Phaestor hurried across to where Rufinus was gazing down at the ground, his brow furrowed in concentration. ‘What is it?’
Rufinus was starting at the depressions in the white grass, where the frost had been crushed by a great deal of activity; activity that told him a lot more than he wanted to know. It told him who the killers were, though he could hardly pass that on to the captain.
‘Half a dozen men or more,’ he said, pointing and gesticulating around the grassy area. ‘They rode from the main track along this greensward and tied up their horses over there. You can just make out the tracks in the frost; thank the Gods for keeping this place out of the sunlight. If he’s bled out and clotted, they’ve been gone for maybe quarter of an hour. On a fast horse and galloping, they could be halfway to Rome by now.’
Phaestor narrowed his eyes. ‘How do you know all this?’ he asked, suspiciously.
‘Used to hunt with my brother - and ride. Not for a long time now, since…’ his voice tailed off, cracking slightly. A deep breath. ‘But I’ll tell you something else too: I used to be a legionary, and I recognise the work of soldiers when I see it. The hoof-prints are in formation, which is a dead giveaway. Besides, they didn’t cut his throat with a knife like a common thug. They took a swing at it with a sharp sword of some length. I’m guessing a spatha - a cavalry sword. This is the work of legionary horsemen. Whatever the hell’s happened here, I’m not really sure we’d
want
to catch up with them!’
Phaestor was nodding in disbelief. ‘So what? They were Frumentarii? Is that what that was in aid of? What would the Frumentarii want with Dis? I mean, he was a cold bastard and probably had a shady enough past, but…’
Rufinus shook his head. ‘My guess is that Dis
was
Frumentarius. Could that be possible?’
Phaestor blinked. ‘Dis? But he’s my best man. Been here since…’
‘Yes?’
‘Since the empress first occupied the palace. Are you suggesting he’s been working for the emperor for a year, right under my nose?’
‘It’s possible.’ Rufinus shrugged.
Phaestor glared at him, the dark gaze conveying his own opinions on the matter. But as they stood in uncomfortable silence, Rufinus saw a cold, hard light dawn in the man’s eyes as he ran through everything in his head. Finally, he nodded, finger tapping his lip.
‘That would maybe explain Fastus’ sudden death. If he
was
Frumentarius, and the pair were in league, Dis would have to get rid of him before he talked.’
His brow furrowed again as he turned to Rufinus. ‘Just what
did
he send you to Rome for?’
Rufinus swallowed. The removal of Dis freed him to spin whatever tale he wished.
‘I was sent to wait in a tavern in the Subura. I was supposed to sit there every day until someone came to me and asked me how the weather was in Hades.’ It was all fanciful, children’s espionage stuff, but it seemed plausible.
‘And?’
‘Well I was a couple of hours late, ‘cause I had to find a Greek and get my wounds seen to. But I went to the tavern and the man found me the first night I was there and sent me back to Dis with an answer.’
Phaestor gestured impatiently. ‘And?’
‘The answer was ‘yes’. I don’t even know what the question was, so it’s no help.’
‘You uncover his companion, so he gets you out of the way and then offs the accomplice. But what about this? Why are cavalrymen after him? Why kill him? Why here? Why leave us the reason carved in his chest?’
Rufinus shrugged. ‘No idea. Could be something to do with the message I was sent for? Could be anything. All I know is that when I served with the legions, no one liked the Frumentarii. They’re a dubious bunch, and dangerous too. Even officers high up in the legions hate and fear them. His death might be completely unconnected with the villa?’
Phaestor nodded again slowly. ‘I’d like to confirm the truth of this somehow, though Dis was the one with all the damn contacts in Rome!’ He smacked his fist into his palm.
‘I’ll send a burial detail out here as soon as we get back. This sort of thing should stay under wraps as much as possible. I’m going
to have to tell the empress, though. If her brother’s got his spies and assassins in her villa, she’ll need to know.’
Rufinus, nodding, turned at a strange whining noise. A large, black dog stood beneath the hanging branches of the trees, watching them and issuing a low keening noise that sounded like the very soul of sorrow.
Phaestor peered at it. ‘Acheron.’
Rufinus took two steps toward the dog, who issued a low growl.
‘Don’t be an idiot’ Phaestor snapped. ‘No one can go near those monsters but him.’
But Rufinus stepped closer. Two more steps. Then two more. The growling died away. He couldn’t explain it, but somehow he felt that the dog wouldn’t hurt him. Another three steps and he was close enough to see Acheron clearly. The enormous beast had a gash along his hind-quarters that glistened pink and white. The wound was bad, though not life threatening if it was dealt with soon.
‘Here, Acheron. Come on, boy.’
To Phaestor’s surprise, the black beast padded slowly and painfully out of the shadows, limping on its hind leg, and walked calmly up to Rufinus with a whimper. Rufinus dropped to his knees and smoothed the hair on Acheron’s neck.
‘I know. Come on, boy.’
He turned, ruffling the hair behind the dog’s ears, and walked back across the grass, the huge hunting hound following obediently at his heel. Phaestor stared. ‘Venus, shag me stupid! I’ve never seen anyone but Dis that can get within five paces of that monster without losing a hand.’
Rufinus nodded. ‘He’s frightened. Just lost his brother and his master and he’s in pain. You can’t blame a dog for his master’s sins.’
Phaestor stared nervously at the beast and reached out a tentative hand. The dog snarled, lip pulling back from large, yellowed fangs. The captain snatched his hand back. ‘Just keep the thing away from me.’
Rufinus patted the dog on the head and Phaestor shook his. ‘Come on. Have that thing penned somewhere safe, get your gear stowed and kit up, then report to Vettius for duty. I’ve got to go tell the empress what’s happened and then arrange for cremation and burial. This is really going to make her day,’ he added sourly.
Without further pause, Phaestor clambered over the low, ruined wall and back into the deer-path that led off toward the villa. Rufinus followed along behind a few paces, Acheron trotting awkwardly at heel.
As he walked, letting Phaestor move ahead and open up the gap between them, and now that he wasn’t struggling to pull together excuses and lies, for the first time he realised just how thoroughly, violently, dangerously angry he was. What in the name of Jupiter, greatest and best, did Paternus think he was going to achieve sending out a detachment of Praetorian cavalry to murder the Frumentarius? In what chaotic, Gods-forsaken world was it acceptable for the emperor’s guard to murder the emperor’s agents merely to gain an advantage in a task that shouldn’t be theirs in the first place?
His feet crunched through the undergrowth as he ground his teeth, seething anger roaring through his veins. There would be a reckoning when all of this was over. The job still needed doing, more than ever now, given how Dis had been needlessly sacrificed just to facilitate his return, but when it was done…
Mercator and Icarion had been right about the older prefect. He was going to fall, and when he did so, he would not bring Rufinus down. The man had crossed a line, and ties had to be severed. His brow furrowed and his teeth ground louder. He would also remember one or two of those cavalrymen’s faces that were already strangely etched in his mind.
Moments later, the pair arrived at the rear of the praetorium and Phaestor nodded once at him, sparing an uncertain glance for the huge black canine at his ankle, and veered off to the right, heading for the main bulk of the palace. Rufinus skirted the Praetorian quarters, Acheron close at heel, passing the room where his gear remained, and made for the doorway into Pompeianus’ stadium-shaped garden.
Still seething angrily and wearing a thunderous look, he rapped on the door and, as the servant opened it, pointed down at the large dog.
‘I know you’re trained for humans and not animal treatment, but it’s a sword wound and I know you can deal with that. I’ll pay you in good coin to treat him.’
The servant frowned and looked down at the animal, his eyes widening. ‘That’s master Dis’ dog.’
‘Not anymore’ Rufinus replied in a matter-of-fact voice that brooked no argument. ‘You can treat him, yes?’
The servant shied away against the wall. ‘Only if he lets me near him. That dog attacks people a little too freely.’
Rufinus shook his head. ‘He’ll be gentle as a puppy. But just in case, you might want to feed him some of your knock-out stuff.’
The servant licked his lips nervously. ‘I’ll… err… come in and take him into the big room out back and right. I’ll get my bag.’ As Rufinus padded into the corridor, walking the dog through the atrium and to the room indicated, the servant scurried off. Acheron crossed to the centre of the wide, marble floor and stood, looking forlorn, unable to lie down comfortably.
‘You’ll be alright boy. The man’s a medicus. Then we’re going to have to decide what to do with you. You certainly can’t stay in the room with me and Glaucus.
‘Perhaps he’ll stay here?’ a voice called quietly from behind.
Turning, Rufinus smiled at the former general, feeling some of the tension slip away from him merely at the man’s presence. ‘Not sure he’ll do that, but it might be worth a try.’
Pompeianus strode into the room and took a seat a safe distance from the large black dog. ‘What’s happened? Why is he not with his master?’
Rufinus let out a long, slow breath. ‘I’m not sure where to start.’
‘At the beginning,’ the Syrian suggested, ‘but as succinctly as possible’ he added with a smile. ‘Salient points only.’
Rufinus nodded and collapsed into a seat next to Acheron, who watched Pompeianus with glowering, dangerous eyes. The medicus shuffled into the room with his bag and approached the dog gingerly. Rufinus raised his eyebrows.
‘You can speak freely in front of him, young man.’
As the servant began to mix a draught of pain-killing drugs for the dog, Rufinus stroked its head soothingly. ‘I did as we discussed and sold out Fastus.’
Pompeianus nodded. ‘I’ve heard about the man and his unexpected peaceful demise. Lucky devil, I’d say.’
Rufinus pursed his lips. ‘Nothing lucky about it. Fastus was certainly undercover here in the villa, but he was working for the Frumentarii.’
The general’s eyes jerked sharply upwards. ‘Go on.’
‘Dis, of course. He took a bit of an exception to my interference with his courier, so he sent me back to Rome. Problem is: while he was in the villa trying to identify possible traitors flocking to your wife, Perennis and Paternus are both convinced of a plot brewing, so they sent me straight back.’
‘And Dis?’
Rufinus took a deep, angry breath. ‘Paternus sent a cavalry detachment out and removed him from the picture, leaving evidence of his imperial connections. The damn prefect is losing his mind, murdering the emperor’s own men.’
Pompeianus nodded. ‘You will now understand, perhaps, why I have not been too pro-active on behalf of Perennis. I’m not comfortable being a
piece
in the game, regardless of the player. In a way, he’s done you a favour though, as you’ll be almost untouchable now, trustworthy to the hilt as far as Phaestor’s concerned. Make the most of it while your freedom lasts. Given this turn of events, security on the villa will now clamp shut like the jaws on your canine friend there.’
Rufinus felt the dog flinch beneath his fingers as the servant cleaned the wound. He resumed his soothing strokes.
‘What will they do, d’you think?’
‘Phaestor will seek permission to double the guard numbers. The empress will refuse the financial outlay and, after a brief argument, they’ll compromise on the hiring of a dozen new guards and increased shifts.’
He leaned forward. ‘Phaestor will also want to interview all existing guards and servants to convince himself of their loyalty. I suspect the number of guards with duties in the core of the villa will drop sharply, while the perimeter will be almost permanently under observation. Chances are that you’ll be on the inside, and despite your misgivings, you might want to thank Paternus for that.’
Rufinus sighed and leaned over to comfort Acheron as he shuddered once again at the medicus nervously beginning to stitch the wound. ‘What of Saoterus? He’s still here, I presume?’
‘Yes, and with the patience of a vestal, it appears. My beloved wife has not yet granted him an audience. Two days of sitting around in almost total seclusion in the water villa. I know how he feels.’ Pompeianus gave a small smile. ‘I think that after the coming shake-up, she’ll want to see him and get him out of the way as fast as possible.’
Rufinus nodded and clutched Acheron tightly as the medicus tugged sharply on the last stitch. ‘It seems Paternus has his eye on those who surround the emperor, including master Saoterus. I fear that he is in no less danger back in the palace than he is here. After all, if the prefect will set his men on murdering the emperor’s agents, a mere freedman would make an easy target. Perhaps you could speak to him?’
Pompeianus shook his head gently. ‘Two men both in virtual solitary confinement within the same prison have little chance of meeting.’
The pair fell silent, a quiet broken suddenly as Acheron yelped in pain and issued a low growl at the man padding and binding his back end.
The servant leaned back and held up both hands.
‘There, we’re done.’
XIX – Resolution
AS the morning sunlight burned away the last of the white frost, Rufinus strode across the triangular court and to the office of Vettius. Somehow, the events of the morning had eased his return, not because of the lack of Dis as an obstacle, but because of the change in his attitude it had wrought. Walking along that access drive this morning, he had been cold, tired and sore from his wounds, unsure as to his future, his nerves making him shiver uncontrollably.