by Peake, R. W.
Gaius looked confused, but nodded. “I remember.”
“Did I tell you about how the Egyptians hunt crocodiles?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Crocodiles are mean bastards, but they’re also sneaky. They lie submerged just below the surface of the water, where the animals that come to drink can’t see them, then as soon as the poor beast lowers his head to drink, they spring out of the water, quick as Pan. I saw them swallow good-sized goats in one gulp. So to hunt them, that’s exactly what the hunters do, they put a goat on the riverbank, tie him down, and wait for the crocodile.” I made sure he was looking at me as I finished. “That's what I want you to be: the goat tied down for the crocodile. You're going to go into the city, and let anyone who will listen know that you just won a year’s pay at dice, and want to celebrate. You're going to go to The Rudis, buy everyone there a round of drink, have a couple of drinks, then stagger off to Venus’ Gates.” I held up a wax tablet that I had worked on earlier, containing a sketch of the layout of the city streets. “I want you to follow this route that I've drawn out here. You’re going to be followed by me, Balbus, Scribonius, Trebellius, Vellusius, and your friend Lupus.”
Gaius took the tablet to study it. I saw Scribonius with his frown, and while I was sure I knew what he was going to say, I waited for him to speak.
“Do you really think that’s wise, Titus? You, and I for that matter, will stick out like a whore among the Vestals. Celer is sure to spot us.”
“That’s why I selected this route,” I replied, feeling a bit smug. “If you look, you’ll see that most of the way, Gaius will be taking alleys and not the main streets, which are narrower. I scouted it today, and we'll be following on the rooftops, jumping from one building to the next.”
I took the tablet from Gaius to point out two different spots on it to Scribonius.
“These two places he'll have to cross one of the main streets, and those would be too far to jump. But I took two planks and put them on the roof at those points. When we get there, all we have to do is lift the plank and drop it across, then we can cross over and keep an eye on Gaius.”
Scribonius let out a low whistle, which made me feel proud of myself. “I have to say that I’m impressed. But it will still be dangerous for you, Gaius.”
Gaius nodded his understanding. “I know, but unless we do something, more men are going to end up with their throats cut. I don’t see where there's much choice, and I'm the logical one to do it. He knows me by sight now, and I'm sure he'll believe that I won. I was bragging about how good a gambler I am when we met.”
That was a surprise to me, and I looked at Gaius carefully, thinking that he was much shrewder than I had given him credit for. It was almost like he knew that I would come up with this plan, but I did not voice my suspicions. Scribonius spoke up again, turning my attention away from Gaius. “Are you sure that Gaius should say he won so much money? If anything, that might scare Celer and Censorius off. They’ve been very careful only to go after men who have won a decent amount, but nothing as large as what you want Gaius to claim.”
“That’s true,” Balbus interjected. “There was a man in the 7th who won a thousand sesterces, but he was untouched.”
“I know, and it is a risk,” I acknowledged. “But I'm gambling on two things, if you'll pardon the pun. The first is that while it’s larger than they've normally taken, I think it’s just large enough to tempt them but not too large to scare them off. And that's because of Gaius. I think they’ll look at him, see how young he is, and think he’s green and easy pickings.” I gave Gaius a smile. “But they'll find out the hard way that looks are deceiving, right, nephew? You’re a veteran of two campaigns in Parthia.”
“That I am, Uncle. Just make sure that you don’t lose sight of me, regardless.”
The trick was to get in place overlooking The Rudis without being seen. In order to do that, we left after dark, splitting up a short distance away from the wineshop. I had described the building that appeared to be a warehouse of some sort, with a stack of boxes lined against a wall that would allow us to climb to the roof. From that spot, we could lie on our stomachs to peer down on the front of the wineshop. Gaius was going to come to the shop, acting as if he already had ingested a good bit of wine, then make his boast about his winnings. He would spend perhaps a third of a watch in The Rudis; not long after he arrived, he would also let it be known that he planned on spending some of his winnings at his new favorite place, Venus’ Gates. Hopefully, this would give Celer time to either slip out or send men to a dark spot and wait for Gaius to emerge from the shop. We each made it to the spot without any incident, settling in to wait.
Not long after, Gaius came down the street, weaving so convincingly that it prompted Scribonius to ask, “Are you sure he didn’t drink more than he was supposed to?”
“I told him to rinse his mouth out with wine, but to take no more than a swallow,” I whispered back. “I’m sure he did exactly that.”
Still, Scribonius had planted a seed of worry in my mind, but there was nothing to be done about it at that point, so we just watched as he entered the shop. Even through the closed door, we could hear him shout something, which was met by cheers by the other customers. As we lay on our stomachs, I could clearly feel Balbus next to me, chewing on something in his mind.
“What’s bothering you?”
“I haven’t said a word,” he said, sounding defensive even with a whisper.
“I know, but you’re not saying it very loudly,” I replied.
I was rewarded with a quiet snort that I knew was Balbus’ version of a laugh. “If it’s not Celer that tries to take Gaius, how are we going to know that he’s behind it?”
I considered for a moment, then said, “Because if it’s not Celer, I’ll rely on you to make whoever it is to talk. I know you’re still disappointed you didn’t get to do what you wanted with Deukalos, so I promise that this time I won’t stop you, even if he tells everything.”
I could tell this made him happy, his teeth shining in the darkness as he smiled.
“But I hate to tell you, I’m sure that it will be Celer.”
“Why?”
“Because Gaius knows him, and Celer will be sure that he wouldn’t suspect him of any treachery. In fact, I expect Celer to offer to walk with Gaius over to Venus’ Gates, then wait for a dark spot before he makes his move. If Gaius were to run into a stranger, it would be natural to assume that he'll be on his guard. Celer will think walking with Gaius will put him at ease.”
“Then why did you get my hopes up?” Balbus grumbled, and I stifled a laugh.
I shot a glance over at Scribonius, who was lying on the other side of me and gave me a wry shake of his head.
“Balbus, I truly hope that you get to turn someone’s ball sac into a coin purse before you die, or you will be a very unhappy man,” was all Scribonius said before we quieted back down to wait.
Just to be safe, I sent Vellusius, Herennius, and Gaius’ tentmate, Lupus, to watch the back door of the wineshop, in the event that Celer or whoever he had selected for this job slipped out the back. Despite thinking it unlikely, I had to account for the possibility that Celer would opt to find his own spot for ambushing Gaius, although I did not see how Celer could be sure that he had selected the right spot. While there was an obvious path to Venus’ Gates, drunken men are anything but logical, so Celer would run a risk that he picked the wrong place if he opted to lie in wait. We could hear raucous laughter coming from within the shop, and men and a few women made their way to see what was causing such merriment. Almost all of the arriving customers were off-duty Legionaries, the sight of them striking me with a sudden worry. What if another man came in with the same or similar story as Gaius, and Celer selected him instead, for whatever reason? I knew that this was the only chance we had at this; it would undoubtedly arouse Celer’s suspicions if Gaius were to show up again making the same claim. I supposed that we could have him start over a
gain with Censorius, except the risk would be much higher. I offered up a prayer to the gods that no such thing happened, but it preyed on my mind the rest of the time we waited. Men left the shop, each of them in varying stages of inebriation; some with their choice of woman for the evening on their arm. Then, shortly before the time we were expecting Gaius to make his announcement that he was heading for Venus’ Gates, two men approached the shop. Squinting because of the darkness, I saw that one of them looked familiar, more by the shape of his body than his face, which could barely be seen in the gloom.
“Is that Censorius?” Scribonius asked, and my heart skipped a beat as I recognized that it was indeed Celer’s cousin, accompanied by a man who looked vaguely familiar, but who was clearly a former Legionary.
“Yes it is,” I whispered grimly, realizing that somehow Celer had gotten a message to his cousin that they had a fat hen for the plucking, although it would not have been hard.
Obviously, one of the men we saw leaving had gone to fetch Censorius and, as they entered The Rudis, I remembered that I had seen the man with Censorius leaving the shop shortly before, except that he had done so with a couple other men. This was going to make things more difficult, but it could not be helped.
“Get ready to move,” I whispered to the others, then gave a soft whistle to alert the men who were watching the back door.
As I felt the tension mounting, for the first time I thought of Gaius’ mother, my sister Valeria, wondering what she would do to me if she knew the danger I was putting her son in. I shook my head, trying to clear the thought from my mind, knowing that it would do no good to dwell on such things. Moments passed, during which my heart, and I suspected the others’ as well, would start hammering whenever the door opened, but it was never Gaius. Neither was it Celer, nor Censorius for that matter, making the tension mount with every breath. The time we had arranged for Gaius to leave had long since passed, and I was beginning to think that something had actually happened inside the shop.
“What do we do?” I asked Scribonius. “Should we go down and see what’s happening?”
He did not answer for a moment, then shook his head. “We need to trust him. If we go down now and show up, it will ruin everything that we’ve planned.”
“It’s not that I don’t trust him.” I must admit I was a bit irritated. “I just am worried that maybe Celer and Censorius did something to him inside.”
My friend gave me a long look, then sighed. “If that's the case, then it will prove that Celer and Censorius are behind these killings.”
“That’s not going to help Gaius any,” I whispered angrily.
He opened his mouth to reply, but then Balbus gave me an elbow in the ribs, and I turned to see that the door had opened, with Gaius stepping outside, the light from inside the shop clearly illuminating him weaving, seemingly about to fall. A hand reached out to steady him, but we could not see who it belonged to at first, since Gaius’ body blocked our vision. Gaius took a step out of the doorway, then we could see that the hand helping to keep Gaius upright belonged to Celer. Following close behind was Censorius, with the third man who had accompanied Censorius back to the shop there as well. Staggering arm in arm, with Celer on one side, then Censorius moving to support Gaius from the other, the four of them began making their way to Venus’ Gates. Or at least, that was what Celer and Censorius wanted Gaius to believe.
The four men turned down the first street, like I had instructed Gaius, and once they turned the corner we rose, crossing over the roof to jump across to the next building several feet from the edge, facing the street in order to remain undetected. We could hear Gaius talking, his voice slurred and high-pitched as he talked about one of the women at Venus’ Gates. At first, I wondered why he was talking so loud, then I understood that he was trying to cover the sound of our movement across the roofs. Paralleling their line of travel, we came to the next point where Gaius was to turn, and I heard Celer’s voice.
“Let’s go this way; it’s shorter.”
“But I always go this way,” Gaius said, the slur in his voice so pronounced that I was beginning to wonder if he might be truly drunk and not pretending.
“This way is better,” Celer insisted.
I gave Scribonius an alarmed look, because the way he was indicating would take them on the far side of a wide street, not where I had a plank waiting and would be much too far to jump. It was at this point my nephew showed how quickly he could think on his feet.
“Why do you want me to go that way?” There was no mistaking the belligerence in Gaius’ tone, with the added inflection of the drunk who was not getting his way and was about to become combative. “I said I always go this way. If you’re my friend, you’ll let me go this way. If not, you can go fuck yourself.”
“Easy there, young Porcinus.” Celer’s voice was smooth, but he had been in my Cohort for a long enough time that I could detect the anger lying just below the surface. “We meant no harm. If you want to go this way, go this way. We’ll go with you to make sure that nothing happens to you.”
“You’re a good man, Celer. I'm sorry for my harsh words.”
“That’s quite all right, Porcinus. No offense taken.”
With that crisis resolved, the men continued on, while I breathed a bit easier. We reached the spot where a plank was waiting. After letting them pass by, I lifted it into place and we crossed over one at a time. It creaked under my weight; for a moment, I was scared that it would collapse, but we all made it across. We were now approaching a corner, where Gaius was to turn down the narrowest, darkest, most deserted alley on the route, and my guess was that this would be the place that Celer would try something. I whispered to Scribonius and Balbus to be alert while we crept diagonally across the roof, positioning us partway down the alley, and waiting for Gaius and the others to make the turn. Crouching down, I slowly peered over the edge of the roof so that I could see them approach. We had not worn our helmets, meaning I did not have to worry about the silhouette of my crest, and their eyes were not turned upwards anyway.
Censorius and the other man had dropped behind Gaius, while Celer was walking alongside my nephew, telling him some story about our time in Dyrrhachium during the civil war. I had just enough time to hear what he was saying, realizing that what he was recounting was actually something that had happened to me, when we took the fort from Quintus Albinus, the same Quintus Albinus who was now a Hastatus Prior in the Tenth Cohort of my Legion. To hear him tell it, he was the one to lead the attack and accept the surrender of Albinus, forcing me to bite back a curse. While he talked, Celer draped his left arm about Gaius’ shoulders, a seemingly innocent gesture, yet it was an obvious signal to Censorius and the other man, who suddenly leaped forward, each of them grabbing Gaius by the arm.
“Now!”
I roared the command, then using the men as a softer spot to land than on the ground, we fell on top of them. I aimed for Celer, knowing that I might land on Gaius as well, but it could not be helped. However, my nephew had reacted just as quickly, wrenching free while turning swiftly, pulling his dagger. We had brought our swords, but this was not the time to use them, counting on surprise and the crashing weight of our bodies. I struck Celer just as he was beginning to react to the sense of imminent danger, my boots striking him squarely in the back, my weight driving him to the ground. Celer was lucky in that the alley was unpaved, making the ground soft, except that from the stench it was clear that the moisture came from people urinating there. I heard the breath whoosh from his body when he slammed into the dirt, then he lay there motionless, stunned from the shock of my more than 200 pounds falling on him. Turning about, I saw Balbus and Scribonius in much the same position, pinning their men down, and while Censorius was squirming, trying to free himself from the weight of Scribonius’ body, the third man was completely motionless. I saw the glint of a wet blade in Balbus’ hand when he wiped it on the man’s tunic. I frowned; it had not been part of the plan to kill them unless absolute
ly necessary, but as I thought about it, I shrugged it off, since Balbus’ man was not important. It was Censorius and Celer that mattered. Celer moaned, beginning to twist under my knees, trying to get his face out of the muck, so I eased some of my weight off his back, but I kept one hand firmly on his neck. With the pressure reduced, Celer was able to turn his head. His face was covered with stinking mud, his eyes two white orbs while he struggled to focus on the face of the man sitting on top of him.
“Pullus,” he gasped. “By all the gods, what do you think you’re doing? Get off me!”
“That was my nephew you were about to murder,” I said quietly.
I did not think it possible, but his eyes widened even further, and even in the dark, I could see the shock written on his face. Or perhaps I was imagining it because I wanted it to be true.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he spluttered. “I was just helping the young lad because he drank too much.”
“Then why did you have your dagger out?”
I pointed to the weapon that had been knocked out of his hand when I landed on him and was lying just inches away from his outstretched hand.
Before he could say anything, I added, “And we were watching from above and we saw your cousin and your other man grab him from behind. Were they trying to help him too?”
“Yes! I swear it, Pullus! I meant him no harm!”
“You can tell that to the Praetor. Maybe he’ll believe you, but I doubt it. Not after his torture detachment gets the truth out of you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You know damn well what I'm talking about. You and your cocksucking cousin here have murdered more than 20 men over the last three months.”
“That’s not true,” he protested. “I had nothing to do with those deaths!”
“Like I said, you can tell it to the Praetor.” I grabbed a handful of cloth, hauling him to his feet, which was a chore because of his weight, but I was determined I would not show that it was a strain. Balbus was now helping Scribonius and they pulled Censorius to his feet as he spat gobs of filthy muck out of his mouth, cursing as he did so. Gaius was still holding his dagger, and I looked over to him.
