The Emperor's Silver: Agent of Rome 5 (34 page)

‘Very well.’ The younger man climbed down. The older driver muttered an oath before obeying. Cassius indicated that Indavara should watch him, then hurried around to the rear of the cart and clambered on. The reed bundles were tightly packed but only two deep. He had only just picked one up when one of the legionaries gave a shout.

‘You! I know you.’

Cassius let go of the bundle and watched as the little driver desperately sought an escape route. Unfortunately for him, he was trapped between the cart and Indavara. As he tried to dive under the vehicle, Indavara grabbed his tunic and hauled him up.

The vocal legionary said something to his compatriot, then ran alongside the cart. Indavara was so taken by surprise that, before he could react, the legionary had hurled the driver into the gutter. The soldier’s sword rasped as he wrenched it from the scabbard.

‘What are you doing?’ demanded Indavara.

The startled horse was jolting the cart but Cassius made a safe landing and arrived in time to see the legionary raise his weapon.

‘Just the flat of the blade,’ he hissed. ‘Which is half what he deserves.’

‘Legionary, sheathe your weapon.’

When the soldier ignored him, Cassius turned immediately to Indavara.

The bodyguard chopped his hand into the legionary’s shoulder; a light blow but aimed at a sensitive point. The soldier’s blade clattered into a puddle beside the wide-eyed driver.

The soldier spun around, fists already clenched. He was a big man, with broad shoulders and thickly muscled arms.

‘No,’ warned Cassius. ‘Don’t.’

Too late. The legionary shoved Indavara in the chest, propelling him back into the cart. As he bounced back towards him, the legionary swung an arcing punch into the bodyguard’s head just above the ear. The thump was so loud that Cassius thought he might go down.

Indavara staggered, blinking, mouth open.

The soldier was still admiring his handiwork when the bodyguard rushed him.

He hit his midriff, knocking him back two yards and into a wall.

The driver caught a boot on his arm and yelped as he crawled away.

Before the soldier could strike back, Indavara had buried a heavy punch in his gut. The legionary would have doubled over were it not for the fact that Indavara’s hands were now around his throat, pushing his head back against the bricks.

As his face turned from brown to red, the soldier waved at his friend. ‘Wolfie, help!’

‘Wolfie’ didn’t look all that keen on helping. Though also tall, he was as slender as Cassius. ‘You shouldn’t have hit him, Scato.’

Indavara was snarling, spit running down his chin as he tightened his grip.

‘All right, that’s enough,’ said Cassius.

Scato bucked, trying to prise himself off the wall, which only made Indavara squeeze harder. The legionary’s face was now almost purple. He tried to speak but all that came out was a strangled cry.

‘Indavara!’

Cassius grabbed his right arm and tried to pull it away but the bodyguard had locked it in place.

Cassius moved close to his face, which was trembling as his teeth ground together. ‘Indavara, you’ll kill him!’

Scato’s eyelids were fluttering.

‘Stop him,’ yelled the other soldier.

Cassius reached up and gripped one of Indavara’s wrists with both hands. With this purchase he was able to take some of the pressure off.

The gasping breath that came from Scato seemed somehow to snap Indavara out of the rage. He instantly let go; and Cassius had to hold Scato up as the legionary slumped against the wall.

Indavara backed away.

Wolfie finally came to aid his friend.

Chest heaving, fingers shaking, Indavara looked around for a moment, then walked back along the street.

Cassius had no intention of trying to stop him. ‘By the gods.’

The little driver was still on the ground. As he picked himself up, Cassius put a hand on his sword. ‘Don’t even think about running.’

‘I won’t.’

Cassius nodded at Scato. ‘Why did he go for you?’

‘I … er … I know his sister, sir. If you know what I mean.’

‘That’s why you …’

‘Yes,’ admitted the Syrian.

Scato was making a strange sound as he breathed, as if something was catching in his throat. Cassius looked at his neck. Every one of Indavara’s fingers had left its mark.

Cassius had been through two canteens of water but still couldn’t get rid of the headache. Cosmas stood beside him in the courtyard, tapping his thumbs impatiently against his belt.

‘You have numerous other things you should be doing as well, I suppose?’

‘Yes, sir.’

Having taken Indavara back to the tower and left him with Simo, Cassius had enlisted Cosmas to escort him to the basilica. Chief Centurion Nemetorius had heard about the incident with his soldier remarkably quickly and summoned Cassius for a meeting. Though it would be difficult to defend Indavara’s actions, Scato was also to blame; and Cassius wanted to clear the matter up swiftly. Diadromes was also supposed to be attending but neither had yet arrived.

‘May I go now, sir?’ asked Cosmas. He pointed to the arch on the opposite side of the courtyard, where Nemetorius had just appeared, accompanied again by his two legionaries. Cassius would have preferred not to have been so outnumbered but there was little a man of Cosmas’s rank could do.

‘What about the deputy magistrate?’

‘I’m sure he won’t be too much longer. I will collate anything useful that came in from the inspections and come to the tower tomorrow.’

As the sergeant departed, Cassius turned his attention to Nemetorius. The chief centurion was marching towards him at a prodigious pace, the rhythmic tap of his boots echoing across the courtyard. Cassius wished he had his own uniform on but he’d changed into civilian attire to cross the city. With Cosmas gone, he now faced the prospect of braving the streets alone.

Gods, what a day. Where is bloody Diadromes?

Nemetorius held up a hand and his men halted some distance away. The centurion didn’t come particularly close himself; perhaps because that would accentuate Cassius’s considerable height advantage.

‘Well, Crispian?’

‘Chief Centurion?’

‘I’ve seen him. The man’s windpipe has been crushed. He can hardly speak.’

‘I am sorry to hear that.’

‘Where is he? Your man?’

‘At the residence we are using.’

‘I will speak with him.’

‘I don’t think that’s necessary. Shall I describe to you what happened?’

‘The poor bastard’s already told me.’

‘So he
can
speak?’

Nemetorius’ glare instantly made Cassius regret his reply. He elected to deliver his version of events anyway. ‘We had stopped these two cart drivers. I was questioning one of them when Legionary Scato grabbed him and threw him to the ground. He then pulled out his sword and was about to strike him. I instructed my bodyguard to disarm him, which he did without causing harm. Scato took exception to this and struck not only the first blow but the second. At which point my bodyguard retaliated.’

‘By almost killing him. The other legionary told me that if you hadn’t intervened he would have. Several witnesses attest to the same.’

‘I agree. He went too far. But I gave Scato two orders: firstly not to attack the suspect; secondly not to react. He disobeyed both. He caused this incident.’

‘Do you expect me to ignore an assault on a soldier under my command?’

‘I have.’

‘That brawling thug of yours is no soldier.’

‘Actually he is. He has taken the oath and is on the books of the Fourth Legion under Prefect Venator, as am I.’

‘Even better. I am the senior officer here. I have the right to punish a soldier committing an offence within my jurisdiction and I shall.’

‘The question of jurisdiction is far from clear. My bodyguard and I are operating directly under orders from Marshal Marcellinus.’

‘So you think yourself free to do as you please?’

Cassius was surprised by how calm Nemetorius was remaining. He wondered how his reaction might have differed without the fearsome influence of Marcellinus and the more shadowy presence of the Service to consider.

‘Not at all. Refer this matter to higher authority if you wish, but that would mean the governor or the marshal himself.’

‘The magistrate—’

‘Is not of sufficient rank, as I think we both know.’ Cassius held up both his hands. ‘Chief Centurion …’

Nemetorius had advanced and it seemed as if his temper was finally about to get the better of him. ‘You bloody grain men. What gives you treacherous double-dealing bastards the nerve to consider yourself equal to officers of the Imperial Army?’

Cassius swallowed hard but held his ground. ‘Choice words, Centurion. I shall remember them.’

‘How old are you?’

‘I do not see that that is particularly relevant.’

Nemetorius gestured at himself. ‘I took the oath twenty-eight years ago. I have served a dozen emperors in as many different provinces, led hundreds of men into battle and cut down the enemies of Rome. What have you ever done, you arrogant little shit stain?’

Cassius stepped backwards. ‘This and that. Unfortunately, Chief Pulcher doesn’t allow us to share the details of our work. I fancy I might share this conversation with him, though; Officer Abascantius too.’

‘You dare to threaten me?’

‘You are the one holding your sword hilt, Centurion.’

Nemetorius looked down; he hadn’t even realised it. He straightened up and patted his hair, even though there didn’t seem to be a single strand out of place.

Cassius’s throat was dry. He had to cough several times before speaking. ‘I – I am sorry for the suffering of Legionary Scato but he made a poor choice.’

Nemetorius aimed a thick finger at him. ‘Despite my better judgement, I cooperated with you, Crispian. And this is how I am repaid?’

‘Your cooperation is greatly appreciated.’

‘Good, because there will be no more of it.’

‘Gentlemen!’

Diadromes came in from the other entrance, to Cassius’s left. With him was his clerk, who stayed well back, like the soldiers.

‘Good afternoon to you both.’

‘Good afteroon,’ said Cassius.

Nemetorius cast a cynical glance at the deputy magistrate. ‘I was just telling the officer here that after today’s incident he can expect no more help from the garrison. Still, as you seem so keen to bend over backwards for him I’m sure he will continue to sneak about the place causing trouble, with no regard for rank or authority.’

Diadromes did not seem concerned by the slight. ‘This incident at the eastern gate? I’m afraid I have not heard the details.’

‘I do not intend to go over it again. Crispian, I expect payment – for Scato’s medical costs.’

‘I will consider that, of course,’ said Cassius, anxious to salvage some vague semblance of goodwill if he could.

Nemetorius gave him a final scowl then turned away.

‘Centurion,’ said Diadromes, ‘as you’re here, I wanted to ask about this man Ravilla. My office has heard nothing since you took custody of him yesterday.’

‘Rest assured we are working on that. Working on him, to be precise. We’ll have the others soon enough.’

Now Diadromes did seem dismayed. ‘Torture? Word will reach the people. It may enflame an already difficult situation.’

‘I will remind you, Deputy Magistrate, that I am only involved in these matters because Pomponianus feels his subordinates have lost control of the streets. You are one of those subordinates. Like your young grain man friend here, perhaps you too should remember your place.’

Cloak flicking up behind him, Nemetorius spun on his heels and set off, the expressionless legionaries falling in five paces behind.

‘A rather fiery character, our chief centurion,’ said Cassius.

The deputy magistrate would not be drawn. ‘This incident with Indavara was regrettable. A financial settlement is the best course of action.’

‘Would Legionary Scato see a coin of it?’

‘Yes. Nemetorius is impervious to such temptations. To his credit, he is concerned only with doing what he sees as his job; looking after his troops and assisting the magistrate.’

‘Pomponianus may be the senior official in Berytus but Nemetorius is a chief centurion – he needn’t answer to him.’

‘Ordinarily perhaps,’ said Diadromes, ‘but Nemetorius covets a place with other veteran officers in Rome.’

‘Ah, the urban cohort.’

‘Yes. And to even be considered he will need excellent reports from both the magistrate and the governor.’

‘Not to mention a reputation for being uncompromisingly strict and loyal.’

‘Quite, as you yourself have observed. In any case, neither of us can afford to offend him.’

‘I fear my very existence does that.’

‘Let us walk, I have been sitting in meetings all day.’

As they set off across the courtyard, a small flock of pigeons in another corner fluttered upward then settled on the roof. A quartet of clerks walked past, each holding large bundles of waxed tablets. They started talking again only when they were well clear of Diadromes.

‘Cosmas tells me your efforts at the gates were in vain.’

‘It appears so, though the inspections may yet yield something. It is possible that we have done nothing more than alert the gang – if they see through the spy story. It is really not going well.’

‘You are forgetting the contention that this “gang” was never here in the first place.’

‘I haven’t forgotten it. It is seeming more likely with every passing day.’

‘But you will continue your enquiries?’

‘For the moment, yes.’

‘You may keep Cosmas for as long as you need him.’

‘Thank you.’

Diadromes pushed his bracelets up his arm and grinned. ‘Despite what I said yesterday, my well of gratitude is not yet completely dry. My wife’s good mood shows no signs of abating.’

‘Lucky for me.’

They reached the rear gate of the basilica, where a pair of legionaries stood guard.

‘You are alone?’ asked Diadromes.

‘I thought it best to let Indavara calm down so Cosmas came with me. I left my horse at the stables.’