Lindsey Davis - The Jupiter Myth

The soldiers were itching to act. I agreed. My one thought now was to rescue Petronius. Already it could be too late.

Florius knew what he had achieved. He appeared once more on that balcony, this time triumphantly showing us two of his men holding Petro between them. Now he had new demands. He wanted a ship, and safe passage for his men and himself to go aboard.

It was at this moment that we were joined by the governor.

Decisions were no longer mine to make. Frontinus must already have been briefed. He took stock very quickly. The life of a Roman officer was at risk, but a public building had been taken over and if he allowed criminals to do as they liked in this way, his provincial capital would reach a state of anarchy 'I can't have this. We'll go in.'

I kept myself under control as best I could. 'If you attack the building, they will kill Petronius.'

'Don't fool yourself,' Frontinus warned. 'They intend to kill him anyway.'

We were taking too long. Frontinus left me and went into a huddle with his staff officers.

'You could have kept him off the scene,' I muttered to Silvanus.

'He's no slouch. He wouldn't hear of going home for borage tea and waiting for a report later. I don't want him here, Falco, believe me. Can't risk losing him to a bloody ballista bolt.'

'Oh, such consideration for an imperial legate!'

'It's consideration for myself,' Silvanus grinned. 'Just think of the reports to write if we let a legate of Augustus get wiped out!'

Now I definitely knew that he was a member of the canny Second.

While the governor brooded bureaucratically, the gang lost patience. Maybe they spotted Frontinus and guessed his hard attitude. Maybe the numbers of soldiers now arriving made them give up hope of negotiating their way out. A shutter smashed open; a ballista shot through the opening nearly killed Silvanus.

We all fled for cover. Silvanus was desperately ordering men to remove Frontinus from the danger zone. There was nothing for it. The legionaries would fight to regain the customs house.

'We can burn them out or batter them.'

'Try to save the building,' Frontinus said drily. 'I have enough demands on my works budget.'

We had no idea what was going on inside. I could only hope that the distraction of an attack would deter Florius from any plans to put Petronius through torture.

I wanted to help but was rebuffed. 'Keep out of the way. You're not in the damned army now. Leave this to us, Falco.'

Silvanus called the order. Timbers appeared out of nowhere; in a hail of missiles, men rushed the main entrance and started beating in the door. Forming a classic testudo, under walls and a roof of shields, they managed to approach close enough to pile in though windows and shin up to the balcony. Ballistae were fired, but they are long-range weapons. Once the legionaries ran up close, they were more than a match for the gangsters. The speed of their reaction to the first shot seemed to take the mobsters by surprise, and the boys in red soon burst in on them.

There was a sharp bout of fighting inside. Silvanus and his men were ruthless. Ten or so heavies, some bleeding copiously, were taken into custody. A handful had been killed. Norbanus was captured. Soldiers swarmed through the offices, searching for Petro as a priority. Uniformed men ran in all directions. But in the chaos, our quarries escaped. I searched the building myself; I scanned all the prisoners and lines of bodies and wounded to make sure: unbelievably, Florius had given us the slip. There was no sign of him. No sign of Maia. No sign of Petronius.

The legions do not mess about. A systematic beating of one captured gangster, with the others watching, soon produced information.

'Where – is – Florius?'

'The warehouse -'

'You're lying!'

'No – he's got a load of stuff there, going to Rome.'

It was hard to believe. How could he have got past us? We had had men all along the wharf, and others in the backstreets. Silvanus and I pelted along there, followed by pounding legionaries. The wooden boards reverberated dangerously as we hared up to the store.

The wide doors opened outwards as they do in most stores to save making useless space inside. That made it difficult to break in. Silvanus pointed upwards with one finger: on the warehouse roof a group of soldiers were hastily removing tiles. Leaning forwards to listen, a rooftop legionary let us know in sign language that everything below was very quiet. He and his colleagues then continued lifting tiles.

I frowned. 'Something's up – I'm worried. We have to get this right. Why seal themselves in, with us crawling all over the exterior? The longer they stay inside, the worse it gets. They can't withstand a siege. Trust me, they are not intending to.'

'There are no windows and no other doors – and we're on the roof. Unless they've spirited themselves off in a cloud, they have to be still in there.' Silvanus was a literal man and he was obstinate. I remembered when he first showed us the Verovolcus corpse. He was helpful as far as he had to be, but he took no initiatives.

Fortunately initiative was not needed here. Sheer force broke through the doors. The huge place was empty.

Helena Justina came up and touched my ann. 'Listen – how could Florius have travelled along this part of the wharves with all the soldiers on guard?'

'This is the gang's warehouse, love. They killed that baker here -'

'And they know the customs men were watching it! They would be daft to come back here. Marcus, they had plenty of money. Why would they stick to one warehouse? I bet they have others – and while you are all searching this area, have you noticed that the warehouses also extend further upriver? The gang could just as well be using one on the far side, beyond the ferry landing stage.'

Helena was right. The ferryman had known about Florius.

I pelted back along the wharf. I crossed the road by the customs house, shouting to the legionaries to help. There was a landing-stage for the ferry, beyond the forum road. Beyond that were more lines of warehouses, packed along yet another wharf. While Silvanus and I had run in the wrong direction, his men must have continued to threaten the prisoners, and we found a group of soldiers breaking through various warehouse doors. The next part of our search took longer than I can bear to think about. One after another the stores were broken open. Eventually, with new information screwed out of the prisoners, the soldiers converged on what they thought was the right place. With Helena at my heels I pushed through, heedless of splinters. It was pitch dark. Someone handed in a torch.

'Petro!'

There was no answer.

'Petronius!'

This place was crammed with loot. I started forcing my way past chests and bales. More slender, Helena grabbed the torch and slipped past me through the piles of stuff, rushing ahead into the darkness, also calling out. Behind us soldiers were still breaking in.

Helena found Petronius first. Her scream chilled my blood. 'Marcus, Marcus, help him – quick!'

He had not answered because he could not do so. Every ounce of his being was under stress. At the limit of his endurance, even our arrival almost caused him to waver. Hope was the last distraction he needed.

Florius had left him absolutely stuck. He had taken his time to set this up. Petronius was tied by the waist with several long ropes lashed in a star-shaped pattern so he could not change position. Arms above his head, he was desperately holding on to a ring at the end of a long chain. It went up and over a pulley on a loading arm. To the other end Florius had attached a great crate of ballast. You know what ballast is – rocks, big enough to hold an empty ship steady in a storm. I could see the rocks piled high on top. It was perilously balanced immediately above Petro, jutting out over the edge of a walkway. An iron bar supported it halfway along. If Petro let go of the chain – or even loosed it a few inches – the crate would tip off its supports and crash straight down on him. The game was, Petronius had to last as long as possible, knowing that when his strength gave out, he would be crushed to death.