Simon Scarrow - Praetorian

‘I-I don’t know anything about it.’ Lurco raised his bound hands. ‘You have to believe me. I beg you.’

Macro clicked his fingers and looked at Cato as if an idea had struck him. ‘Perhaps the traitors are trying to cover their tracks? Dead men tell no tales, and all that.’

‘But I’m not a traitor!’ Lurco whined. ‘I’m not part of any conspiracy!’

‘Pipe down!’ Macro snarled. ‘Or you’ll wake everyone in the bloody building.’

Lurco subsided.

Cato spoke again. ‘If that’s true, why do you think the conspirators want you dead? There has to be a reason. What is it that you know that makes you a danger to them?’

‘I don’t know. I swear I have no idea. Please believe me!’

The other three men stared at him in silence and the centurion cowered. Septimus took a deep breath and puffed his cheeks out. ‘We need to talk. Put him next door with the other one.’

Macro and Cato grabbed the centurion by the arms and dragged him into the next room and placed him against the wall opposite Vitellius. They closed the door firmly behind them and then moved close to Septimus so that their words would not be overheard by the prisoners.

‘We’re none the wiser,’ Septimus concluded bitterly. ‘Why would the Liberators want him dead?’

‘Perhaps they’re just doing the imperial guard a favour,’ Macro suggested with heavy irony. ‘He’s not the best officer I’ve ever encountered.’

‘I think we can discount that,’ Septimus replied, not knowing Macro well enough to be certain if he was being humorous.

Cato ran a hand through his scalp. ‘If there’s a reason why they want Lurco disposed of then it has to be because of something he knows, or because he is in the way of their plans. From what little we’ve got out of him, it seems he has no idea about the conspiracy.’

‘Unless he’s a bloody good actor,’ Macro intervened.

‘That’s possible.’ Cato conceded. ‘But his fear seemed real enough. If he knows something that the Liberators think might threaten their plans, then it’s clear to me that Lurco has no idea that he knows what he knows.’

Macro winced. ‘Come again?’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ Cato replied as he continued his train of thought. ‘If they don’t want him dead to keep him quiet, then the reason has to be that he is some kind of an obstacle. They want him replaced.’

‘Replaced?’ Septimus stared at him. ‘Why would they want to replace him?’

Cato’s mind grappled with the implications of his suggestion. If he was right then the danger to the Emperor was clear enough. ‘Because he commands the Praetorian guardsmen who stand closest to the Emperor at the moment. If the Liberators can get one of their men to replace Lurco then they will be within striking range of the Emperor. Close enough to attempt to kill him. It makes sense. They’ve tried once already with that ambush on the imperial party the day of the Accession games. Next time they won’t have to penetrate his line of bodyguards to stick the knife in.’

Septimus stared at Cato for a moment. ‘You could be right …’

‘Narcissus has to get Lurco and Vitellius out of Rome and keep them out of sight,’ Cato went on. ‘Then we wait to see who is appointed as the new centurion of the Sixth Century, and we watch him like a hawk. See who he talks to and make sure we’re close enough to him to act whenever the century is escorting the Emperor.’

‘That’s taking quite a risk,’ said Macro. ‘I doubt that Narcissus will agree to it. Why not just arrest Lurco’s replacement? And Sinius while we’re at it?’

‘Because they will lead us to the rest of the conspirators,’ Septimus spoke before Cato could reply. ‘And hopefully they’ll lead us to what remains of the bullion stolen from the convoy as well.’

‘That’s right,’ Cato agreed. He paused for a moment. ‘But we have a more pressing issue to deal with before then – making sure that the grain Cestus has stockpiled is still at the warehouse near the Boarium. If we can confirm that then Narcissus can seize it and the Emperor can start feeding the mob. Once the people have food in their stomachs they’ll be offering prayers to him rather than threats. That will knock the wind out of the Liberators’ plans.’

‘Very well,’ said Septimus. ‘We’ll see to that tomorrow. Meet me at the entrance to the Boarium at noon. For now, you two had better get back to the camp and rest. I’ll deal with our two friends.’

‘Deal with?’ Cato arched an eyebrow.

‘They’ll be taken somewhere we can keep an eye on them. I’ll have them released once it’s all over. They won’t come to any harm.’

‘More’s the pity,’ muttered Macro.

‘How are you going to get them out of the city?’

‘I’ve got a covered cart in a lock-up under the aqueduct at the end of the street.’

Cato nodded and he and Macro turned towards the door. Cato paused on the threshold. ‘It just occurred to me. Sinius will want proof that the job’s been done. I need something from Lurco.’

He entered the other room and came back a moment later with the centurion’s equestrian ring. ‘One more touch and that should convince Sinius.’

‘Eh?’ Macro glanced at him. ‘What did you have in mind?’

‘You’ll see. Come on.’

Cato led the way out of the two-room apartment on to the landing. Just before he closed the door behind them, Septimus whispered, ‘Until noon at the Boarium, then.’

Taking care to feel their way down the darkened stairwell with its worn and creaking floorboards, Cato and Macro left the tenement block and emerged into the street.

‘Back to the camp then!’ Macro’s tone was light hearted now they had completed their task. ‘We should get a couple of hours’ sleep before morning assembly.’

‘There’s one more thing to do first,’ said Cato.

‘What’s that then?’ Macro asked wearily.

‘Something that’s not particularly pleasant, but necessary.’ Cato steeled himself to face the task, then gestured down the street. ‘Let’s go.’

The men of the Sixth Century stood formed up, at ease, waiting for their commander to emerge from his quarters to take the morning parade. Centurion Lurco was late and the men would have fallen to muttering and shuffling their feet had they not been under the cold gaze of Optio Tigellinus as he paced steadily up and down the front rank, his staff tucked under his arm.

Cato could not help feeling conspicuous given that it was thanks to him and Macro that the century was standing in the cold, waiting in vain. By now the centurion, and Vitellius, should have left the city and be on the road to the remote villa where they would be held until Narcissus gave the order for their release.

‘What the bloody hell is keeping him?’ Fuscius whispered fiercely. ‘Bet the bastard’s in his cot sleeping off a skinful.’

‘More than likely,’ Macro replied quietly.

‘Well, it ain’t good enough. Officers should know better than to leave us out in the cold like this.’

‘Legion officers would never get away with this,’ Macro added. ‘They’re made of sterner stuff.’

Fuscius glanced at him and muttered in a sceptical tone, ‘So you say.’

‘I do.’ Macro nodded. ‘And I defy any man to say otherwise.’

‘Who the hell is speaking?’ Tigellinus roared as he strode back down the line towards them. Macro and Fuscius instantly shut their mouths and stared straight ahead. Tigellinus swept by, his eyes ablaze as he searched for any sign of the guilty parties. He carried on down to the end of the line, about-turned, and marched back.

‘I didn’t bloody imagine it. I definitely heard one, or more, of you dumb bastards muttering away like schoolboys on their first visit to a whorehouse! Who was it? I’ll give you one chance to step forward, or the whole bloody century is on latrine duty!’