Marilyn Todd - Black Salamander

‘Maybe that’s too strong a word. It’s just that, if you recall, intelligence came back that the Helvetii had killed a tile-maker in the convoy to Vesontio, a man by the name of Libo. Since then, I’ve come to understand that Libo was an undercover agent, working for the Security Police.’

‘And?’ The cross-eyed senator adjusted his position and nonchalantly rearranged his toga. ‘Libo’s dead, isn’t he? Where’s the problem?’

‘As I say, maybe there isn’t one. It’s just that another agent has taken his place and it cannot be coincidence that his name is Marcus Cornelius Orbilio. The chap whose nose has been poking so industriously into the matter of the Treveri’s unrest,’

As officials separated a pair of sparring senators, Squint considered the ramifications of this latest twist to the scheme. In terms of global strategy and the renaissance of a glorious Republic, he saw nothing in one man’s departure which could possibly alter the future and he made this point to his bony confederate.

‘Sending men-and indeed women-undercover is routine procedure, and not only for the state,’ he reminded him, and at the same time beseeched Jupiter to send him a little sprig of patience. He flicked an imaginary speck of dust from his shoulder, and from the corner of his eye studied the lump of skin and bones seated next to him and wished, not for the first time, that he’d been able to find a brighter, more ambitious, more ruthless co-conspirator, with the same wealth this wretched invalid had been prepared to splash out in bribes.

‘Spying’s a vital cog in every wheel, whether military, commercial or marital,’ he said in a low undertone, annoyed with himself that he had allowed personalities to get in the way of ambition. ‘And if, as you are apparently suggesting, Libo was despatched by our own agent in the convoy, rather than by some testy Helvetian, then I imagine that equally we can rely on our agent to sort out this second man-and I don’t necessarily mean with an accident.’

‘Aha.’ The invalid was beginning to see what Squint was driving at. The whole purpose behind the diversion was to stall for time, convince the rebel armies that the treasure map was on its way and that soon they’d be rich beyond their wildest dreams. With the entire State Treasury at their disposal, they were free to make war on any tribe they chose, annexe territories of their own, conquer lands to the north, to the east, and with Rome as their allies, those chieftains who had co-operated to overthrow the Emperor would be invincible.

What they didn’t know, of course, was that the fat man’s reading of the armed-forces situation was spot on. Regardless of who ran the Empire/Republic/call-it-what-you-will, no military commander would accede an inch of Roman territory, and instead of rebel chieftains sweeping across Europe like a plague of locusts, the mutinous bastards would be cut down before they’d even armoured up.

The term, the invalid believed, was double-cross.

For it was imperative no rebel laid his hands on any Roman gold or silver, which meant they must be stalled-at least until the Ides of July. Itself only a fortnight away.

However, providing the undercover agent Orbilio could be convinced there was nothing suspicious about the convoy’s little diversion, that he came to accept that any tragic deaths which had occurred along the way were pure accidents, then his presence might well work to their advantage. His report would reveal them to be squeaky-peaky clean, while at the same time adding tremendous credence to the tale they’d spin to the rebels, since Orbilio’s integrity was not only well-known in military and administrative circles, it was also beyond question, and only a moron would imagine the Helvetii and the others didn’t have paid spies of their own to keep tabs on this situation.

‘Order!’ The presiding magistrate tapped the dais and bellowed across the chamber. ‘Order, gentlemen, please!’

The unseemly scuffles died down and the protagonists resumed their seats on the tiers, for all the world like schoolboys looking to their tutor for guidance.

‘I think it’s safe to assume there’ll be no voting in here today.’ The magistrate laughed, diffusing the situation with his natural good humour. ‘And since the sun is threatening to sink below the rooftops, I intend to call an end to today’s proceedings, but before we leave, gentlemen, I would like to announce the official opening of the coastal road to Gaul.’ Hurrahs rang round the crowded chamber, rippling like an echo through the populace outside.

‘So the Helvetii are pacified at last,’ someone cried. ‘’Bout time, too!’

‘Those bastards are never pacified,’ someone else shouted back. ‘The word’s “subjugated”, you’ll find.’

‘Order.’ The magistrate’s rod boomed against the dais. ‘You can vent your feelings about the Helvetii, gentlemen, over a flagon or two later, I’m sure we all intend to celebrate this milestone in transport and communication!’ More hurrahs followed, as it became clear just how vital this link would be. No more overland treks through the Alps. No more hazardous voyages by sea. Only one senator, an old bear of a man with great tufty eyebrows, didn’t seem pleased with the new open road, but then again he, as owner of a fleet of merchantmen, wouldn’t.

‘And finally,’ the magistrate announced, ‘I feel this is the occasion on which we should officially congratulate Senator Galba for his perspicacity and foresight in arranging the trade delegation to the Sequani tribe in Gaul, which I am delighted to report has now arrived safely in their capital, Vesontio.’

He paused and shot a beaming smile at the glowing Galba.

‘This man-’ The cheerful faced official had to raise his voice for it to carry over the thunderous applause. ‘This man saw an opportunity and seized it with both hands. As you all know, in four years’ time we shall be celebrating our half century of living in peace and harmony with the Sequani, and how better, the Emperor thought, than to cement the alliance with a temple to the holy twins, Castor and Pollux? A true symbol of unity and friendship. It will, of course, take us those four years to build the temple in Vesontio, but it is thanks to Galba, here, that the inauguration ceremony will be followed by a trade fair the likes of which Gaul has never seen before, and I put it to the Senate, gentlemen, that if Galba is half as industrious in his role as Prefect of the State Treasury as he was in organizing this delegation, Rome will never want for anything again!’

The bouncy magistrate waited for the cheering to abate.

‘Moreover, gentlemen, I would like it officially recorded that, in my personal opinion, Senator Galba will go far in this administration and I, for one, wish him the very, very best. Now for heaven’s sake, stand up, man-don’t be so modest.’

His fat face suffused with pleasure, the treasury official heaved himself to his feet.

Behind him, two senators applauded the loudest. One had buck teeth and the other was thin from an ulcer.

Galba turned round and tipped each co-conspirator a broad wink.

Call that a village? Claudia goggled at the depressing cluster. That collection of beehives? She had hung back in the forest with the others while Junius, as interpreter, and Theo, as official representative of Rome, made their way down to the man-made clearing where six squat structures huddled together like virgins at an orgy. Assorted creatures scuffed and snuffled in the dust-tiny brown sheep which reached barely knee high, shaggy-haired goats with long, swept-back horns, heavy grey geese with bright orange bills, dirty children, barefoot and squealing.

‘Dear lord, what sort of people are they, these Sequani?’ Maria demanded. ‘Content to live like pigs.’