Simon Scarrow - Praetorian

‘What the hell happened?’ asked Macro.

‘That’s obvious. The dam gave way.’

‘How? How is that possible? You heard the engineer. It would take a hundred men to cause the dam to collapse.’

Cato thought for a moment. ‘Evidently not. It collapsed by itself, or someone helped it to.’

‘Shoddy bloody Greek workmanship – that’s what caused it.’

‘You really think so? Just when the Emperor happened to be standing right in the path of the wave when it struck? Quite a coincidence.’

‘It happens. The gods will play their games.’

‘So will some traitors. Did you see Tigellinus? It was as if he was the only one among us who wasn’t surprised by the wave.’

They continued in silence for a while before Macro cleared his throat. ‘All right then, so if the Liberators are responsible for this, how the hell did they manage it?’

‘I don’t know. Not yet. But I want a good look at what’s left of the dam.’

By the time they joined the other survivors, the remaining German guards had formed up round the Emperor. Their drenched locks of hair, streaked with mud, and their soiled tunics and armour made them look even more barbaric than normal and the Praetorian guardsmen and the civilians kept their distance. Someone had found a stool for the Emperor and Claudius sat on it numbly, surveying the scene. The survivors had instinctively made for the high ground to one side of the end of the vale, in case of another disaster. Narcissus was leaning in towards the Emperor, offering words of comfort while a terrified-looking Apollodorus stood a short distance off, between two of the German bodyguards.

‘You two!’

Cato turned sharply to see Tribune Burrus striding towards them. He and Macro stood to attention and saluted the commander of their cohort. Burrus studied Cato’s features briefly and then nodded. ‘You’re the one who helped me to save the Emperor, aren’t you?’

Cato thought quickly. It was tempting to take the credit for his part in rescuing Claudius, but it would be dangerous to risk drawing any attention to himself, or Macro. Particularly if word got back to the Liberators who would be certain to suspect their motives.

‘I was holding on to the same branch. That is all. I believe you were the one most responsible for saving him, sir.’

Burrus’s eyes narrowed, as if he suspected some kind of a trick. Then he nodded slowly. ‘Very well. All the same, I shall make sure that your part in this does not go unrewarded.’

Cato nodded his gratitude.

‘Your centurion’s missing. Have you seen him?’ the tribune asked.

‘He was close to us in the river. I lost sight of him afterwards.’

‘A pity. A good man that. Quick off the mark to try to save the Emperor when the wave struck. Lucky I was there to succeed where he failed, eh?’

‘Indeed, sir.’

‘His optio’s in charge now.’ Burrus nodded towards Fuscius who had somehow managed to hang on to his staff and was busy searching among the bedraggled survivors for men from the Sixth Century. ‘You’d best report to Fuscius directly.’

‘Not yet, Tribune,’ Narcissus called out as he made his way over to the three guardsmen. ‘I want to have a closer look at the dam. I want these two to help me, in case there’s any further danger.’

‘Further danger?’ Burrus looked surprised by the suggestion, then shrugged. ‘Very well, they’re yours.’

The imperial secretary nodded towards the Emperor and lowered his voice. ‘Look after him. He’s badly shaken.’

‘Of course.’

Narcissus glanced at Cato and Macro with the blank expression of one accustomed to seeing the broad mass of humanity as a single class of servants. ‘Follow me!’

They strode off across the grass, skirting the slick expanse of mud that sprawled across the land between the vale and the river. When they entered the vale, they had to progress carefully across the slippery ground and negotiate the tangled remains of trees and shrubs. As soon as they were out of the sight of the survivors, Narcissus turned to Cato and Macro.

‘That was no accident. That was a blatant attempt on the Emperor’s life, and mine.’

Macro snorted. ‘Not to mention a few hundred guardsmen and civilians. But I suppose we don’t count for much, eh?’

‘Not in the grand scheme of things, no,’ Narcissus replied coldly. ‘For now I’m happy for that Greek engineer to think it was an accident. He’s scared out of his wits and might divulge some information that might be useful. Now or later.’

‘Later?’ Cato glanced at him.

‘If by some slip of the tongue he tells me something that leaves me with a hold over him, that’s a useful by-product of the situation.’

Macro shook his head. ‘By the gods, you never miss a trick, do you?’

‘I try not to. That’s why I’m still alive and at the side of the Emperor. Not many of my predecessors can claim to have survived in that position for a fraction of the time that I have.’

‘And now Pallas is trying to push you out,’ Macro noted and clicked his tongue. ‘Puts you on the spot, eh?’

‘I’ve bested sharper men than Pallas,’ Narcissus replied dismissively. ‘He won’t concern me for much longer.’

‘Oh?’

Narcissus shot him a quick look and then stepped round a large boulder. He looked ahead and pointed. ‘That’s where we’ll find some answers, I hope.’

Cato and Macro followed his direction and saw the remains of the dam. A line of rocks stretched across the narrow bottom of the vale and water still trickled from between them. More rocks and shattered timbers lay strewn about the ground in front of the foundations of the dam. The three men picked their way forward and stopped a short distance below the main breach.

‘I’m trying to recall how it looked before,’ said Narcissus. ‘I should have paid more attention to that bore, Apollodorus. Weren’t there some big sticks supporting the middle?’

‘Sticks?’ Cato smiled. ‘I think he called them buttresses.’

Narcissus looked at him and frowned briefly. ‘Buttresses then. I remember he said that they would need plenty of men to shift them when the time came to drain the water behind the dam.’

‘That’s right.’ Cato nodded.

‘So what happened? Where did all these men suddenly come from? There wasn’t anyone near the dam.’

‘Yes … Yes there was,’ Cato replied. ‘You remember that party by a wagon close to the base of the dam.’

Macro nodded. ‘Yes. Can’t have been more than ten of them though. They wouldn’t have been able to shift those timbers. Not by themselves.’

‘No. You’re right,’ Cato conceded.

They picked their way across the muddy debris. Then Narcissus pointed down the vale. ‘Isn’t that one of them? One of those buttresses? Or at least what’s left of it.’

Cato and Macro turned to look. A hundred paces away, to the side of the vale, what looked like a shattered tree trunk stood up at an angle, wedged between two huge boulders. Cato could see that it was too straight and regular to be the remains of a tree. ‘Worth a look,’ he said.

‘Why?’ asked Macro, not liking the look of the mud-encrusted tangles of vegetation that lay between them and the shattered buttress.

‘For the dam to collapse, both of the main supports would have to give way first, right?’

‘So?’

‘So, aren’t you curious about how they did give way?’

Macro gave him a surly look. ‘I could be more curious.’

Cato ignored him and began to clamber across the ruined landscape towards the two boulders. After a moment the other two followed. Cato was examining the thick length of timber when they caught up with him. Some of the buttress was buried in the mud and another six feet or so protruded into the air before ending in a confusion of shattered splinters. Cato was tracing his fingers across what was left of a regular line at the edge of the splinters.