Simon Scarrow - Praetorian

Sinius leaned back in his chair with a contemptuous expression. ‘We understand each other well enough. Just do as you are told and take your reward, and when it’s all over you keep quiet.’

‘You needn’t worry,’ said Macro. ‘We know how to keep our mouths shut.’

‘Then see that you do.’ Sinius picked the severed digit up between thumb and forefinger and dropped it into an old rag. He wrapped the soiled cloth round the noisome object and placed it in a small chest where he kept his styli and pens. Snapping the lid shut, Sinius glanced up at the other men. ‘That’s all for now.’

‘Not quite all,’ Macro growled. ‘Our money.’

‘Of course.’ Sinius rose from his chair and crossed the office to a strongbox. He took a key on a chain from round his neck and fitted it into the lock. He reached in and drew out two leather pouches then closed the lid. He returned to his desk and set the pouches down with a soft clink. ‘Your silver.’

Cato stared at the two bags, quickly estimating their likely contents. He looked up with a frown. ‘How much is in there?’

‘Two hundred denarii in each.’

‘You said a thousand,’ Cato snapped. ‘Where’s the rest?’

‘You’ll get it when the job is done, and only then.’

‘It is done. Lurco has been dealt with.’

‘Lurco is one step along the path. Your services are needed for a little longer.’

Cato sucked in a breath and spoke through clenched teeth. ‘What else is there to do?’

‘All in good time.’ Sinius smiled. ‘Suffice to say that it’ll all be over within a month. Then you shall have the rest of your reward. You have my word on it.’

‘Your word?’ Cato sneered, reaching forward to take the purses and hand one to Macro. ‘Listen, friend. In this world only money talks. You still owe us three hundred each. Now you’d better tell me what we have to do to earn it. If I’m going to put my neck out for you and your friends, then I want to know what you’re asking of us.’

‘No. You do as you are told, when you’re told. That is all. The less you know, the better for all of us. Now go. Return to your barracks. You’ll be given your instructions when we’re ready to act.’ Sinius cleared his throat and concluded in a loud curt voice, ‘Dismissed!’

Cato and Macro stood to attention, saluted and then turned smartly to march from the office. Once the door was closed behind them Cato let out a sigh of relief and marched off down the corridor with Macro at his side.

‘Things seem to be moving to a head,’ Macro spoke softly. ‘Within a month, he said.’

Cato nodded. ‘And we’re still no closer to discovering who Sinius is working for. We’re going to have to watch him more closely from now on. Follow him, see who he speaks to. He has to meet with the other Liberators at some point. When he does, we need to be there.’

‘Easier said than done,’ Macro responded. ‘They’ll be taking precautions. What if they only communicate by some kind of coded written message?’

Cato thought for a moment. ‘That’s possible … But if they are going to act soon then there’s every chance they will have to speak face to face. We’ll start following Sinius as soon as we’ve dealt with that business down at the Boarium.’

‘All right,’ Macro agreed. ‘But before we meet Septimus there’s another small matter that needs seeing to.’

‘What’s that?’

Macro hefted his pouch of silver. ‘I’m not leaving this in the barracks where some thieving little toerag can get his hands on it. So before we go anywhere else, I think a little visit to one of the bankers in the Forum is called for.’

Cato slowed his stride to turn to his friend. ‘What are you thinking? Do you mean to keep that money?’

Macro could not hide his surprise. ‘Of course.’

‘But you know damn well where the silver has come from.’ Cato glanced round to make sure no one was close enough to overhear them. Apart from a handful of clerks chatting several paces ahead of them, the corridor was deserted. Cato lowered his voice even further. ‘It belongs to the Emperor.’

‘Not any more, it seems.’

‘You think Narcissus is the kind of man who will accept that line of argument? He’ll want it back, every coin that can possibly be recovered.’

‘Which is every coin that he knows about. So I’m not going to mention this little lot. Nor are you,’ Macro concluded firmly. ‘Besides, lad, we’ve earned it, several times over. We’ll just quietly bank this for now. If no one asks us for it, then there’s no harm in hanging on to it. Agreed?’

Cato felt a surge of frustration briefly course through his veins. ‘What if Sinius spills his guts when Narcissus moves to crush the plot? What if he tells Narcissus that we have the silver?’

Macro shrugged. ‘Then we’ll just have to make sure that we get to Sinius first when it’s over.’ His expression hardened as he glanced at Cato. ‘If he’s silenced before he can talk, then we might even get our hands on that chest he keeps in his office.’

The anxiety of a moment earlier returned as Cato hissed, ‘You’re playing with fire, Macro. Don’t even think about it.’

‘Why the hell not? I’m sick of doing Narcissus’s dirty work for no reward. No fair reward at least. This is a chance for us to get ahead in life, lad. We’d be fools to duck the opportunity.’

Cato could see the dangerous gleam in his friend’s eyes and knew it would be foolhardy to try to gainsay Macro in his present mood.

‘We’ll talk about it later, all right? I need time to think.’

Macro’s eyes narrowed briefly, then he forced a slight smile. ‘Very well, later.’

‘That’s the place,’ Cato muttered as he gestured towards the warehouse. Macro and Septimus were on either side of him as they strolled along the wharf. The same guard who had brusquely rebuffed Cato a few days earlier was sitting on a stool beside the gate. He held a small loaf in one hand and a wizened end of cured sausage in the other and his jaw worked steadily as he stared absentmindedly at the barges moored along the quay opposite the line of warehouses. Despite the lack of grain there were still imports of olive oil, wine, fruit, as well as the usual flow of luxury foods for the richest tables in Rome. All of which fetched prices far beyond the reach of the teeming multitude of the capital’s poorest inhabitants.

A short distance along the wharf from the warehouse of Gaius Frontinus a small crowd of ragged people stood watching the unloading of a barge. Several jars of wine had already been landed and now a chain gang was unloading large baskets of dried dates. The gang master was accompanied by a handful of men armed with cudgels who formed a loose cordon around the goods on the wharf and warily kept an eye on the surrounding crowd.

‘Over there,’ Cato said softly. ‘We won’t stand out in the crowd.’

They made their way over to the fringe of the silent gathering of men and women, some with children, and edged round until they could see the warehouse gate and the guard sitting in front of it. A moment before, Cato had not considered what the man was doing, but now he saw it for what it was, a cold-hearted display of cruelty as he ate while others starved.

‘What are we going to do?’ asked Septimus. ‘We can’t just walk in.’

‘We could,’ Macro growled. ‘There’s three of us and one of him.’

Septimus shook his head. ‘If we force our way in, then word will get back to Cestius soon enough and the Liberators will know that we are on to them. We can’t afford to scare them into hiding. It’s just as important to smash the conspiracy as find the grain. Meanwhile we have to get in there and confirm that the grain is actually inside, and then get out without the alarm being raised.’