Agent of Rome: The Far Shore

by Brown, Nick

  ‘Himself?’ interjected Cassius. ‘What about this Mordanticus?’

  ‘Died a while back. Kicked in the head by his horse. Carnifex decided the chief collector of taxes – a man named Lafrenius Leon – should replace him. Leon is governor in name only; he is quite happy to stay in his villa and leave Carnifex in charge. Mordanticus only maintained a small staff anyway, and most of them have gone now too.’

  ‘What a mess,’ said Cassius.

  ‘The local peasants have never had it easy, but they at least used to be able to make some money from their own little bits of land. The tax rate on produce was a quarter for more than two centuries. Mordanticus raised it to a third and now Carnifex has made it one half. So as if it wasn’t bad enough to turn the Maseene against us, now the peasants hate Rome too. I’ve tried to tell him how it will end but he never listens to me. He never did, actually. He said I’d always side with them because I’m one of them.’

  Eborius looked around the group as if he was confessing something. ‘I come from a village in the mountains to the south. My mother was Maseene.’

  He paused for another swig of wine.

  ‘Do you know we once had one of the best-functioning assemblies in the province? People used to vote. We had a strong court too. And the Maseene worked on the estates in the summer months. Gods, it seems like another world now.’

  ‘Surely someone could have gone over Carnifex’s head?’ said Cassius. ‘To the provincial administration in Cyrene?’

  ‘They have their own problems to deal with. You must have heard what the Great Earthquake did to the rest of Cyrenaica. In any case, I’ve written to anyone and everyone, the governor and the prefect of the Third Augustan included. Six months ago the prefect assigned a tribune to investigate. Carnifex sent him back a week later with a bulging bag of gold coins and a slave girl. As long as our esteemed centurion keeps order – and enough money flowing up to the right people – nobody cares.’

  Cassius noted how taken aback Asdribar and Annia were by this. Hearing how Carnifex had established this personal fiefdom had shocked him; revelations of corruption in the army were less of a surprise.

  ‘And this situation with the two centuries?’ he said. ‘Presumably Carnifex forced the men to join him?’

  Eborius smiled bitterly. ‘He didn’t have to. My legionaries get a regular wage – when Leon sees fit to pass on the money, that is – but Carnifex’s soldiers collect the taxes and he allows them all manner of kickbacks. The delightful Optio Procyon, for example, doesn’t take coin. He prefers an hour or two with a man’s daughter, and he’s none too picky about her age. Carnifex is a master at finding money, even in an area run as chaotically as Darnis. On top of what he takes off the taxes there is a constant flow of ‘gifts’ to the mansion. He even claims pay for three full centuries from the coffers in Cyrene.’

  ‘And this afternoon, in the square?’

  As he spoke, Cassius saw the curious look on Annia’s face; he’d chosen not to tell her the gruesome details.

  ‘Cutting out tongues is his latest tactic,’ Eborius replied. ‘That man was a peasant. I expect one of his own overheard him and sold him out. It’s one of the few ways they can still make money.’

  Annia decided she would have a drink after all. Asdribar topped up the other glasses.

  Eborius continued: ‘That was nothing, by the way – today. You should see what he does with the Maseene he has taken to the mansion.’

  He glanced at Annia.

  ‘Don’t halt on my account, Centurion,’ she said.

  ‘Let’s put it this way – crucifixion is the best they can hope for.’

  ‘By all the gods,’ said Cassius. ‘If money’s all this man is interested in, can’t we just bribe him to secure his cooperation?’

  ‘Possibly. But if Carnifex finds out you’re with the Service, he’ll be a lot more interested in you than this man Dio. Sure you want that kind of attention?’

  ‘Point taken.’

  ‘I will give you what help I can. But if you want my advice, you’ll leave as soon as the ship is ready.’ He addressed Asdribar: ‘Captain, I’ll send someone down to you at the first hour. He’ll take you to a man who can help with your repairs.’

  Eborius put down his glass. He looked ready to leave.

  ‘Centurion,’ said Annia. ‘Do you think this man Dio is here?’

  ‘I don’t know, miss, but we have always had our share of unsavoury characters here in Darnis. Amongst those that have stayed on, many have no choice. They are exiles.’

  ‘There are exiles here?’ asked Cassius.

  ‘Of course. Because Darnis is so remote, it has always been used as a destination for those banished from Rome.’

  ‘I didn’t know that,’ said Cassius.

  Annia had noticed the gleam in his eye. ‘You mean—’

  ‘Yes. The Service might have investigated some of these people – the issues that led to their exile. Your father may have been involved.’

  Cassius turned to Eborius. ‘Thank you, Centurion. You have been most helpful.’

  XXI

  Eborius was true to his word. One of his legionaries arrived at the harbour not long after dawn to collect Asdribar, and was also carrying a message for Cassius. The centurion had arranged a meeting with someone who could help them gain access to the local records; the legionary would take Cassius there before escorting Asdribar to Darnis’s sole remaining supplier of timber.

  Cassius decided he would need both Simo and Indavara and took considerable pleasure in rousing them. The sailors had shown little mercy the previous night and it was hard to tell who was in the worse state. Indavara’s eyes seemed to be glued shut, while Simo – for the first time Cassius could recall – had failed to get up before his master.

  ‘Look at you two,’ said Cassius as they walked past the dye works into the town. ‘A lot of use you’ll be to me today.’

  ‘I really can’t apologise enough, sir,’ said Simo.

  ‘They just wouldn’t stop,’ mumbled Indavara, head down.

  ‘They certainly didn’t stop singing,’ added Annia. To allow her and Clara some time off the ship, Cassius had agreed that the pair of them could accompany Asdribar, who’d also brought Korinth along.

  ‘Never drink with sailors,’ advised Cassius. ‘They down even more than soldiers.’

  ‘Bloody right,’ said Korinth.

  ‘No chance, sir,’ retorted Noster, the friendly legionary from the Second Century. Though he was at least forty and had lost most of his wispy brown hair, his face had a keen, youthful quality. Given the circumstances, Cassius imagined the few soldiers who’d remained loyal to Eborius were probably as virtuous a group as one might find in the army.

  ‘There’s only one way to find out for sure,’ said Asdribar. ‘A competition. What’s the local stuff like, Noster?’

  ‘A bit sharp but good and strong.’

  ‘Can’t we talk about something else?’ pleaded Indavara.

  The centre of Darnis was almost deserted. Just two of the market stalls were occupied and the only other people in view were an old woman brushing her courtyard and a pair of legionaries with another man on the far side of the square.

  ‘They with your lot?’ Cassius asked Noster. He didn’t know what Eborius had disclosed to the legionary, but had decided to stick strictly to the cover story while with the others. It wasn’t too hard to act the curious visitor.

  ‘That’s right, sir, they’re with the Second. Generally we look after the town; the First patrol the countryside. We usually keep ourselves to ourselves.’

  ‘But not yesterday.’

  ‘No,’ replied Noster gravely. ‘Things have been difficult these last few months. We don’t all approve of the tactics certain people use.’

  Noster had a figure ‘II’ sewn on to the sleeve of his tunic in yellow thread. He was one of the least muscular soldiers Cassius had ever seen but walked with the effortless stride of a man who could march all day without brea
king a sweat. He looked across the square at the other fellow with the legionaries: a lean, balding individual in a white cloak edged with purple.

  ‘And that’s our so-called governor.’

  ‘Lafrenius Leon,’ said Cassius.

  ‘None other.’

  ‘Was that the forum?’ asked Annia as Noster led them along the avenue to the west. Cassius now noted from a bronze sign that it was the Via Cyrenaica.

  ‘Indeed, miss,’ replied the legionary. ‘I remember when it was rare to find fewer than two hundred people gathered there of a morning: councillors, clerks, priests, patrons and their retinues. They used to post announcements on the message board every day. I enjoyed that duty. Saved me going to the temple to see family and friends.’

  ‘You still have family here now?’ Annia asked him.

  ‘Just me and my wife.’

  ‘What’s that smell?’ asked Korinth.

  ‘See the aqueduct?’ The legionary pointed to an area of higher ground three or four miles to the south-west. The pale, arched structure stretched away south towards the interior. ‘Looks all right from here but no water flows. Sewers are clogged up. Be grateful it’s not summer.’

  The section of the Via Cyrenaica closest to the square had clearly once been porticoed, but every last column now lay on the ground, poking out on to the street from under broken roof slabs.

  ‘That’s new,’ observed Noster. Scrawled on one of the columns in red paint was a line of Latin: THE GODS WILL PUNISH THEM.

  Beyond the fallen portico, about twenty people were gathered around half a dozen stores housed in small, stone-built villas. Here again was a mix of those in typical Roman attire and locals in their colourful garb.

  The new arrivals attracted quite a bit of interest.

  ‘Let’s try and blend in,’ Cassius told the others quietly as he took his satchel from Simo.

  The group broke up, drifting away to investigate the goods on offer. One of the vendors asked Asdribar if he was from the ship while Annia and Clara were soon being set upon by a merchant selling jewellery. Indavara and Simo wandered over to a butcher’s. Hanging from a hook under an awning was the skinned carcass of what appeared to be a giant rabbit. Indavara eyed it curiously.

  ‘Gazelle,’ said Noster. ‘Not bad if you cook it long enough.’

  Cassius followed the legionary to the store furthest from the square. Here, a middle-aged woman presided over a selection of dried fruit and nuts laid out on wooden trays. She had just finished serving a young girl, who departed with an amphora full to the brim with raisins. Cassius saw something moving on the floor and realised there was a little black-haired monkey sitting next to a flat piece of stone. It was wearing a miniature tunic and was attached to the woman’s chair by a collar and chain. She put down a bowl of nuts. The monkey took one, smashed it against the stone, threw the shell to one side, then gave the kernel back to its mistress.

  ‘Remarkable,’ said Cassius.

  The woman looked up. ‘Morning, sirs.’

  Recognising Noster, she lowered her voice. ‘Ah. Go ahead. He’s already here.’

  As they walked round the stall, she offered another nut to the monkey but this time it kept its hands down and looked away. Cursing, the woman threw the nut at the little creature, who shook his head at her, then scratched his nether regions.

  ‘What’s wrong with Adrianus?’ asked Noster.

  The woman tutted. ‘One of his moods.’

  Behind the stall were stone steps leading down to a structure built entirely underground.

  ‘A cellar without a house,’ said Cassius.

  ‘Actually it was a house. A local technique – cool in the summer, easy to heat in winter. They use it to store their stock.’

  Noster took a wary look around before hurrying down the steps.

  ‘Is all this secrecy really necessary?’ Cassius asked as he followed. ‘I can’t see any soldiers around.’

  ‘They’re not the only ones who report to Carnifex,’ explained Noster.

  At the bottom of the steps, a middle-aged man was transferring bunches of herbs from a barrel into wooden trays like those from the stall. He nodded to Noster and aimed a thumb over his shoulder. Behind him were passageways to three rooms, all lined with brick and lit by square glass skylights in dire need of cleaning.

  ‘In here,’ came the sonorous tones of Eborius from the room to the right. They found the big centurion leaning against a wall beside a woman of about sixty who was sitting on a chair. She was wearing faded red robes and her arms were weighed down with dozens of bangles. She had a pinched, narrow face and a healthy head of greying hair tied up with a band the same colour as her robes.

  ‘Morning,’ said Cassius.

  ‘Morning,’ said Eborius. ‘This is Hamman. She works at the library. Apparently most of the records are kept in two storerooms. They’re locked but she thinks she can get to the key. At certain times of the week – tomorrow afternoon for example – only she and the clerk are there. He’s one of Leon’s men, lazy and stupid; usually takes a long sleep after lunch. We can probably get you into the storerooms for an hour or two.’

  Cassius spoke clearly to make sure the elderly woman understood him. ‘Thank you for helping us.’

  ‘It doesn’t come free,’ she said in faultless Latin.

  ‘Ah.’

  ‘An aurei now. One afterwards.’

  Cassius looked at Eborius, who shrugged.

  ‘Best I can do.’

  ‘These records. What exactly is in there?’

  ‘It’s a mess,’ said Hamman. ‘Leon’s only interested in keeping an eye on who’s paid what at the end of every month. Most of it was recovered from the forum. There’s definitely some tax documentation, probably some electoral records too.’

  ‘Will I be able to take anything out?’

  ‘I’d prefer it if you didn’t but no one’s been in there in months, so I doubt anything would be missed. But you cannot get caught. You must not.’

  ‘I’ll be careful.’

  The old woman stuck out her hand.

  ‘In a moment.’ Cassius reached inside the satchel and took out the list he and Simo had completed on the Fortuna. ‘Would you also have a look at this for me? Tell me if you recognise any of those names.’

  The old woman snatched the list, then stood up so she could read it below the skylight. Cassius took a gold coin from his money bag and waited for her to finish. Eborius paced round the chamber, sipping from his canteen. Judging by the smell, there was as much wine in there as water.

  Hamman shook her head briskly, then handed back the list.

  Cassius dropped the gold aureus into her open palm. ‘Tomorrow then?’

  ‘I’ll make the arrangements,’ said Eborius.

  Hamman ambled away towards the stairs.

  ‘You want me to check that as well, I presume?’ asked the centurion.

  ‘Please. I should have asked you last night.’

  Eborius hung his canteen from his belt and examined the sheet. Cassius wandered over to the steps and watched Hamman disappear from view. The stall owner and his trays were gone too. In one of the amphorae were shiny, freshly washed black olives. Cassius was considering trying one when Eborius spoke.

  ‘Helvetius Cornix. I know that name. I believe he’s still here.’

  Cassius hurried over to him and looked at the list. ‘Helvetius Cornix. Some kind of a scandal, I think. I can’t remember the details of it, nor the outcome.’

  ‘He is a small man, not particularly distinctive.’

  ‘Do you know where he lives?’

  ‘No, but I can find out.’

  Cassius took the sheet and started towards the steps.

  Eborius didn’t move. ‘Corbulo. Leave it to me. We can’t be seen together asking questions in town. I’ll come down to the ship at midday – let you know if I’ve made any progress.’

  ‘And until then?’

  ‘You’ll just have to be patient. If Carnifex hears we’re
up to something, we’ll both be in the shit.’

  The thought of idly waiting around while Memor’s murderer might be freely roaming the streets of Darnis didn’t sit well with Cassius, but he didn’t seem to have a great deal of choice.

  ‘Very well,’ he said, heading for the steps once more. ‘Midday, then.’

  ‘Midday.’

  The timber yard was on the Via Roma – the avenue that ran south from the square, perpendicular to the Via Cyrenaica. Once past yet more fallen porticoes and horizontal columns, they came to what had once been the baths. Only a few bits of wall were left standing. The roof had fallen straight into the main pool and blocks of sundered stone lay atop each other in the filthy water.

  ‘Twenty people died in there,’ said Noster as they passed by.

  ‘Where were you when it happened?’ asked Annia.

  ‘Out on manoeuvres with Eborius,’ replied the legionary.

  ‘What time of day was it?’ asked Asdribar.

  ‘The sixth hour. Eborius tried to keep us together but all the men just dropped their shields and weapons and ran back to the town.’

  ‘For their families,’ said Annia.

  Noster nodded. ‘I was lucky. My wife was outside, in the garden. She watched the house come down. The first night was the worst. You could hear people all over, stuck under the rubble. There weren’t enough of us to help them all, so Eborius decided we should concentrate on those that sounded youngest. But some we just couldn’t find. The second night was quiet. Sometimes the ruins shift and another body turns up. Usually they’re just bones now.’