Macro stumbled back with a curse.

Cato knelt down for a closer look. ‘Clever. They’ve stuck the sacking down on to the hatch to help conceal it.’

He grasped the handle and gave it an experimental pull. The hatch was heavy and Cato applied his other hand. An area four feet square began to rise. Cato turned to Macro. ‘Help me.’

With Macro helping at the corner, they raised the hatch and eased it back against the rear wall of the courtyard. A wide ladder fixed to one side led down into pitch blackness. There was no sign of movement, but there was a faint sound of trickling water, and a waft of foul air.

Cato turned and called as loudly as he dared, ‘Septimus, over here. Plautus, bring your men.’

The others padded over and stood looking down at the opening. Cato gave the order for the torches to be lit. Plautus took out the tinder box from his side bag and began to strike sparks on to the thin sheets of charred linen. As soon as the first glimmer of a flame appeared he fed it with some dried moss until the flame was large enough to use. He gestured to one of the men carrying the bundled torches. ‘Let me have one.’

He carefully dipped the tallow-impregnated cloth on the end of the wooden shaft towards the flame and held it there until the torch produced bright yellow tongues of light. Plautus rose to his feet.

‘Let’s light the rest of them.’

One by one the torches flared into life and Cato took one. He ordered Plautus to leave the warehouse guard gagged and bound and then cautiously lowered himself on to the top rung of the ladder. He descended a few more rungs and by the light of the flame he could see that Cestius and his men had shored up the sides of the shaft with stout timbers. Ten feet down, the shaft opened up and Cato held the torch out to examine his surroundings. Old brickwork curved away on both sides and below there was a dull gleam of moving water. The ladder descended another six feet and then he reached the bottom. He was standing on a narrow paved walkway to one side of a small tunnel. It was just possible to stand erect under the curved ceiling. At his side a glistening flow headed steadily towards the Great Sewer. The air was thick with the stench of human waste and Cato wrinkled his nose in disgust.

‘What can you see?’ Macro called down.

‘There’s a tunnel. Leads towards the sewer in one direction. The other seems to head towards the Aventine district. Bring the rest of the men down. I think we’ve found what we’re looking for.’

As the other men descended the ladder, Cato made his way a short distance upstream, examining the walls and the walkway. Most of the brickwork was covered in a layer of slime, but there were extensive patches that had been scraped away, and the same was true of the walkway which looked as if it had been heavily used recently enough for the stone to be dry to the touch, with
scant evidence of new growth. Behind him the sounds of the Germans muttering in disgusted tones filled the tunnel.

‘Nice spot you’ve discovered here,’ Macro grumbled as he and Septimus joined Cato. ‘Very fragrant.’

Cato ignored the comment and stared along the tunnel. There was no movement within the loom cast by his torch, aside from the flow of sewage and the scampering of a pair of rats as they scuttled away from the men who had invaded their realm. There was a splash and a scrabbling sound from the dark as they ran off.

‘Do you think any of them are still here?’ Septimus asked nervously as he stared into the gloom.

‘One at least.’ Cato stood up. He turned back to Centurion Plautus. ‘Tell your men that we go on from here in silence. Not a sound, understand?’

‘Yes, sir.’

Cato could not help a slight smile at being addressed as a superior. Narcissus had told the centurion to obey him and Macro when he had briefly introduced the two Praetorians, dressed in plain white tunics and carrying no sign of their rank. Now it seemed that Plautus recognised and accepted Cato’s authority without having to be told anything of his real identity and rank. He glanced back and saw that all the men were ready to follow him. The flickering glow of the torches illuminated the damp walls of the tunnels and the flow of sewage gleamed as turds and rubbish drifted by. Cato held his torch forward at an angle and then gestured with his spare hand. ‘Let’s go,’ he called softly.

He crept forward, leaning over slightly as the roof of the tunnel became lower and the flame licked off the brickwork overhead. The sewer led straight for fifty paces before bending to the right. Cato calculated that they were nearly at the edge of the warehouse area and heading in the direction of the Aventine district, one of the poorest districts of the city. Another hundred paces on they came to a junction where a smaller tunnel, no more than four feet high, led off to the left. Cato raised his hand to halt the men behind him then examined the tunnel. There was no walkway and no sign of disturbance in the growths on either side of the tunnel. He waved the men forward again.

They passed more junctions but there was no sign that Cestius and his men had deviated from the walkway. After quarter of a mile of slow progress the sewer opened up into a chamber. Two large tunnels entered from each side, while directly opposite was a small cataract. Filthy foam bubbled across the surface of the chamber and the churned-up sewage made the stench more overpowering than ever. One of the Germans coughed violently and then bent over and threw up.

‘That’s going to help.’ Macro frowned. He looked round. ‘What now? Which way do we go? Left or right?’

Cato glanced from side to side for a moment before he consulted Septimus. ‘I reckon we must be close to the Aventine.’

The imperial agent thought for a moment and then nodded. ‘I think you’re right.’

‘In which case, the left tunnel would take us towards the Palatine, and the other one into the Aventine district. Where would Cestius be most likely to hide the grain?’

‘I doubt he would want to hide it near the palace. There are several secret tunnels beneath it, as you know. He wouldn’t want to risk running into any of those. The other tunnel is our best bet.’

‘I agree. Let’s have a look. Macro, you come too.’ Cato turned to the centurion. ‘Stay here while we scout ahead. I’ll send Septimus back for you if it looks like we’re on the right track.’

‘Yes, sir. But don’t be too long, eh?’ Plautus sniffed. ‘The air here is fucking horrible.’

Cato grinned and clapped the man on the shoulder before he entered the right tunnel, followed by Macro and Septimus. Thankfully there was another walkway on the side that saved them from having to wade upstream through the flow of sewage. Cato kept his torch up and paused every so often to examine the sides of the tunnel and the paving stones at their feet. They had gone no further than fifty feet when he stopped and turned round to face the others.

‘This isn’t the right way.’