Render Unto Caesar
Page 27
“Pollio,” Hermogenes answered impatiently. “I already told you that, if you recollect. He wants to kill me because he fears I have guessed enough of his plans to betray them—to you. A pointless and stupid fear, isn’t it? Here I am, trying to do exactly what he fears, and there are you, preparing to flog me to prevent it. Pollio could have sent me to you himself, and spared himself trouble.”
“All I want from you is the truth, Greek.”
Hermogenes spat. “You could have had the truth for the asking, Roman. I came here to tell it to you, and I said as much. No: you want me to lie. You want me to say that your friend is blameless, and that I am not an innocent businessman caught up in the schemes of powerful Romans but a wicked conspirator and blackmailer myself. Torture me long enough and I probably will say it. Perhaps I will say it now, and spare myself the torture. Then you can give me to Rufus, and he will kill me—and, in due course, kill you.”
“Tell me about this debt you came to collect from Rufus, ‘innocent businessman.’”
“And if I say something you dislike, will you use the whip yourself, or will you allow the Savage to change my story?”
Taurus stared at him for a long moment, his jaw working. Then he raised a hand. “Unchain him,” he ordered.
There was a moment of hesitation, and then the guards came over, loosened the chain, and unfastened the manacles. Hermogenes drew his arms down slowly and stepped away from the pillar. His right arm was still numb from the general’s blow, but it had started to prickle with pain. He flexed the fingers, staring at them as they moved, then glanced around for his clothes. Taurus gave a nod, and one of the guards handed him his tunic. He put it on, belted it clumsily with his numbed hand. “My bodyguard,” he said, without looking round.
Someone went behind him to the far wall: he turned to watch them, and saw that the “punishment cell” adjoined the room—a narrow cellar, too small to stand in upright, windowless and with a single door. The Savage unlocked the door and went in. After a little, he came out again, carrying the iron shackles. Behind him came Cantabra, still naked apart from her underclothes. She looked at him anxiously.
He indicated the door to the office and started for it himself. The guards stirred, but Taurus raised a hand, and they subsided.
Back in the office, Hermogenes moved his good cloak to one side of the bench, then sat down to put on his sandals. Taurus had followed him out of the punishment room, and watched him put them on. At the other side of the room, Cantabra was hurriedly pulling on her tunic.
“So,” said Taurus. “Now will you talk?”
Hermogenes turned to face him. “Am I under arrest, Lord Prefect? And if so, who has charged me, and with what crime, or who has called me as a witness? For one or the other must be true, if I am under arrest and this is a legal hearing.”
Taurus frowned.
“If this is a legal hearing,” Hermogenes went on, “where is the prosecutor? For I think that, however ‘extraordinary’ it may be, the judge who hears the case is not allowed to play that role himself. And where is the counsel for the defense—and, for that matter, what is the case that is being heard? I should like to know that, if I am under arrest.”
“You are not under arrest,” Taurus conceded.
“Then I will go.” Hermogenes marched to the desk and picked up the pen case. The letters of credit were underneath it, and he rolled them up and stuffed them in.
“No!” Taurus exclaimed impatiently. “You said you came here to tell me about this!”
“So I did,” Hermogenes replied, rounding on him again. “But if it escaped your notice that you responded by having me stripped and chained to a flogging post, I assure you, it did not escape mine. And now I find myself strangely unwilling to help you, and—I do not know why!—suspicious of your goodwill and your good faith. So I think I will simply go away again and see if I can’t find a way out of my difficulties which does not involve relying upon a Roman. Kindly return to me the letter I wrote to my daughter.”
“You are very angry,” observed Taurus. “Consider that you are accusing a man I have for many years regarded as a protégé and friend, and that I have cause to believe you are his enemy and the agent of a man I despise.”
“I considered it before,” Hermogenes replied. “I expected suspicion; I feared that you would not believe me. I did not expect violence and the threat of torture as the first recourse—the first recourse, before you had even questioned me! Zeus! Can you really expect me to trust you now?”
Taurus looked at him for a long moment, then said slowly, “I am ready to listen to you, Greek. You can talk, or you can satisfy your indignation by walking out.”
Hermogenes stood still, trying to get control of his breathing, which kept threatening to turn into pants of rage and pain. Then he shuddered, set down the pen case, pressed his hands to his face, and swore.
“Tell me about this debt you came to collect from my friend Lucius Rufus,” ordered Taurus, sitting down at the desk again.
He told him briefly, keeping back the whereabouts of the documents and the token that provided access to them. He recounted his meeting with Pollio, the way he had been detained, the encounter with Rufus in the bathhouse, Pollio’s decision to buy the debt, and his own suspicion and escape. Taurus listened in forbidding silence, occasionally glancing at Cantabra, and seeming to find confirmation of the story in her expression.
When he had finished, the Roman sat staring moodily at the desk for a long time. Hermogenes stood before him cradling his arm, which now ached and felt hot.
“Even if you are telling the truth,” Taurus said at last, looking up, “you do not know that Rufus has agreed.”
“Pollio told me he would buy the debt,” Hermogenes pointed out. “If Rufus had refused he would have told me that he would protect me while I summoned the consul for nonpayment.”
“Which you would have done,” said Taurus, with a flash of anger.
“Do you recommend a general cancellation of debts?” Hermogenes asked acidly. “If you do, is your friend the emperor aware of it? In Egypt there are laws, approved by the Romans, which call that recommendation treason. Or is your opinion merely that friends of the emperor have the right to take money from whomever they please without repayment? I had the impression that the emperor would not like that view any more than the other, since he has proclaimed the restoration of the Republic—and the Senate would like the notion even less.”
Taurus glowered, then made a gesture of concession. “Rufus should have repaid your uncle. I suspect even he realizes that now.”
“He does not,” Hermogenes said flatly, glaring at the Roman. “He considers he was fully entitled to take money from a Greek, and he blames his troubles upon my insolent refusal to accept that—as do you.”
“Because you are indeed a very insolent and troublesome man!” replied Taurus, leaning forward to fix him with a lowering glare. “Understand: I could charge you with treason. You prayed for the destruction of Rome. I have witnesses to that. You saw fit to rebuke me for striking you for it, but I could legitimately have you killed.”
“Your witnesses would also have to testify that I cursed Romans during a proceeding which was clearly illegal,” Hermogenes said coolly. “I do not think you are likely to call them. As for my opinion of Rome and Romans—I am a Roman citizen, and until I came to this city, I was proud of it. I have never advocated or practiced any sedition. I have never called for the cancellation of debts, or pretended that the laws pronounced by the Senate and People don’t apply to me and my friends.”
“Enough!” shouted Taurus, and slapped the desk.
There was a silence. Hermogenes noticed that his ankle was hurting again. He remembered that the guards had taken away the bandage for it, and glanced around to see what they’d done with it. The long strip of linen was crumpled up under the bench. He went over, picked it up, sat down, took off his sandal, and began wrapping the foot again—slowly, because his right arm hurt.
Hermogenes shrugged. The bandage was creased, and he tried to straighten it. “I think he plans to create some sort of public disorder. Riots, or a fire. Something which would allow him to step forward with money and help, and be restored to the emperor’s friendship on a wave of popular acclaim. From the way you speak of him, you are his enemy, and presumably he believes that if he tried such a trick while you were alive, you would instantly suspect him and take steps to find him out—which, as prefect of the city, you would be well placed to do. Rufus, on the other hand, as consul would be in a position to help him.”
Taurus grunted. After another silence he said, “I do not take your bare word for any of this, Greek.”
“I never imagined that you would.” Hermogenes tied the bandage and pulled his sandal on again. “You will have to investigate it, obviously, and perhaps devise some test of your friend’s intentions.” He straightened, facing the prefect again. “You will find that it is as I say.”
Taurus grunted again. “When does your letter go to Scipio?”
“The first of July.”
“Four days,” the prefect commented with distaste. “That is not very long. Scipio is an arrogant bungler with more ancestors than wits; he must at all costs be kept out of a delicate business like this one. You must collect that letter.”
“No.” He met the prefect’s indignant eyes. “However, if I had reason, and if I was certain that no one was spying on me, I could arrange a postponement.”
Taurus’s jaw worked again. “And suppose I said that if you want my help you must give me the letter—and the documents?”
“I would refuse,” Hermogenes answered at once. “You have given me no reason to trust you. Even as it is, I think it very unlikely that you will help me.”
“Even though by your reckoning you have saved my life?”
“I think you hold the same opinion as your friend: that a debt to a Greek is a debt that can be ignored.”
The Roman’s face darkened. “You are mistaken.”
Hermogenes shrugged. “When you prove your good faith, Roman, I will be very happy to admit that I misjudged you, and I will gladly acknowledge you to be an honorable man. Until then, I reserve judgment. Am I free to go?”
“No. Not yet.”
“Am I a prisoner, then?”
“No!” said the prefect impatiently. “You are a man who is required to wait quietly while I try to think what to do.”
Hermogenes leaned back against the wall and put his bad foot up on the bench. He noticed Cantabra standing silently on the other side of the room, the cloak he’d loaned her once more draped like a shawl. Her face was very pale, making the scar on her cheek stand out sharply, and she looked enormously shaken. He moved up along the bench and indicated the place beside him. She hesitated, then shook her head.
After another long silence, Taurus said slowly, “You suggested that I devise a test of my friend’s intentions. I think the best test would be to offer him you.”
He took his foot off the bench and straightened slowly. He was surprised at how calm he felt. “This is how an honorable Roman repays debts, is it?” he asked.
Taurus raised a hand forbiddingly. “I said ‘offer,’ Greek. I did not say ‘give.’ He knows that the affair of the house on the Via Tusculana has brought you to my attention. I could tell him that I had apprehended you for questioning, and that you had on you some documents relating to a debt owed by him. If he thought himself secure, he might inform on Pollio.”
“He would want me dead and the documents destroyed before he felt ‘secure,’” Hermogenes stated in disgust. “And even then, he would never admit that he had agreed to kill you.”
“I could arrange that Pollio also knew that I had you.” Taurus began to smile. “You said neither of them knew that you’d heard my name. I could let Rufus know that Pollio wanted you. He would talk if he feared that I’d let Pollio get hold of you again. Even if everything you say is true, I don’t believe he wants to kill me.” His eyes began to glint. “Perhaps I could also offer you to Pollio, and see what he has to say for himself. Yes.” He slapped the desk and stood up. “I will need you to cooperate with this, Greek. They will have to see that I have you, and fear what you might say or what use might be made of you.”
“I have told you, I will not give you the documents!” Hermogenes declared angrily.
“Then don’t!” snapped Taurus. “All this requires of you is that you present yourself at my house on the day I appoint, and play the role of prisoner in front of Rufus and Pollio.”
“Prisoner,” repeated Hermogenes warily. “Why would I be a prisoner?”
“Because you are a suspicious person who has been causing trouble in the city,” replied the general. “Because Pollio has accused you of theft, but not brought charges. Because I questioned you, and was not satisfied with your account of yourself. Ha! That would worry them both. They would both start talking.”
“Start lying!” Hermogenes objected.
“They would say enough truth that I would know where they’re guilty,” Taurus declared confidently, baring his teeth. “And Lucius cannot lie to me. I raised him from the ranks and promoted him, and we have fought side by side. If you’re unwilling to do this, Greek, I will conclude that you’re the one who’s lying.”
Hermogenes was silent a moment. The notion of taking on the role of prisoner filled him with dismay: it seemed only too likely that it wouldn’t be a role at all. On the other hand, if Taurus wanted to take him prisoner, he was quite capable of doing so on the spot. He had turned to this man. That now seemed a mistake, but it was too late to correct it. He had to see it through. “I am willing to do it,” he said in a low voice. “When do you want it done?”
The prefect regarded him a moment, then nodded. “Three days’ time. That will give me time to make some other investigations into the matter. But … yes, I think I will want to have you arrested the day before. Publicly, and somewhere that Pollio’s spies would see it. That would be the best way for him to learn that I have you.”
“At my bank, then,” Hermogenes suggested resignedly, “or attempting to visit Gaius Maecenas. Pollio will have men watching every bank where I could conceivably use an Alexandrian letter of credit within two days, if he doesn’t have them there already, and he probably had watchers posted outside Maecenas’s house yesterday.”
“At your bank,” Taurus decreed. “I would prefer to leave Maecenas out of this. An intervention by him would complicate matters and make them more difficult to settle.”
“Very well, then. At the Bank of Gabinius, at the third hour, the day after tomorrow. I do ask that you have plenty of people in place in good time. I think Pollio would prefer to recapture me, if he could, but he will certainly have given his men orders to kill me rather than let me fall into your hands.”
Taurus smiled. “You’re a cunning fox, aren’t you, Greek? Not one to be caught in a trap. What is your price?”
“I am not a slave,” he declared proudly.
Taurus made another gesture of concession. “What do you expect to gain from this, if it turns out that you are telling the truth, and that you’ve saved my life?”
“I want to go home safely,” Hermogenes replied at once, “and I want Rufus to pay his debt.”
“If you are telling the truth, both things will happen in the natural working of events. What do you want from me?”
“Nothing.”
Taurus leaned back in his seat. “You like money. That’s clear from the risks you’ve taken to get it.”
“This has never been about the money, Roman. This has been about whether Roman officials can rob, cheat, and murder with impunity.”
There was a silence. “You are a strange man,” said Taurus.
Hermogenes laughed: he couldn’t help it. “So I have been told.”
> “Do you have a safe hiding place until the day after tomorrow?”
“I believe so,” he replied cautiously.
Taurus snorted. “Your bodyguard was carrying money,” he remarked. “You had none—only letters of credit allowing you up to … ten thousand sestertii, if I recall correctly?… which you cannot use while you believe the banks are a trap. Was your bodyguard keeping your funds as well as your letters, or do you need money?”
“Not from you,” Hermogenes replied proudly.
Taurus regarded him a moment impassively. “You will borrow from your bodyguard?”
“If I survive I will repay her,” he answered. “If you give me to Rufus, I hope you will repay her yourself—if you are, as you claim and she believes, a man of honor.”
“You are one of the most arrogant and self-righteous men I have ever met!” exclaimed Taurus, his face darkening. “I will not give you to Rufus: you have my word on it. If you really have saved my life, I will reward you.”
Hermogenes got to his feet. “I want nothing from you, Statilius Taurus—only that you honor the law of Rome, and see that it gives me my rights. If you do that, I will be more than content. Am I free to go?”
Taurus, still dark with indignation, grunted and gestured at the door. “The Bank of Gabinius,” he said warningly. “The day after tomorrow, at the third hour.”
“I will be there.” Hermogenes picked up his cloak, tossed it around himself quickly, then went to the desk and picked up the pen case. “The letter to my daughter!” he reminded the prefect.
Taurus, looking thunderous, glanced round, found it, and gave it to him. Hermogenes slipped it into the pen case, which he handed to Cantabra, and limped proudly out of the room.
There was a different group of men jogging and sparring in the exercise yard. They, too, paused with surprised exclamations of “Cantabra!” until the Savage, who had followed the visitors from the office, flicked his whip at the nearest and ordered them to get on with it.