Agent of Rome: The Far Shore

by Brown, Nick

  Cassius sat down on the bed. Surprisingly, the plan he, Eborius and Indavara had concocted in the darkest hours of the night still seemed feasible. It was, however, worryingly dependent on the big centurion, who had raised concern after concern before finally agreeing to go ahead. Some of his contributions had been valid but the impression remained that he was struggling with the very thought of taking on Carnifex. Hardly surprising; he had lived in the man’s shadow for so long.

  A brisk knock on the door and Indavara walked in, looking remarkably fresh-faced.

  ‘Get any sleep?’ he asked.

  ‘Just dozed a bit really. Had I slept properly I might have assumed I’d had the most horrific of nightmares.’

  Indavara shut the door behind him. ‘I’ve been thinking. Carnifex.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘It’s too risky – leaving it to Eborius.’

  ‘He’ll come through.’

  ‘You’ve seen his hands? They shake.’

  ‘He’ll come through,’ Cassius repeated. ‘In any case, Eborius is the only one with a chance of drawing Carnifex away from his men. We stick to the plan and wait for him to contact us.’

  ‘There is another choice. Let me kill him.’

  Cassius took a moment to reply. ‘Indavara, no one respects your abilities more than I, but you wouldn’t stand a chance. He has over a hundred men at this mansion. You don’t know him and you don’t know the territory.’

  ‘Eborius can get me close. I can do the rest.’

  ‘No. We take him alive. Despite everything we saw last night, he is still a serving centurion. He must face the authorities; the decision doesn’t lie with us.’

  ‘Like you said, he doesn’t know we’re coming. We have one chance at this. A man like that doesn’t give second chances.’

  ‘We have to take him alive.’

  Indavara looked out through the porthole. ‘If this goes wrong, everyone who came here on this ship will be in danger, the women included.’

  ‘It won’t come to that. Consider your view duly noted. I’ve made my decision.’

  Once he’d washed and taken a little breakfast, Cassius went to find Annia. It had been too late to call in at the deckhouse during the night and he’d wanted some time to consider what to tell her. Coming up through the hatch, he saw her standing alone at the end of the breakwater, well away from the sailors. Asdribar was in his chair, watching the crew.

  ‘You two were late back last night,’ said the Carthaginian. ‘Any progress?’

  ‘Of a sort,’ Cassius replied. ‘We’ll definitely be ready to leave first thing tomorrow?’

  ‘I said we would. Where are we bound?’

  ‘Apollonia. What is it, fifty miles or so?’

  ‘About that. Miss is in agreement, I take it?’

  ‘Leave her to me. But we have to depart at dawn, whatever the weather.’

  ‘Whatever the weather? You have a short memory.’

  ‘It will be impossible for us to stay here. Can’t we just hug the coast? Stay as close as possible to the land?’

  ‘Being close to land doesn’t make a lot of difference if there’s another storm like the one that brought down my rig. In fact it makes it even more dangerous. I’m not going to risk my men and my ship like that again.’

  Cassius didn’t want to get into an argument. He glanced at the sea, which was as calm as a millpond. ‘Looks set fair for now. Just please make sure we’re ready.’

  Cassius crossed the gangplank on to the breakwater. Once past the busy crewmen, he disturbed a group of gulls who flapped into the air to join the multitude circling above. Annia was gazing out to sea, arms wrapped around her. She didn’t notice Cassius until he was close.

  ‘Morning, miss. Apologies for not coming to see you sooner.’

  ‘I lay awake all night, and I watched you come aboard. Why was there no one with you?’

  ‘Things have changed.’

  ‘What do you mean? What about these men?’

  Cassius regretted telling her even that; now she expected to know the rest.

  ‘The situation is even more precarious and dangerous than I had imagined. I must simply ask you to trust me. We’ll be leaving in the morning, of that I’m sure.’

  ‘And what about Dio?’ Annia demanded. ‘What are you waiting for?’ She jabbed a finger at the Fortuna. ‘I want him on the ship in chains. I want him taken back to Rhodes, or to Rome.’

  ‘Miss, please, try to calm down.’

  ‘You’re enjoying this. Having this power over me.’

  ‘That is ridiculous.’

  For the briefest of moments, Cassius considered telling her – Dio, the quarry, Carnifex, everything. But he, Indavara and Eborius had agreed that what they’d planned must remain between the three of them. Annia was simply too volatile and unpredictable to trust with such information.

  ‘Miss, you asked me to begin this investigation back on Rhodes and we are now hours from a resolution. Tomorrow I will be able to tell you everything. You must trust me.’

  ‘Why should I?’ she said without looking at him. ‘When you so clearly do not trust me.’

  With that, she hurried back to the ship as fast as the uneven surface beneath her feet would allow.

  Cassius couldn’t summon the energy to be concerned about the girl; there was too much else to worry about. He turned and looked west along the shore. There, about a mile away, was a tiny fisherman’s hut between the old wall and the water. If all went to plan, he would be spending the night there.

  The day passed as painfully slowly as Cassius knew it would, but he at least had a little work to occupy him. First, he recorded the three dead conspirators’ names, along with a physical description and the personal information Eborius had passed on. He then wrote out his account of the night’s events, filling four sheets with ink. This he read to Indavara, who agreed it was accurate and added his signature. Cassius commended him on his effort – even though the single word was barely legible – and resisted the temptation to ask again why he had no family name.

  Just after midday, one of Eborius’s men delivered the signed statements from the centurion and the legionaries. Cassius checked through them all and was pleased to find they were clearly written and corroborative, aside from the inevitable minor inconsistencies that occur when several people are asked to describe the same event.

  Carnifex’s arrogance and penchant for brutality had condemned him. Not only had he admitted to organising the assassination, he had committed one murder – albeit of the assassin – with his bare hands and presided over three others. If the issue was ever presented to a court, which Cassius still thought unlikely, the man had little chance of escaping justice. If the evidence was used simply to convince Abascantius and Chief Pulcher of the rogue centurion’s guilt, his fate was sealed. Cassius tucked all the documents into the satchel and placed it under the bed.

  Noster came down to the harbour at the ninth hour with a simple message from Eborius: all was proceeding as intended and they should go ahead as planned. Cassius felt a mixture of relief and anxiety; Indavara seemed almost happy. Noster also had some other news, which he related as the three of them stood at the Fortuna’s bow.

  ‘The bodies were “discovered” this morning, by men of the First Century. Carnifex pinned it on two Maseene picked up just outside town yesterday. Procyon and Mutilus crucified them this morning. They’re hanging in the square.’

  Indavara came closer. ‘Two warriors? Young men?’

  ‘Little more than boys. Some of the braver locals have protested to Governor Leon but he won’t do a damn thing.’

  ‘The two that attacked you?’ Cassius asked Indavara.

  Indavara wandered over to the side-rail without a word.

  ‘Even neater than I thought,’ said Cassius.

  ‘The townspeople have swallowed it hook, line and sinker,’ said Noster. ‘They think they need Carnifex to protect them more than ever now.’

  Indavara spat into the wat
er.

  ‘Eborius hasn’t told me what you’re going to do,’ said Noster, ‘but whatever it is, I’ll be praying to Jupiter that it works.’

  The crosses had been put up close to the ruined forum. One boy’s head had settled to the left, the other to the right. Cassius was thankful that their eyes were closed. He guessed they might have been dead before they were nailed up; their tunics were riven with holes, their lean frames covered with gashes and gouges. The blood from the nail-wounds in their palms had dried in dark streaks upon their skin and the wood. Splintered bone splayed out from the large nail that had been driven through one boy’s ankles.

  ‘By the gods, how foul.’

  Indavara looked at Cassius. ‘Is that all you can say? The poor bastards were running round the streets this time yesterday. Can’t you offer a prayer or something?’

  ‘Considering what we’re about to do, I’d concentrate on your own fate. Come on.’

  Indavara didn’t move. ‘Corbulo.’

  Cassius stopped. ‘You don’t even share a god.’

  ‘Just say something. You’re good with words.’

  Cassius let out a long breath before speaking.

  ‘These warriors died young. Too young. May their gods honour their memories and … watch over their families.’

  Indavara clasped his hands together and nodded at the dead youths in turn.

  ‘Didn’t they try to kill you?’ asked Cassius.

  Indavara looked at a trio of legionaries on the other side of the square. ‘Only because they thought I was one of them.’

  Cassius didn’t recognise any of the men and concluded they were with the First Century. ‘We should go.’

  ‘Lead on,’ said Indavara. ‘I’m looking forward to this.’

  The last person they saw in Darnis was Maro, working alone at the timber yard. They took care to stay away from the gate; the fewer people who saw them the better. After a mile or so, the slabs of stone underfoot came to an end and the Via Roma became a wide track of compacted mud. They saw no one at work in the fields, only a distant goatherd watching over his charges as they grazed across a water meadow.

  According to Eborius, the road led eventually to Carnifex’s headquarters. Cassius had a story ready if they did encounter any of his legionaries, but even being seen in the area might prove costly considering what they were about to attempt. Eborius felt it was worth the risk of venturing beyond the town; Carnifex would be less wary close to his home ground.

  ‘What if he’s not alone?’ asked Indavara.

  ‘He will be.’

  Indavara scowled. ‘Last night didn’t exactly go as planned, did it? Who do I have to back me up? You and a drunk.’

  ‘Just do your job and take the son of a bitch down quickly. He’ll never know what hit him.’

  ‘My pleasure.’

  A mile further down the road they came to a bridge.

  ‘Not far now,’ said Cassius.

  ‘I thought there were no rivers here,’ said Indavara.

  ‘There aren’t. Look – it’s just a gorge. According to Noster the hole at the bottom widened during the earthquake.’

  The bridge was about thirty yards wide: a single arch composed of large blocks of a reddish stone. The surface seemed to be in good condition but there was a painted sign next to the road: BEWARE: BRIDGE DAMAGED. Close by was a stack of timber, a pile of rusting nails and some coils of rope.

  As they started across, Cassius moved close to the left-hand wall and looked down at the gorge. The slope was shallow close to the top but then angled sharply down before reaching a dark fissure ten feet wide. ‘Gods, it looks as though it leads down to Hades itself.’

  A piercing cry was his only reply and he watched a pair of large black birds swoop out from under the bridge, monitoring the series of burrows close to the top of the gorge. Cassius noted the forked tails and the grey flecks on their wings.

  ‘Eagles?’ asked Indavara.

  ‘Black kites. Like an eagle, but they’ll take anything – food from your hand, fish from the water.’

  As they neared the far side of the bridge, Cassius looked back and belatedly understood the need for the sign. Much of the supporting brickwork under the arch on the northern side had been lost, and the structure was reinforced by a flimsy-looking lattice of timber. This formed a frame under the stone, which was in turn supported by six large wooden posts embedded in the slope. Whatever had been used to keep the timbers together evidently hadn’t been deemed sufficient; each joint was also held together by thick lengths of rope. Cassius quickened his pace.

  Beyond the gorge the Via Roma followed an incline up to a ridge. Just before the top – and exactly as Eborius had described – was a track running at right angles to the road. They turned left and followed the track through a dense grove of olive trees.

  Apart from the scuffing of their boots on the ground, and the constant buzzing of unseen insects, all was quiet. The track eventually curved to the right and reached a small clearing, in the middle of which was a long-dead tree stump, charred and grey. On the other side of the clearing, facing north, was a barn with two arched doorways.

  ‘There it is,’ said Cassius. He led the way across the clearing and into the building. The interior was dominated by a wide stone oil press. At either end were shelves occupied only by a few broken amphorae. Shrunken, bitter-smelling olives littered the floor.

  Indavara pointed at the doorways in turn. ‘One of us here, one of us there?’

  ‘Makes sense.’

  Cassius removed his canteen from his belt and took a long drink of water mixed with Asdribar’s strongest wine, then put it down on the ground out of the way – he didn’t want it clinking against something at the wrong moment. Indavara took off his pack and leant his stave against the wall next to it. Cassius walked outside and around to the rear of the barn. Standing there was a small cart with a pack similar to Indavara’s in the back. Cassius returned to the building to find Indavara checking the view through various gaps in the masonry.

  ‘It’s there?’ asked the bodyguard.

  ‘It is.’

  Taking care to remain in the shadows, Cassius tucked his thumbs into his belt and looked out at the track.

  The red sun was low in the sky and the olive grove shrouded in shadow when Eborius arrived. He dismounted, tied his horse to the tree stump and hurried into the barn, not saying a word until he was inside.

  ‘He’s early. Coming now. I saw him on the road.’

  ‘Alone?’ asked Indavara.

  ‘Yes.’

  Eborius’s face was clammy and pale.

  ‘Good,’ said Cassius. ‘This won’t take long. Stay close to the building to give us the best chance.’

  ‘I can see him,’ said Indavara.

  ‘You better go,’ said Cassius. ‘We’re with you.’

  Eborius took a deep breath, then walked outside. Indavara was positioned by the right-hand doorway. Cassius moved carefully to the left and found himself a decent spyhole. Eborius ventured only a few yards from the barn.

  Centurion Carnifex guided his horse – a big, sturdy black stallion – into the clearing at a trot. Sitting back in the saddle, he brought it expertly to a stop five yards from Eborius. He was again clad in the bronze muscle cuirass and Cassius noted that even his helmet was of an old-fashioned design, also bronze, with angular panels to protect the cheeks and neck. The cut-off crest was a bizarre touch, especially as his entire kit was in pristine condition. He glared down at Eborius.

  ‘Got your message. What’s this bullshit about Procyon and Mutilus?’

  ‘It’s complicated. We need to talk.’

  ‘Reckon I said all I needed to say to you three months back. Thought you were seeing sense at last – staying out of my way.’

  ‘Believe me, I’d prefer not to talk to you, but what I heard today couldn’t wait.’

  ‘You really think I’m going to take your word over theirs? They’ve been with me since before you popped out your m
other’s hole.’

  ‘They were overheard discussing these murders. Seemed to know a lot more about it than they should.’

  This piqued Carnifex’s interest sufficiently to get him out of his saddle. With a grunt, he slid to the ground and tied his horse to the tree stump.

  Cassius turned to Indavara. The bodyguard reached for his stave. Cassius put one hand on his sword handle, even though he wasn’t planning to use it. Face pressed against the cold stone, he watched the centurion flick his reins back over the saddle then approach Eborius. Though the younger officer was four or five inches taller, the breadth of Carnifex’s chest, shoulders and neck made him seem the bigger man.

  Much to Cassius’s relief, Carnifex took off the helmet, wiping the sweat from his brow with one big paw. In the middle of his forehead was a deep, yellowish, circular scar; it looked like an arrow wound. There was a lumpen solidity to Carnifex’s face and his eyes shone with the contemptuous arrogance of a man with nothing to fear. Cassius now noted the cause of his limp: a messy pink scar running from his left knee down the side of his leg.

  ‘What are you saying?’ he growled.

  ‘It seems to me that if Procyon and Mutilus know something about these killings, maybe you do too.’

  Carnifex took a step towards Eborius.

  Sweat was running freely down Cassius’s flanks as he turned to Indavara again. He told himself that the bodyguard could handle the old centurion and walked out of the doorway.

  Carnifex spun round to face him, his frown deepening.

  Cassius surprised himself by managing to get some words out. ‘Good evening, Centurion.’

  He forced himself to look at Carnifex, not Indavara, who was creeping up behind him.

  ‘Who—’

  Sensing danger, Carnifex turned just as Indavara swung the stave at his head. He still had the helmet in his hand and threw his arm up. The stave glanced off the helmet but caught him on the back of the head with a solid crack.

  Cassius was in no doubt that the blow would have been enough to knock most men into unconsciousness or worse. But even as the skin opened up and blood ran down the cropped grey hair, Carnifex stayed upright. He staggered, shot a fiery glare at Eborius and threw his helmet at him. The weighty lump of bronze struck the younger officer on the side of the head. He stumbled back into the barn then slumped to the ground.