He paused for a moment, looking up at the ceiling again, and Scaurus prompted him in a gentler tone of voice.
‘Your brother found the pair of you?’
Caninus nodded.
‘Yes, he hunted all over the city until he found the place I used to take her to, a disused stable on the east side where I was sure we’d have privacy. Perhaps he followed me, perhaps someone sold the information to him, I’ll never know. He burst in on us and pulled a knife on me, already furious that I’d lied to him, but beside himself with rage when he saw the proof that I’d won her, and that he’d lost. As she jumped up with her hands out to stop him, he put his foot through a rotten floorboard, and in falling he put the knife into her thigh up to the handle. She bled to death in my arms, while he raved at me about how I’d betrayed him and I shouted back for him to kill me if that was what he wanted. I think he would have done it as well, if I hadn’t already been covered in her blood. In the end he calmed down enough to realise what he’d done. It wasn’t just the murder of an innocent girl, enough to see him dead on its own, but it looked horribly like the abduction, rape and slaughter of the daughter of a wealthy citizen. We both knew that her father paid protection to the most powerful of the city’s gangs, and that he wouldn’t hesitate to call them in to take revenge for her, not to mention to save his face by avoiding the admission that she’d strayed from his protection. And there’s nothing that gang leaders like more than having a chance to turn their thugs loose in a cause in which the common people see them as the deliverers of justice, rather than as the robbing scum they are. Since our relationship wasn’t exactly a closely guarded secret I knew that I’d be the one they’d come looking for first, and no matter how loudly I might protest my innocence all I could do would be to condemn us both to having our throats cut in the city square, once the bastards had broken every bone in our bodies, of course.’
He shook his head.
‘We were both doomed, unless we got out of the city before she was missed the next morning, so we both knew that we’d have to go under the city wall and make a run for it, once we’d buried her body under the floorboards and packed it tight with some old sawdust to keep the smell down. The River Worm flows into the city through an arch in the south-eastern section of the wall, and we both knew how to lift the gate that defends it. Once we were through the arch he told me that the next time he saw me he’d kill me without hesitation, and I saw from his eyes that he meant it. I nearly went for him then and there, to finish it one way or another, but something stopped me. Fear, possibly. He was so much better in a fight than me. Or perhaps it was some trace of the closeness we used to enjoy. Anyway, he slipped off into the night, and after a few minutes I said my last farewells to Lucia and made a run for it too.’
Scaurus stood up, stretching his weary body.
‘I’d say you’ve done pretty well from an inauspicious start, if what you’ve told me has been the truth. Although I’d be very interested to know exactly how a man with that sort of price on his head became an imperial official, especially in a city where he’s presumably still wanted for murder?’
Marcus had just finished the last of the soup, reheated for him by the orderly over the hospital’s cooking stove, when Scaurus walked in, returning his centurion’s salute briskly and taking a seat by the bed. Sanga froze to attention on his mattress, and the prefect looked across the room at the heavy wooden crutch propped up at his side.
‘Can you use that crutch, soldier?’
Sanga, unused to speaking to the person closest to a god in his narrow world, spluttered out an answer, red-faced and staying at attention despite the fact that he was lying flat on his back.
‘Yes, sir, Tribune, sir! Bit wobbly though . . . sir.’
‘Well, then, it sounds to me as if you could do with some practice. Off you go. Take a few turns up and down the corridor until I tell you to come back.’
The soldier obeyed with alacrity, hobbling out of the room with a sickly smile of embarrassment on his face, and Scaurus sat back, looking around the room’s featureless walls.
‘Are you bored of this place yet, Centurion Corvus?’ Marcus nodded, the look on his face bringing a smile to the Tribune’s lips. ‘I rather thought you might be. You’re not one to sit around and do nothing, are you? Anyway, your time of boredom is about to end. I have a new task for you, Centurion, a job where you’ll find your eyes and ears of far more use than the ability to speak. And you’ve already proven yourself to be more than usually skilled when it comes to spotting those small details that matter.’ Manius appeared at the door with an armful of clothing and equipment. ‘I told the orderly to bring your gear, and the doctor has already signed your discharge as fit for duty. It seems she knows better than I do just how bored you’ll be sitting here with only a soldier for company. So get dressed and I’ll see you at the front entrance. Duty calls, Centurion, and in this case you don’t need a voice to answer.’
Marcus and Scaurus stood on the corner of the street in which Caninus’s headquarters was located, while the gate guards observed them unhappily, still smarting from their detention overnight. As they’d walked through Tungrorum from the hospital the tribune had recounted to Marcus the story related to him by Caninus, and he was just finishing the prefect’s version of the truth.
‘So the story is that they packed the girl’s body in sawdust to stop it from smelling too badly, then made a run for it through the arch that lets the River Worm flow into the city. Caninus went east, skirting round the fort at Mosa Ford and scrambling through the shallows rather than risk being taken by the gate guards, and he carried on as far as Claudius Colony on the Rhenus. Once he was there he kept his head down, worked hard and established a reputation as a clever lad with a habit of delivering on his promises. He ended up finding a place with the civilian authorities as an administrator. After which one thing leads to another, and ten years later here he is, prefect in charge of the province’s counter-banditry effort while his long-lost brother has surfaced as the biggest, nastiest gang leader of them all. I asked him how he’d not been recognised as the man who’d fled the city ten years before, and I have to admit that his answer was a decent enough end to the story, whether it’s true or not.’ Marcus raised an eyebrow, and the tribune waved an arm at the surrounding city. ‘It’s obvious enough, if you look about you. There should be two or three times the number of citizens in Tungrorum, given the size of the place.’ The young centurion nodded slowly, his lips pursing as he too recognised the potential truth in Caninus’s story. ‘Exactly. The plague. The same bloody pestilence that’s been ravaging the empire for the last fifteen years broke out in the city about five years ago, he tells me, here and in all the forts along the Rhenus at much the same time. And if it was vicious enough to kill the last emperor in the safety of his palace, why would it spare any of its victims here? Caninus reckons at least a third of the city died during the outbreak, and a lot more took their possessions and fled, for all the good it would have done them. So, when he was sent here to serve as prefect there was simply no one left alive that recognised him. And on top of that the girl’s family are all dead, and without them there’s no further call for justice. That, and the fact that he purged the official files of all trace of the murder, or so he says.’
Marcus wrote in his tablet, holding it up for the tribune to read.
‘Proof? The local census records were all destroyed in a fire during the plague, when some fool set light to a building full of dead and dying victims of the infection and managed to burn out a whole block of the city, including the records storage building. Caninus tells me that the stable in which the girl died went the same way, which means we won’t get any validation of his story that way.’
He nodded at Marcus’s raised eyebrow.
‘I know. Convenient, isn’t it. A story that “proves” his innocence, but without very much in the way of hard evidence. So, do I believe it?’ He paused for a moment. ‘In all truth, yes, I actually want his
story to hold up, and may Our Lord judge me if I’m mistaken. He tells it with the right mixture of desperation and fatalism, like a man who knows that he’s dangling over the drop into Hades but doesn’t deserve to take the fall. Mind you, I’m not entirely trusting of this new version of the man, so I’ve sent away to the governor’s office for a copy of the relevant census entry. At least that way we can see the truth of this “twins” story. As to whether I really trust him, that, as I told you in the hospital, is where you come in. I’m going to set you down in the heart of his command, without giving him the option, and you can observe him for a few days and tell me what you think. If this whole story is just a lie then the point must come when he lets up his guard, even if only for a moment. And if he really is Obduro, then having him under such a close watch will prevent him from taking any further action against us. Whether or not he’s innocent, and simply the victim of his brother’s lust for power and revenge, I can’t think of a better way of finding out – other than the rather extreme expedient of torturing a potentially innocent man half to death – than setting a bright young lad like you on him.’ Marcus nodded, looking at the prefecture building while Scaurus continued speaking. ‘But for Mithras’s sake, be careful. If he’s not the innocent party in all this, then he’ll probably be looking for an opportunity to strike at both of us. Watch your back, Centurion, and I want a daily report from you every evening. I’ve told Caninus that if you fail to appear at evening roll call I’ll take that building apart brick by brick and summarily execute him and every man that gets in my way!’ Marcus drew himself up and saluted, and Scaurus raised a hand in return. ‘Very well, you’re dismissed. May Our Unconquered Lord watch over you.’
The guards on the prefecture’s main entrance snapped to attention as Marcus approached, pulling the heavy wooden door open. Their weapons had been returned to them once Scaurus had decided to make an open show of trust in their master, at least for the time being, and Marcus noted that neither of the guards chose to meet his eye. Inside the building he found the prefect’s whip-thin deputy, waiting for him. Tornach nodded to him impassively, opening the door to Caninus’s office and stepping back. The prefect was seated at his desk with both hands flat on the wood, clearly just sitting and waiting for Marcus to arrive. He stood, advancing round the table and stopping in front of the Roman, snapping to attention as the door closed.
‘Centurion, I am at your disposal. Tribune Scaurus has informed me that my continued freedom to perform my role is dependent on your presence in my headquarters, and so I think the simplest way to approach the situation is to be honest as to the limitations to be imposed on my actions. I place myself in your hands.’
Marcus smiled gently, tapping his still swollen jaw and pointing at the chair from which Caninus had risen.
‘I understand. Talking is . . . difficult for you at the moment?’
Marcus nodded, pointing to the chair again, and this time Caninus relaxed, returning to his seat. The young centurion passed him the wooden tablet on which he had written several lines of closely spaced text, watching as the prefect held it up to the light in his broad-fingered hand.
‘“I am to watch you, but will do so as your friend. I am still grateful for your rescue of my wife.”’ Caninus bowed his head. ‘No gratitude is required, Centurion, but your open mind is appreciated more than you might guess. Anyway . . .’ He turned back to the tablet. ‘“I will observe, nothing more. Continue with your duties as if I were not here.”’ The prefect smiled wryly. ‘That’s an easier task for you to instruct than for me to perform, but I’ll do my best to ignore your presence. And then you ask what I have planned?’ He stood, pointing to the map behind him. ‘I have two main objectives at this time . . . but perhaps you should take a seat before I explain any further? I still have to assume that my prefecture has been compromised by Obduro’s spies.’
Marcus sat, gesturing to the prefect to continue.
‘My first, and most obvious target, is clearly Obduro himself. I have my scouts out in Arduenna, hunting for their hiding place, for our first concern must be to find that encampment’s location. You were there, Centurion Corvus, even if you were blindfolded and injured. Can you give me any better idea of where to look?’
Marcus wrote on his tablet for a moment, then handed it across the desk. The prefect looked at it, nodded his understanding and passed it back.
‘I understand. You were knocked half-conscious, your jaw was broken, and doubtless they did everything possible to disorientate you. I can see how you say that you might have been walking for one hour or three. Nevertheless, there may be some small clue you can provide? Look at the map. If you had to take a guess as to where it might be, where would you place the location?’
Marcus stood, walked over to the map-covered wall and, after a moment of deliberation, pointed at a spot to the south-east of the submerged bridge. He shrugged helplessly, turning back to Caninus, who inclined his head with a grave smile.
‘I understand. Nevertheless your guess is better informed than any that we might make. I’ll have my scouts thoroughly explore that part of Arduenna.’
Marcus nodded, opening his hands in a gesture for Caninus to continue.
‘I mentioned a second task. In truth it’s something I’ve not shared with a soul outside this office.’ He leaned across the desk, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial murmur. ‘If any hint of my suspicions with regard to the matter I’m about to outline to you were to become generally known before the time is right then I have no doubt that the evidence would be lost within hours, and the man I suspect of gross fraud against the imperial treasury would have me in his power.’ He sat back in his chair with a speculative eye on the man facing him. ‘But I suspect you know what I’m talking about. Perhaps you and I can form an alliance in this matter. You might just make the perfect investigator.’
After concluding his session with Caninus, Marcus explained that he had a personal task to attend to and left the prefecture, walking briskly down the street to the food shop where Scaurus had purchased his soup the previous evening. A brief negotiation carried out in sign language, and the exchange of enough money to pay for a week’s supply of food, quickly persuaded the proprietress that her new best customer was to be provided with two pots of soup a day, and the flavours were to be varied as much as possible.
His next stop was the smith from whom he’d purchased his new spatha. Unlike the food shop’s owner, the sword maker had his letters and was able to read Marcus’s handwritten instructions, albeit in a slow, laboured manner.
‘So you want a new helmet, Centurion? Did you lose the old one when you got that lump on your face, eh?’ Marcus nodded patiently. ‘You want an exact copy of the one you lost, but made in the same way as that cavalry helmet I showed you? Ah, you want the iron layered, do you? You’re a clever man, Centurion; you won’t get any better protection than one of my helmets. Now, what else . . .?’ He squinted at the tablet, frowning at the next item. ‘A shield?’ He frowned at the Roman. ‘I didn’t think you officers carried shields?’ Marcus raised an eyebrow and tapped the tablet. ‘Yes, sir. And you want it . . .’ The smith’s frown deepened as he read on. ‘What use will that be, Centurion? It’ll be the wrong shape for a start.’
Marcus took the tablet out of his hand and held it up, pointing at the lines inscribed on the wax with a meaningful look before tapping his purse. The smith shrugged, nodding his agreement.
‘You’re the customer, Centurion. If you want a shield that’ll make you look like a throwback to antiquity and be a complete bastard to use, who am I to argue? So, a spear, a helmet and a shield all made to your very particular specifications . . . shall we call it ten in gold?’ Marcus scratched a fresh line onto his tablet and passed it over the counter for the smith to read. ‘“Yes, but only if . . .”’ The smith shook his head ruefully. ‘For a man I had down as my best customer in years you’re driving a very hard bargain, Centurion.’ Marcus shrugged, took the tablet from his hand and
turned for the door, prompting the smith to hurry around the counter to block his exit with a speed that belied his size. ‘I didn’t say it was an impossible bargain though. Here, have a seat. Are you allowed to drink wine with that bandage round your face?’
With the deal agreed and toasted with a cup of the smith’s rather watery wine, Marcus walked back to the hospital with a thoughtful look on his face, collecting a fresh pot of soup on the way. He kissed his wife, then walked down the corridor until he found the room he was looking for, occupied by a single man in a centurion’s uniform. The patient got painfully to his feet when he saw Marcus in the door’s frame, and put out a hand in greeting.
‘Centurion Corvus! It’s been a long time since we had the chance to talk. I saw you lying in the room next door when they brought me in, but I’ve not been able to walk until today, and even now it’s a bit ugly.’ He turned up the sole of his left foot for Marcus to examine, and the younger man winced at the huge black blisters. ‘They don’t hurt all that much, and I’m allowed to walk on them if they’re bandaged up, but I won’t be fit for duty for at least a week.’
Marcus looked back at him with a smile of genuine affection, and went through his now practised mime of tapping his swollen jaw and handing over his tablet for the other man to read. While Tertius deciphered the lines of closely packed script, his lips moving as he read, Marcus’s mind went back to their first meeting in the officer’s mess at the port of Arab Town at the eastern end of the Wall, and Tertius’s swift discovery of his true identity and fugitive status. The 2nd cohort centurion had had ample opportunity to profit from the knowledge, but had chosen instead to work against his prefect’s plans for Marcus’s exposure and execution. Rumours had circulated among the men of the Tungrian cohorts for months after Prefect Furius’s mysterious death, despite the official opinion at the time being that it had been the result of natural causes. Furius, it was speculated, had been the subject of a revenge plot, murdered by a 2nd cohort centurion whose soldier brother had been crucified on his orders. No proof had been forthcoming, however, and Tertius, as the centurion in question, had stoically ignored all invitations to comment.
The Leopard Sword Page 26
