Phaestor deflated slightly and turned to Rufinus. ‘You must have sharp eyes. Even Dis hasn’t mentioned him, and my friend can spot an untruth instinctively.’
Fastus had now started to babble quickly, backpedalling, trying to explain away his knowledge of Cleander and the man’s habits as rumour and hearsay. Rufinus heaved a deep internal sigh of relief at the confirmation that at least the man was actually guilty of something, even if not treason, condemned by his own words. The chattering stopped abruptly as a large, meaty hand was clamped across the man’s mouth.
‘Now, now’ said Phaestor quietly. ‘Plenty of time to talk later.’ He turned to Vettius. ‘What do you intend to do about it?’
The major domo shrugged. ‘I shall inform the mistress of course, and she will decide on a course of action, with my guidance. Certainly the man will have to be questioned.’
Phaestor nodded and smiled very unpleasantly. ‘Agreed. However, I would suggest we wait on that. Dis is in the city on one of his trips and there’s no one more qualified to extract information than he.’
Vettius nodded. ‘Very well.’ He turned to the men holding Fastus. ‘Take him to the amphitheatre and have him locked in one of the cells. Make certain that the place is secure and under constant guard by trusted men.’
The four men glanced across at their captain, and he nodded his assent, watching as the four men dragged the prisoner away in a flurry of muffled protests.
‘Phaestor?’ the major domo said quietly. ‘I think we’ll want to check through his things when the man I assigned comes with them, but I also think we need to interview the entire staff and see it we can piece together more of a picture of this traitor’s activity.’
Phaestor nodded as Vettius turned to Rufinus. ‘You can write, yes?’
Rufinus nodded.
‘Then go and write down everything you know about him; everything you’ve seen, observed, or heard, and bring it all to myself and the captain when you’re done.’
Rufinus nodded and turned to leave.
‘Dis is going to want to speak with you, Marcius’ the captain added, looking at Rufinus with interest. ‘He’ll be fascinated to find out how you rooted out someone he missed.’
Rufinus nodded nervously, aware of the looks the giant, needle-toothed Tad was giving him. Something in that look held the promise of trouble, and Rufinus swallowed again, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck rise. Trouble was certainly coming, and Tad, for all his mountainous evil, was less of a worry than the possibility of having to deal with Dis and his hounds.
XVI – Secrets within secrets
THREE days passed in a strange limbo for Rufinus. He had returned to the routine drudgery of slogging around the estate, crunching the white grass beneath his freezing boots, blowing on his hands and watching the frost form on his mail, almost as though nothing had happened. It was illusory, he knew. Soon he would be sent for, whether for good or ill, by either Vettius or Phaestor, and things would change. But until that happened, patrolling the grounds remained his most important task, interspersed with a series of looks received from the other men varying from grudging respect to downright hostility - that last particularly evident from the needle-toothed Tad.
Strolling past the abandoned academy towards the so-called ‘gold wing’ with its amphitheatre and stadium, he chewed his lip thoughtfully. The past three days he had extended his circuit of the estate to loop around the amphitheatre in an attempt to spy out the caged Fastus and learn what he could of recent events.
The arena was constantly under the guard of three men, one inside and two patrolling the perimeter, and consequently Rufinus had only dared come close enough to nod at one of the guards in passing. Given his involvement in the affair, an aloof distance seemed to be the way to play it, though inside he burned to know what was happening behind the closed doors of the palace. Not once had he seen Fastus and, despite stepping forward conspicuously during duty assignments, he’d not yet been chosen to patrol the arena. Nor would he, he supposed, given his connection with the prisoner.
Still, another trip would likely do no harm, since the other guards clearly assumed that his route already took in the amphitheatre and nothing appeared untoward.
‘Marcius!’
His reverie interrupted, Rufinus looked up in surprise. It had taken a lot of concentration in his first weeks here to react so appropriately to his pseudonym. His mother, brother and sister had always used his forename, Gnaeus, his superiors in the military calling him Rufinus, and his father simply ‘boy’. No one, of course, used the family name. The Rustii were still hardly a name to advertise in exalted circles.
‘Hey… Marcius!’
He spun around, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the slope on his way past the arena. One of the amphitheatre guards was waving his arms.
‘What?’
‘Vettius wants to see you. He’s been looking for you for over an hour.’
‘Someone should have told him I was on patrol, then!’
The guard grinned at him. ‘No one ever knows where the hell you are, Marcius. Always got your head in the clouds and pissing around in the undergrowth. I swear you must have a woman and a jug of wine hidden out there somewhere!’
Rufinus laughed. ‘Just make sure you leave me some of both when you find them. Where’s Vettius now?’
‘Probably back in his office.’
Rufinus waved his thanks and glanced once more at the amphitheatre, unable to spot any sign of the prisoner. He would be in an underground cell. Rufinus felt the same cold shudder go through him as each time he thought on the unfortunate captive. Dis would be back today, apparently. And then the torture would begin and, given what Rufinus had seen of the hollow-eyed deputy, the victim would probably scream out every last thing he knew within an hour of first knife-stroke
He shuddered. Anything Fastus underwent was directly his fault, regardless of any level of second-hand culpability on the captive’s side. Trying to push down his guilt and shame, he fixed a grim smile to his face and made for the villa proper. Acknowledging the various folk he passed with a half-aware nod, he made his way through the arches and doors, across flags and along corridors until he reached the major-domo’s office.
‘Come!’
His hand stopped short of the door upon which he was about to knock. Shrugging, he reached down and eased the door open, entering with a straight back and expressionless face.
‘Glad you found time to come and see me, Marcius. Follow me.’
The small man was already walking past him, carrying an armful of wax tablets and sheets of bark covered in scribblings. Falling in at the man’s shoulder in a very manner, Rufinus turned and followed Vettius along the passage to the door at the end, the
one that led to the more opulent areas of the palatial villa. The guard on duty opened the door and stood aside.
‘I am forced to push matters faster than I would like, Marcius, as I have already been delayed too long by the absence of Dis from the barracks. I appreciate everything the man does for the empress and the danger in which he places himself at regular intervals, but the timing of this particular absence is most unhelpful. I need every trustworthy man available and I need to confirm that you belong in that group.’
Rufinus opened his mouth to answer but it was clear that the major domo was rattling out a stream of information without expecting replies, continuing with barely a breath.
‘Dis will be back shortly and will begin working on the prisoner. As soon as he is able to confirm the truth of matters and interviews you to both his and my satisfaction, I will be utilising you along with every other resource at my disposal. In order to speed the process up, I am giving you your instructions now and as of the morning, you will begin to follow them, pending Dis’ confirmation of your suitability.’
Rufinus started to speak, but the little man was already off again as they turned a corner.
‘This is the ‘water villa’. Hadrianus apparently used it when he sought the kind of solitude that is not readily available in the rest of the villa… the sort of solitude he could only find with his young man, if you get my meaning.’ The major domo waggled his eyebrows suggestively, but Rufinus’ entire attention had been stolen by the structure in front of him.
As they made their way through the short entrance corridor, the doorway ahead revealed what, to Rufinus, had to be the pinnacle of the architect’s art. A huge circular space lay beyond, surrounded by a high wall sporting a delicate, beautiful colonnade with a vaulted ceiling that, itself, surrounded a narrow circular canal of emerald green water. That in turn surrounded a circular island upon which stood a tiny villa with its own colonnaded atrium and marble-floored rooms. Rufinus blinked, unable to take in the sheer genius of the design and the magnificence and opulence that it represented.
He’d seen the palace on the Palatine and it was a sad, dull, brown shape compared to this delicate structure, circle within circle within circle. Why anyone would choose to live elsewhere when his family owned this place baffled Rufinus.
‘It’s fantastic!’
‘Don’t get carried away’ the major domo admonished, deflating the moment with his civil-servant’s manner. ‘This will be your duty for the next few days. We are to entertain an important visitor, though not one whom the mistress wants wandering freely around her private residence. Thus he will be accommodated in the water villa. The moat is crossable by means of wooden bridges that can be placed into position and removed. Your task will be night duty here, making sure no one enters or leaves. Most of the doors will be sealed anyway, but you will patrol the colonnade in the hours of darkness. If the visitor wishes to leave his secure villa for any reason, you will be the one to place the wooden bridge allowing him to cross. You will then escort him to wherever it is that he wishes to visit until you arrive in an area patrolled by another man, at which point you will deliver the guest into his keeping and return to your post. I cannot imagine he will want to go anywhere other than perhaps to the baths, given that there is a latrine on the island but no bathing facilities.’
He stopped and turned. ‘That is the assignment. It is very simple. Do not allow anyone in unless escorted by one of the guards, or out except escorted by yourself. Do not speak to the guest unless spoken to and then only platitudes. You will be reprimanded for anything you say that unnecessarily enlightens the guest. Understand?’
Rufinus’ heart skipped a beat. It was a low responsibility and a relatively unimportant task, but it was
inside
the palace complex. Things were starting to come together. He frowned.
‘If the empress doesn’t want or trust her visitor, why is she allowing the visit?’
Vettius shrugged. ‘Some people you simply cannot turn down. Saoterus is the favourite of Commodus, and so we must bend over backwards to accommodate him; though only so far.’
Rufinus tried to keep his face impassive as he nodded his understanding while inside, his pulse raced. Saoterus, according to the general, the only man keeping the emperor from disastrous courses of action while his other advisors plotted and schemed. Saoterus was coming
here
! Finally, some news worth delivering to the prefect back in Rome, and by coincidence tomorrow morning Constans would be here making his weekly delivery.
‘Are you alright, Marcius? You look a little dazed.’
‘Sorry sir.’ For effect, Rufinus rubbed the bruised lump on his forehead, still faintly purple and bulbous even after three days. ‘I understand. I report here at sunset tomorrow then?’
Vettius nodded. ‘Assuming all is well with Dis and the prisoner.’
Rufinus ducked through the gate in the garden wall, leaving the open area of the villa and entering the enclosed world of Pompeianus’ residence. The garden was deserted, though as well-tended as ever, each hedge and plant trimmed with delicate white frost. His footsteps were almost silent as he walked across the gravel, each individual chip welded to the next with winter’s chill.
Quickly, aware not only of the dissipation of his body’s warmth in the cold breeze, but also of the position he could be placing himself in, visiting the general, he hurried to the door and rapped on it three times in sharp succession. A few moments passed before there was an audible click and the door swung open half way to reveal one of Pompeianus’ servants, who Rufinus vaguely recognised.
‘I would like to see the dominus’ he asked quietly.
The servant nodded but kept the door only half open to prevent too much cold air from penetrating the building. ‘I am sorry, but the dominus is in the other wing, speaking with the domina. She sent for him almost an hour ago. Would you like to wait upon his return?’
Rufinus thought for a moment, but decided that he could be waiting for some time and a prolonged absence from duty might be noticed and frowned upon. ‘Thank you, but no. I shall drop by again this evening, if you would be so good as to tell the master when he returns.’
The servant bowed and waited for Rufinus to move away before shutting and locking the door.
Rufinus scratched his chin. It was a surprise at any time to hear of Lucilla and Pompeianus consorting. This was only the third time since his arrival at the villa that husband and wife had even spoken to his knowledge but then, with an important - and dangerous to Lucilla - figure like Saoterus visiting, plans would have to be made and orders given. If only he knew why the emperor’s favourite advisor was deigning to visit this viper pit…
As he passed back through the gate in the garden wall, the first blow took all the breath from him and left him staggering and dazed. Bent double by the strike to his sternum, he tried to look up and all he could see was meaty legs in wrapped skins.
Tad.
His gaze slid slowly upwards to that face with the wild eyes and the needle teeth, just in time to see the second blow coming, but not fast enough to do anything about it. The first, unexpected, punch had felt like being struck by a speeding cart.
The enormous, hairy, sweaty paw struck him on the side of the chin, spinning his head round to the left with an audible crack which for a moment had him believing that his spine had snapped. The force of the blow took him off his feet, spinning him in the air until he landed face first on the gravel, scraping his cheek raw and biting through his lip.