The Leopard Sword: Empire IV (36 page)

‘Assistant Procurator Petrus. Forgive me if my approach is a little blunt, but I’ve got bigger problems than a bit of petty theft to be dealing with. I promised the centurion here one good punch, just to let you know who you’re dealing with now, although I have to admit I have enough sympathy with his view of you that I was tempted to let him replace the fist with his dagger, and remove you as a problem with one flick of his wrist. You’re in army hands now. I could have your throat cut here and now and never fear any consequence. My men would rip through your pitiful collection of thugs and murderers like fire through a cornfield, and I could only take pride in the act of cleaning such criminal filth from the streets of Tungrorum. And don’t trouble yourself with denials; your arms speak clearly enough of your status in the city.’

He waited for the wheezing prisoner to respond, and Petrus studied him from beneath half-closed eyelids before answering, his voice strained from the effects of Julius’s gut punch.

‘As you say, Tribune, my tattoos do rather betray the way I’ve chosen to make my living.’ He looked down at the artwork that decorated both of his arms. ‘When I was young these were a good way to intimidate the people around me, and now . . . now they serve to remind me of where I came from, I suppose. I grew up on the street, Tribune, and the first thing I learned there was that gangs are like weeds, always there no matter how hard you work to clear them away. And if you clear mine away there’ll be another crop within weeks, along with all the usual fighting that accompanies such a struggle for power. There would inevitably be innocents caught up in the chaos, but then I’m sure you know that or you’d already have done exactly as you threaten. But to return to the apparent case against me . . . petty theft, Tribune? You have me at a disadvantage. Since I was pulled from my bed at dawn I’ve not spoken to another person, and so I have no knowledge of the matter you’re describing.’

Scaurus shook his head with a wry smile.

‘Of course. And you, the quiet man behind your procurator, silently and efficiently getting on with the business of the empire.’ He stood up, taking the scroll from the desk and carrying it as he went to stand before the prisoner. ‘See this?’ Unrolling the paper he held it up before the other man. ‘Procurator Albanus – I should say ex-procurator, of course – has confessed to a rather large fraud against the imperial grain supply. These numbers detail the profits he’s made over the last two years, profits he tells me he has shared with a shadowy figure he refuses to identify.’

The assistant procurator turned a glassy stare on him, his face utterly immobile as he recovered his customary reserve.

‘Fraud, Tribune? Procurator Albanus? I can scarcely believe it. And how much?’ He peered at the paper, his eyebrows rising in apparent amazement. ‘Surely that’s not possible? Those sums are truly shocking. . .’

He shook his head and lapsed back into silence, eyeing Scaurus with the same neutral expression. The tribune stared back for a long moment before turning away, talking as he rounded the desk and sat down.

‘Don’t worry, Petrus, I won’t have a confession beaten out of you. Not that I’d hesitate to have Julius set about you with enough vigour to get the shit running down your legs if I thought a nice quick admission of guilt would result, and not that he’d hesitate to beat you half to death.’ Petrus flicked a glance at the glowering centurion, who was clenching his fists so tightly the knuckles were bone white. ‘I am, however, still a man of principle myself, and if you’re the man I think you are then you could probably hold out long enough that I could never be sure if it was guilt speaking or simply the need to stop the violence.’

Petrus regarded him levelly, his expression still steadfastly unchanging, and in that instant Scaurus knew he was guilty.

‘No, I’ve got a better idea. I’ll be assuming the temporary role of procurator until a replacement for Albanus can be found and make his way here, and in the intervening period your services will not be required. You can consider yourself dismissed from your position as of now.’ Petrus bowed his head slightly and turned away, waiting for his guards to lead him from the room, but Scaurus gestured to the pile of paperwork on his desk. ‘As procurator, I am of course now responsible for the maintenance of order within the city, and I have to say that order seems to have suffered rather significantly under the auspices of the last man to have held the position. In order to ensure the upkeep of public decorum I shall therefore be closing all brothels and unlicensed drinking establishments immediately. All licensed establishments will now receive army protection against the extortion of what I believe is laughably termed “protection money”, with soldiers posted outside their doors night and day. And I will be making it very clear that I am doing this as punishment for previous misdemeanours, Petrus, with your name prominent in the official pronouncements. I’d imagine that this will attract a good deal of interest from your fellow members of Tungrorum’s criminal fraternity, given that I’ll be closing off their supply of revenue at the same time, and to facilitate their interest I’m going to place you under house arrest. My men will make sure you remain in the Blue Boar, but may not be able to deter your former partners in crime once they realise you’re the cause of their misfortune . . . unless, of course, there’s anything you’d like to share with me?’

Petrus’s face remained as immobile as ever, and after a moment Scaurus waved a hand in dismissal, watching with a look of disgust as he was marched out at spear point. Shaking his head wearily he raised his voice to summon Sextus Frontinius, who entered by the same door that the prisoner had been escorted through, saluting as he limped into the room.

‘Tribune?’

Scaurus stood, collecting together the papers arrayed on the desk before him.

‘Here.’ He passed the documents to his deputy. ‘These are the warrants you’ll require to shut down the brothels and unlicensed beer shops, and here are the records we recovered from Albanus’s hiding place. If you’d be so good as to give the latter to one of your better standard bearers, I think it’s high time the emperor’s money was repatriated from whichever of the local money lenders are currently making it sweat for its previous owners. Tell your men not to take no for an answer. Any failure to pay up promptly is to be treated as an opportunity for swift and uncompromising action, and I want that money counted and underground in the pay chests before dark. Who will you get to calculate the amounts?’

Frontinius smiled, lifting the stack of paper.

‘Who will I get to work out how much money is owed to the throne by a collection of fraudsters? Morban, of course. He’ll be driven by jealousy, greed, and an eye to that elusive golden opportunity, to find every last sestertius. And then I’ll have his numbers checked by two of his colleagues, just to make sure he hasn’t actually found a way to scrape a little piece off the plate and into his purse.’

He left, and Scaurus called for Marcus and Caninus, greeting the latter a good deal more warmly than had been the case a day before.

‘Well done, Prefect, you’ve uncovered theft of a scale I wouldn’t have believed if I hadn’t seen the evidence with my own eyes.’

Caninus bowed, his face still sombre at the events which had played out before them.

‘I find it hard to take much pleasure from being proved right, Tribune, but as you say, at least we have the perpetrators, and the proceeds will soon be returned to their rightful owner. What will you do with the money?’

Scaurus shrugged.

‘The simplest expedient would seem to be dropping the problem on the nearest legionary legatus. The commander at Fortress Bonna would doubtless find a good use for that sort of funding, given that he’s responsible for keeping the German tribes quiet. Once it’s in his hands I really don’t care whether he send it to Rome, buries it for a rainy day or just showers half the tribal chiefs in the north with it to keep them at daggers drawn with the other half, just as long as it’s off my hands.’

Caninus shared a smile with him.

‘That sort of money will always attract the wrong kind of attention. You’ll have it away to the Rhenus as soon as you can, I take it?’

The tribune ran a hand through his hair.

‘Mithras, but I need to bathe.’ He nodded distractedly. ‘Yes, I’ll have my First Cohort march it along the road to the east just as soon as we’ve got all the money there is to be had. Then we can turn our attention back to your old adversary, Obduro.’

Caninus dipped his head approvingly.

‘And if I might make a suggestion?’

‘Yes, Prefect?’

‘A rider arrived late last night to warn me that there is a grain convoy on the road from Beech Forest. Almost two hundred carts full of grain, enough to make a tempting target for Obduro. If he knows as much about our business as he purports, then he’ll know that the convoy will be coming past the forest later today. Perhaps it would be an idea to send a good-sized force west to meet them, and to deter any idea of snapping up that much grain?’

Scaurus nodded wearily.

‘It will also be a good chance for my first spear to get his men out onto the ground and make it clear that we rule here, not some ragtag band of robbers and deserters. I’ll have him march west in enough force to put any such idea out of Obduro’s mind.’ He stood, indicating to the two men that the meeting was at an end. As they made for the door he frowned for a moment, then came to a swift decision. ‘One more thing, Prefect?’ Caninus turned back with a questioning expression, Marcus waiting at his shoulder. ‘I think you’ve proved your bona fides more than adequately over the last day, and under some personal pressure, to boot. With your permission I’ll relieve you of the company of my centurion. I’m sure he’s finding the task of watching you just as onerous as it must be to find yourself under constant scrutiny. And besides, I have something else in mind for him, something better suited to his talents.’

Caninus opened his hands in agreement.

‘Having Centurion Corvus helping me was never onerous, Tribune, far from it. His idea to use your wounded men to gather intelligence as to the grain store’s activities was masterful. I will, however, happily relinquish his services if you have a better use for them. And I stand ready to provide any assistance that might be useful in this new task.’ He raised an enquiring eyebrow, his mouth twisting in a gentle smile. ‘My tracker Arabus, perhaps?’

Scaurus shook his head wryly.

‘You’re too sharp for me, Prefect Caninus, far too sharp. I’ll leave it up to Centurion Corvus to decide what help he might need. Now, gentlemen, if you’ll excuse me? The night’s activities have left me in need of a damned good sweat.’

Julius walked alongside Petrus as the soldiers escorted him back to the Blue Boar, one hand resting lightly on the handle of his dagger. As they turned the corner into the street in which the brothel stood the previously silent gang leader stopped walking and turned to his escort with a wry smile.

‘If you’re thinking of gutting me then this is your last chance, Centurion. Wouldn’t you just love to open me up and leave me to die here, slowly and in public? I wonder what’s stopping you?’

The big Tungrian shook his head dismissively.

‘I gave the tribune my word not to deal with you myself. I keep to my word.’

Petrus grinned evilly.

‘You keep to your word? Despite my provocation? House arrest in the Boar won’t be so bad, you know. I’ve a ready supply of wine and whores to pass the time, and enough gold to keep my men happy until you fools have marched away and left me to continue my business as if you were never here. There’s one whore in particular I plan to ride on a regular basis while I’m cooped up waiting for that moment, and every time I fuck her from behind with a good handful of her hair in my fist. I’ll shout your name just to remind her what she’s missing!’ He squinted up at the seething centurion and nodded his head in apparent admiration. ‘You really do keep your word, don’t y—’

A lightning-fast punch sent Petrus staggering back onto the cobbles, blinking and snorting blood from his nose, and Julius pulled the dagger from his belt and stepped over the fallen gang leader, squatting over him where he lay.

‘Tribune Scaurus promised me
two
punches, the second to be delivered along with this message. If you set foot outside the whorehouse the guards have orders to spear you, and I’ll make sure that the men set to watch you are the nastiest we have. But they’ll have orders from me to do no more than cripple you and then call for me. And when I arrive you and I will spend your last moments in the company of my little friend here.’ He showed Petrus the dagger’s blade, twisting it to catch the early morning sun and send a pattern of sunlight sparkling from its rough-sharpened blade, then he lifted the terrified man’s tunic and put the dagger’s point under his testicles, prodding at the soft skin with a snarl of barely controlled anger. ‘I’ll have your fucking manhood off and make you watch while the dogs eat your sausage.’ Petrus nodded slowly, staring up into the Tungrian’s enraged eyes and knowing that his only option was to remain silent. ‘And one more thing, the tribune told me to tell you that Albanus will be under a similar house arrest to yours, and that should anything unfortunate happen to him I’ll be free to come for you with licence to inflict whatever punishment I think fit. And trust me, Petrus, I can be surprisingly inventive when it comes to men like you.’

Marcus took his leave of the prefect and walked back to the hospital, where Felicia had not long since started her working day. Her Tungrian escorts saluted as he walked into the surgery and he returned the gesture, temporarily dismissing them with a waved hand. They went off around the corner to give the couple some privacy, one man nudging the other once they were safely out of sight, first miming the doctor’s swollen belly and then winking at his mate, bending his legs and pretending to take a handful of a woman’s hair from behind. Marcus ignored their poorly muffled snorts of mirth and held his wife against his body for a long moment before releasing her, smiling down into her sleepy eyes. The doctor in his wife took charge, untying the bandage wrapped about his face and examining the bruising around his jaw line with a critical eye.