Rufinus thrilled to the whipping wind and easy speed and cantered along the metalled road happily, eating the stadia and then the miles. Just before the peeling, crumbled houses of Collatia he passed a group of men armoured in dulled mail and wrapped in brown cloaks, their horses tethered by the road, busy digging into bread and cheese, breaking up their journey as the wind whipped their hair and beards.
It was only as he was past and they had disappeared behind him around a corner that he realised they were the Praetorians he had seen saddled in the yard that morning. It brought a small smile to his face to discover that he was not the only member of the guard being sent out in a rude guise on some underhand task.
The smile slid slowly from his face as the reality of the coming day sank home once, danger looming darker and closer with every passing mile that brought him towards Tibur and the Villa Hadriana.
XVIII – Descent into darkness
RUFINUS turned off the road and traipsed with a sinking feeling along the narrow private road that led to the villa. Constans the merchant had taken in the horse and reminded him of the route and Rufinus had made his way down the zig-zag road with considerably less enthusiasm than his last break-neck descent, his pace slowing as he neared the villa.
All along the beautiful road to the first structure his mind raced, working out the best way to approach his return, given that he was unaware of the official reason for his departure. At least the giant Sarmatian thug was no longer a factor.
His stomach grumbling, complaining of missing the morning meal, Rufinus strode across to the servants’ door in the side of the entrance building. The sun was on its ascent now, the villa’s occupants having broken their fast hours ago, the noon meal still a couple of hours away.
He hesitated before knocking. Something was still gnawing at him, asking him whether he was truly best serving the emperor and even the guard by continuing on the course of action set by Paternus.
But he was here. There was still enough of a threat to have alarmed both prefects, and the only way they could identify potential dates, times, methods and perpetrators was through him.
Rap, rap, rap.
The door was opened by a man Rufinus knew vaguely by sight. The servile population of the villa so outnumbered the residents and the guards that most of their faces blurred into a haze. It was only as his thoughts swept across the word ‘slave’ that he found himself picturing the face of Senova and wondered that he had not looked up at the slave quarters on the way in on the off-chance she was standing there on the balcony.
‘Gnaeus Marcius of the guard. I need to see Dis or Phaestor.’
The servant narrowed his eyes for a moment, looking the battered visitor up and down as though running through a mental checklist and then nodded. ‘Follow me, sir.’
Pausing to allow the man time to close the door and slide the bolts home, Rufinus breathed deeply, trying to exude an air of confidence that he thoroughly lacked.
The slave hurried off with that fast shuffle of hopeless indentured servants everywhere, his eyes darting nervously at every sign of movement. Rufinus paid not a jot of attention to his surroundings as he was led through rooms and gardens, passageways and staircases to the grand edifice that was once the residence of the Praetorian Guard. The fine building rested upon huge vaulted substructures, reminiscent of those that now housed the slaves. Through a fine marble vestibule they moved, along a corridor lined with busts of men armoured in the fashion of generals of old.
And suddenly they were at their destination: a door with no markings; presumably that of either Dis or Phaestor. Rufinus waited for the slave to announce him, but the shuffling man simply gave him a swift bow, turned and hurried away. Taking a deep breath and preparing himself for the worst, Rufinus stepped forward and rapped on the door.
‘Come.’
The captain’s voice was sharp; impatient - unusual for the smooth-tongued man. Rufinus swallowed nervously and opened the door. Phaestor sat with a sword in his hand, running a whetstone along the edge as he looked up at his visitor, taking in the sling and the various pads and bandages. His eyes widened for just a moment and then narrowed under furrowed brows. His short-cropped hair and beard glistened with sweat, indicating that he had been exercising heavily.
‘Marcius? What are
you
doing here? And what happened to you?’
Rufinus swallowed again. Good questions he felt entirely ill-equipped to answer.
‘I was finished earlier than expected. I should find Dis and speak to him, but thought I’d best report in as soon as I arrived, sir.’
It was a gamble, for certain, but an educated one: vague enough that the answer would fit a thousand situations, while still answering the captain’s question adequately. He had to rely on the likelihood that Dis would not have written him off completely, given the possibility of him showing up unexpectedly.
His heart skipped a beat in the moment’s silence.
The whetstone stopped halfway down the blade and Rufinus saw the knuckles of the man’s right hand tighten on the hilt. His own hand dropped just a fingerwidth or two toward the pommel of his sword.
Scrape.
The stone finished its descent along the blade and Phaestor nodded, frowning. ‘But the state of you?’
‘Bandits on the road. I gave good account of myself, but still barely got away.’
The captain continued to frown, but eventually nodded. Rufinus felt an almost explosive release of pressure inside and fought to contain his relief.
‘Dis is hunting and giving his dogs a run.’ He stood, replacing the whetstone on his cabinet and sheathing his blade. ‘Drop your gear and come with me. I know where Dis will be. You’ll not find him yourself and there’s no telling when he’ll get back if he gets a sniff of a deer.’
Rufinus continued to breathe as steadily as possible as he piled his travelling kit in the corner, retaining his sword, and followed the guard captain from the room. It was hard to believe he’d got this far. His simple lie had bought him time. The next problem was going to be tougher. He would have to face Dis, and the two men would need somehow to synchronise their lies in front of the captain or they would both endanger themselves. And even then, once they had convinced Phaestor all was in order, Rufinus would have to convince Dis that he needed to be here. There would be a lot more lying to go this evening before he could safely slump into that cot beneath the farting form of Glaucus.
They walked through the gardens behind the praetorium, toward the rear end of the villa, where Rufinus’ favourite haunts lay, including the abandoned theatre with the view across the plains. The young guardsman drew a nervous breath, preparing himself. It could be dangerous making enquiries of the captain, but every ounce of information on recent events might be of use when he met up with Dis.
‘What happened with Fastus?’ he asked quietly, a slight involuntary tremor in his voice.
Phaestor snorted. ‘Snivelling little shit. Dis had him all tied up ready to interrogate. I know Dis, too. The traitor would have sold out his mother when Dis got started with the pokers. But after the first blow, the little runt’s damn heart gave out. I was there and I’ve never seen such a thing in my life.’
Rufinus nodded, his heart aching for the poor innocent Fastus.
‘Tied there, hanging from the ceiling. Dis gave him a clout round the side of the head just to warm him up. Not even a hard one, and the man just convulsed, drooled and died there that very moment.’
They walked on in silence for a moment while Rufinus pictured the scene unhappily. The Frumentarius must have slipped some sort of poison or drug to the man to free him from the inevitability of torture. At least that was a small mercy. He…
‘Just why did Dis send you to the city?’
The question caught Rufinus off guard and he tried to hide the panic thrilling through him.
‘I’m not really sure.’ It was another gamble, deliberately misunderstanding the question. ‘He could have sent anyone. Maybe to keep me out of the way while he dealt with Fastus?’
Phaestor frowned and Rufinus’ heart started to pound so loud he felt it must be audible in the crisp, cold air. The captain regarded him with interest as they left the flagged and gravelled paths of the garden and crossed the lawn that ran parallel with the vineyard, the grass still white with frost where shadows had kept the sun from warming it.
Uncomfortable, Rufinus turned his head to face the pale, cold sun, drinking in the pathetic warmth it gave off, aware of the captain’s penetrating gaze on the back of his head. They walked on in an increasingly uncomfortable silence and ducked into the woodland that occupied the southern end of the estate, an area rarely patrolled due to the terrain and the lack of anything worth protecting. It would naturally be the best hunting ground, full of wildlife and hiding spots.
Following a game trail clearly already known to Phaestor, they crunched deeper into the woodland, Rufinus moving carefully so as not to catch his sling on the jutting branches and twigs.
‘Dis?’ Phaestor called quietly. ‘Dis? It’s Phaestor and Marcius. Don’t get too twitchy with that bow if you see something moving.’
The only answer was the rustle of leaves and the faint whistle of the wind through the trees. Then, somewhere up ahead there was the deep, throaty bark of a large dog. Phaestor nodded to Rufinus and they turned onto a side track that ran through the deeper woodland, barely a man wide, hoof prints of a young deer tracking through the hard mud. Briefly, they crossed a small, grassy clearing, the grass
white and stiff with frost, shaded by the trees and untouched by the sunlight, then they were back into the stygian gloom of the woods.
The trail curled and twisted through the woodland and Rufinus was increasingly grateful that Phaestor had taken the lead, since the man’s almost accusatory stare was becoming most uncomfortable. After a few moments they turned a sharp bend in the path and strode out into a wide strip of grass that ran across the woodland. As they passed out into the open, they crossed the crumbled remains the estate’s boundary wall, now untended and fallen in heaps.
Phaestor was peering off to left and right for any sign of the huge black dogs. Rufinus’ gaze, however, was drawn directly ahead.
‘Phaestor…’
‘You’d think you’d at least be able to see those damn monster dogs crashing around.’
Rufinus reached out with his good arm and grabbed the man’s shoulder, turning him to face across the grassy swathe. ‘Phaestor…’
Finally, a little confused, the captain’s gaze followed that of his companion and fell on the sight that had so transfixed Rufinus. He made a small gasping noise and then started to walk slowly across the grass, white blades crunching underfoot.
Rufinus followed him towards the body on the edge of the forest opposite, partially obscured by the hanging foliage. Dis hung ingloriously, toes two feet from the ground, each wrist strapped to the bole of a tree with leather bindings. He was naked to the waist, hanging limply like a crucified man. How Rufinus knew immediately it was the Frumentarius, he couldn’t say, since the head had dropped down on to the chest and all they could see was top of his head, but somehow he knew.
The swathe of crimson on the man’s chest told them everything they needed to know. The amount of blood and its location were the product of a cut throat - both men had seen it before.
‘Oh, shit.’
Rufinus was moving faster now, ducking under a projecting branch and closing on the body. Phaestor was at his side a moment later as they reached Dis’ hanging corpse.
Gingerly, Phaestor reached out and lifted the head to confirm what they already knew. It was definitely the captain’s second, his hollow eyes now devoid of life. His throat had been severed with a deep rent, hacked rather than sliced, by a strong blow. Probably
backhand, judging by depth, shape and angle. With a growl of anger, Phaestor lowered the head once more. Gloopy, half-clotted blood fell away from the disturbed wound.
The captain turned, his face like thunder. ‘If I find out you had anything to do with this…’
But Rufinus was already moving closer to the body. The huge red slick of blood coating the man’s torso was covering more than simple skin. Taking a deep breath, Rufinus reached for the canteen of water that hung from his belt. Lifting it, he unstoppered the top and threw the contents at the slick of blood, watching as the water washed the torrents down into the corpse’s already blood-soaked breeches.
Phaestor stared at him. ‘What the hell are you…?’
Rufinus held up a hand to interrupt him and then turned it to point at the body. The slick gone, rivulets of red winding down the torso, it was now much easier to see the word carved across the man’s chest with a sharp knife.
FRVMENTARIVS
Phaestor stared for a long moment and moved closer, his eyes picking out every detail, reaching out to touch the carved skin and pausing just short.
‘More than just a simple attack, sir’ Rufinus said quietly to Phaestor.
‘I want to find who did this and cut them into very thin strips, Marcius.’
The man straightened. ‘Perhaps your bandits on the road were a little more than that? What if they were looking for Dis? And where are his damn dogs, then? They never leave his side unless he tells them to. Surely
they’d
protect him?’
Rufinus pointed into the woods to their left, where a large, black shape lay, purple glistening innards in a pile beside it.
‘Oh, Hades, Tarterus and bollocks.’
Rufinus stepped back out of the trees, looking up and down the grassy meadow.
‘The blood’s only recently started to congeal. This was done recently. Not more than a quarter of an hour or so ago.’
Phaestor nodded as he wandered over to the body of the mutilated dog. ‘Then they could still be in the woodland. We need to get the entire staff out. There’s an alarm bell up near the old theatre.’
The man turned to see Rufinus shaking his head. ‘We’ll not catch them. They’re already gone.’