Bandits of Rome

by Bandits of Rome (retail) (epub)

  “It’s meant to be like that, Carbo. For most there, it’s a punishment. A death sentence, just like being thrown to the beasts. Except slower, and less entertaining for the crowds. But more use to the rich.”

  Carbo shook his head. “Many of them there were free, or slaves that had been stolen from better circumstances. But regardless, no one deserves to live like that. Or die like that.”

  A seagull wheeled overhead, raucous cry answered by nearby companions, drowning out the shouts of the dockworkers.

  “I wondered at first why he didn’t just kill me,” said Carbo. “But he had a reason He wanted me to know utter defeat, and pure suffering, before I died.”

  Vespillo looked at Carbo. “He? Who? You know who did this?”

  Carbo nodded. “Curtius, used to work for him.”

  “Who is he, Carbo?” asked Vespillo urgently. “Who is Atreus?”

  “Blaesus,” said Carbo.

  Vespillo sucked in his breath.

  “Blaesus, the nobleman in the villa on the next farm?”

  Carbo nodded.

  “Blaesus, the father of Quintus?”

  Carbo nodded again.

  Vespillo bit his lip, the implications churning through his mind.

  “So let me get this straight. Blaesus is Atreus, the bandit who attacked us when we first arrived. Whose brother you killed. Who murdered Rufa!”

  Carbo nodded. Another awful thought dawned on Vespillo

  “Who now commits his crimes with his son? Oh no. Could it be…?”

  “I’ve been turning it over in my head. Over and over, as I slammed my pick into the rock, as I stared into the darkness in my workgroup’s hut. Blaesus has two sons. Menelaus could be either one.”

  “Surely not Quintus? That boy thinks the world of you. He fought alongside you against the bandits.”

  “That was coincidental. The bandits weren’t to know Quintus was with us when they spied us from afar. He had been abroad for years, and grown a beard, so Blaesus may not have recognised him immediately. But he certainly spared him. At that point, I’m sure Quintus knew nothing. But when Blaesus’ brother died, and he wanted another partner, who else could he trust but a son?”

  “But Quintus helped us.”

  “Did he? He wasn’t with us when I was taken. Maybe he was there though, wearing a comedy mask. And how did Blaesus know about our ambush in the plaza in advance, so he could turn it against us?”

  Vespillo gritted his teeth, shaking his head in denial.

  “But he seems so earnest. So true.”

  “They wear actors’ masks. I think their dramatic abilities run deeper than that. Look at Blaesus, to all the world a hedonistic, frail old man. I can tell you, matching swords with him, he is not frail. He is strong and swift. You know, even his stutter disappears with the mask on.”

  A sudden thought struck Carbo. “Does Quintus know you came here to look for me?”

  “Actually no. Marsia and Quintus seemed to have something of a falling out. They had started to get strangely close, you know. Anyway, since then, I have seen less of Quintus, and when we found out you were in Sicily, I didn’t think to send word back to Quintus and Lutorius. Just as well, I suppose.”

  “If it was Quintus, I will kill him, Vespillo.”

  “Blaesus has another son,” said Vespillo. “It could be him.”

  “I really hope so,” said Carbo. “But I will find out.”

  They reached the boat, and Carbo stared in disbelief.

  “You came here on this?”

  Vespillo grimaced. “I’m sorry, I know you might not want to travel in this boat again, but it is the quickest way home. The captain was very helpful, once I had paid him enough.”

  A portly man strode down the gangplank, caught sight of them, and blanched.

  “Captain,” said Vespillo. “Our mission was successful. Thank you for your help. We are here for the return journey we paid for.”

  Carbo stepped forward and punched the captain hard on the jaw. Zosimus’ legs buckled, and he crumpled to the deck heavily. From out of nowhere, Sica appeared, leaping on him like an angry cat, clawing at his face, biting his ear. Vespillo hauled her off with difficulty, receiving a couple of scratches himself in the process. He pressed her into Carbo’s arms, who hesitated, then clutched her.

  Marsia had materialised at Carbo’s side. Sica’s fury evaporated as quickly as it had appeared, and she leaned into Carbo’s chest and started to sob. Marsia took her hand, and led the girl gently away.

  Vespillo gaped at Carbo. “What was that about?”

  “He was in on it, Vespillo. He is part of the whole system. Blaesus gave me to him, and he paid off the dock official to keep him quiet. He shut us up in that stinking hold down there, let us suffer in unspeakable conditions. He threw a slave overboard just to bargain for an extra price. And then he handed us over to rot in the mines. Vespillo, he deserves to die.”

  Vespillo stared at the recumbent captain.

  “And what about Marsia and I, captain? You looked surprised to see us. Weren’t we supposed to return from our visit to the mines?”

  He kicked the man hard in the chest, causing him to roll up and groan.

  It was Marsia who stepped forward, and gently calmed the two outraged men.

  “We need him. To get us back to Neapolis. Let the stationarii deal with him when we are home.”

  Zosimus was clutching his ribs and moaning softly.

  “I’ll kill you,” said Zosimus. “You and that little savage girl.”

  Carbo put a foot on his chest.

  “No,” said Carbo. “You will sail this boat back to Neapolis. And if you get us there quickly, and you keep out of my sight, I will possibly let you live. Possibly, mind you.”

  A movement in the corner of his eye caught Carbo’s attention. A sailor had crept up behind Vespillo and Carbo, out of the field of view of Marsia and Sica. In his hand he held a short, sharp blade. But he was unmoving, eyes wide. Carbo looked beyond the sailor, and saw Curtius behind, his own blade jammed up under the sailor’s ear. Curtius smiled at Carbo, and Carbo acknowledged his help with a dip of his head.

  “That goes for everyone on this ship,” said Carbo, raising his voice to the men on the vessel. “Do your jobs, get us home, and you have nothing to worry about. Upset me and, well…” He looked around, catching the eyes of as many of the sailors as he could, though most had their gazes cast down on the deck. “Well, let us say, little has happened to me lately that would give me cause to be merciful.” He looked down at Zosimus. “Am I understood?” Zosimus looked momentarily defiant, but Carbo leaned forward so his weight transferred to the foot on Zosimus’ chest. He felt ribs protesting beneath his shoe.

  “Yes, yes,” gasped Zosimus. “Understood.”

  Carbo let the weight rest there a moment longer, then stepped back. Zosimus sat up, gasping for breath, holding his chest. Carbo turned back to hold the side rail, and watched the horizon once more.

  Lutorius held Calidia’s hand tight, looking earnestly into her eyes.

  “You are absolutely sure about this?”

  “Yes,” she said, dabbing her eyes with a small cloth. “Pinaria is a very sound woman. An excellent seamstress. You should see what she does with Asellio’s old tunics. As good as new.”

  “Being a good seamstress does not make her a reliable witness.”

  “But she was right there. She saw him kill that man and his daughter, just feet away. Saw him take off his mask.”

  “And it was Publius Sempronius Blaesus. He is Menelaus?”

  “It was Publius, yes. He is Menelaus if you say so.”

  Lutorius let out a whistle. “Then Atreus is that grumpy old sod in the villa near Carbo’s farm, Gaius Sempronius Blaesus.”

  “Again, if you say so.” Calidia squeezed Lutorius’ fingers. “My love, you must do something.”

  “But what can I do? You have already taken this to Asellio. What was it he said exactly?”

  “He just
dismissed everything. Said there wasn’t enough evidence. That even if there was, it was not the concern of the stationarii. And even if it was, he didn’t have the manpower to deal with it.”

  “So what do I do?”

  “You are an optio in the stationarii. You must be able to do something.”

  “Well, he hasn’t spoken to me about this, so he hasn’t given me a direct order not to do anything.”

  “There, you see. I knew you would come up with a plan. Lutorius you are wonderful.”

  She kissed him hard on the lips, and he took the prize, even as his mind started to turn over the situation. If only Vespillo was here to help. If only Carbo wasn’t missing, presumed dead. But she was right, he was an optio. He had some authority. He just had to use it without being countermanded by Asellio. Well, he had had some practice sneaking around behind Asellio’s back. He would work this out.

  Tomorrow.

  He pushed Calidia back onto her bed, and slid her dress up around her waist, rolling between her legs as his lips sought hers.

  Lutorius waited in the beautiful atrium. The afternoon sun cast a beam of light through the impluvium, brightly illuminating part of a fresco on one wall. He tried to keep himself erect and professional-looking, eyes straight ahead, though his heart was hammering with excitement and nerves in his chest. The two stationarii he had bought with him looked around in wonder, however, taking in the marble busts, the Sileni statues, the statuettes of agricultural youths, and the statue of Pan indulging in grotesque bestiality, with slack jaws.

  Publius entered. Lutorius recalled being introduced to Blaesus’ son in the past, and recognised him, though they had exchanged few words. There seemed to be something alive and vibrant in Publius’ expression as he reached out and shook Lutorius’ hand.

  “Optio Lutorius. How may I help the stationiarii?”

  “Thank you for agreeing to see me, sir. May I ask you a few questions?”

  “Of course.” Publius sat on a stone bench, putting one foot up, and flicking his fingers for his slave to bring him a cup of wine. He made no move to offer a seat or a drink to his guests.

  “Where were you the night before last?”

  Publius expression took on a vague air of irritation.

  “What business is it of yours?”

  “I’m investigating a crime, sir. I would be very grateful if you would answer.”

  Publius waved a dismissive hand. “I don’t recall precisely. That seems a very long time ago. I stayed at home I believe.”

  “Can anyone else confirm that?”

  “I’m afraid my brother Quintus has taken himself off somewhere in a sulk about a woman. And Jupiter knows where my father is, some business deal no doubt. The slaves can tell you I was here though.”

  “They will testify to that under torture?”

  Publius’ eyes narrowed. “Slaves will testify to whatever you want them to, when they are tortured.”

  “Publius Sempronius, we have testimony from a witness. You were seen assaulting and murdering a woman in Nola the night before last.”

  Publius gaped. “It’s not possible. It was dark, no one could have seen… I mean, it was night time, you said so, the person must have mixed me up with someone else.”

  “I think we should ask you further questions at the statio. Men, bind his hands.”

  Publius rose to his feet, face twisted in outrage. “How dare you? Do you know who I am? Who my father is? I’ll talk to your commanding officer, have you flogged to death for this disrespect.”

  The two stationarii took his arms and pinned them behind his back, tying his wrists together efficiently.

  “Stay with him,” said Lutorius. “I’m going to take a look around.”

  The villa was enormous, with its huge peristylium, its ample triclinium, its numerous rooms for slave accommodation, its well-equipped kitchen. But the part in which Blaesus’ family lived was actually relatively modest - a bedroom each, a small tablinum. Lutorius rifled briefly through some papers in Blaesus’ study, but they seemed to relate mainly to business matters, and the odd piece of personal correspondence was uninteresting. He found the master bedroom, and reclining on the bed was a beautiful Egyptian looking slave. She sat up at the sight of him, drawing the bedsheets around her lightly clad form.

  “Is this Blaesus’ bedroom, slave?” asked Lutorius.

  She nodded. He looked around, and his eyes lighted on a chest. It was unlocked and he flipped the lid. Just a few items of clothing and jewellery.

  “Where is Publius’ room?” he asked.

  “Publius is in trouble?” she asked, timourous.

  “Maybe. Show me his room.”

  The girl stood, her breast band and loin cloth the only clothing concealing her stunning body. Lutorius tried not to stare, feeling suddenly guilty about looking at another woman than Calidia, then feeling stupid given Calidia was married to another. The slave girl took him to another bedroom, and showed him in. There was little to see on a cursory glance, luxurious bed, erotic frescoes, ornate oil lamps, another chest at the foot of the bed, which again contained only jewellery and clothes. He sighed in frustration. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but he feared the testimony of the prostitute was never going to be enough to convict Publius.

  The girl studied him for a little while, then bent over by the bed. He couldn’t help admiring her round buttocks protruding from beneath her loin cloth, and he bit his tongue to help him concentrate. She twisted two knobs that were part of the decoration of the frame that supported the feather mattress. A small drawer slid out. Lutorius stepped forward, reached inside, and drew out a small knife, its blade dark with congealed blood. Next to it was an actor’s mask. A comedy mask.

  Lutorius picked the items up and returned to the atrium. He held them up for Publius to see.

  “Publius Sempronius, I found these in your bedroom. Do you have anything to say?”

  Publius paled. “No, they aren’t mine, you planted them.”

  “Publius Sempronius Blaesus, I am arresting you for murder. Come on lads, let’s get him back to the statio.”

  Chapter XX

  “You did what?” roared Asellio.

  Lutorius stood straight, not flinching at the furious tone.

  “I arrested Publius Sempronius Blaesus on suspicion of murder, sir. And I believe he is the one going by the name Menelaus, the bandit.”

  “Publius Sempronius Blaesus? Son of Gaius Sempronius Blaesus, the richest man in the area?”

  “I have good evidence, sir. A witness, and the knife and the mask.”

  “I don’t care if you have the high priest of Jupiter Optimus Maximus testifying against him. You need to let him go.”

  “I can’t do that, sir. Besides, I suspect that his father is the other bandit, the one called Atreus.”

  “Of course he is,” snapped Asellio.

  “Sir? You knew?”

  “I have my sources.”

  Lutorius knew that wasn’t true, Asellio was a lazy and ineffectual commander, with no interest in investigative work. His eyes widened as realisation hit him.

  “He paid you off!”

  “What? How dare you?” But Asellio wouldn’t meet Lutorius’ eyes.

  “Release him,” said the centurion. “You don’t have enough evidence.”

  “No, sir. The courts can decide on the evidence.”

  “Are you disobeying an order?”

  Lutorius leaned forward, putting his hands on Asellio’s desk so he could look down at him.

  “Don’t push me, sir. If I take my doubts about you to the town council, would you really want them looking into your affairs?”

  “You would love that, wouldn’t you?” yelled Asellio. “Have me arrested too, disposed of, so you could carry on with my wife? Oh, you may think me stupid and blind, but I do have ears, and at least some of my subordinates remain loyal to me.”

  Lutorius stood, speechless. There was a knock at the door, and one of the stationarii entere
d.

  “Letter for you, sir, the delivery boy said it was urgent before he shot off.”

  Asellio ripped open the letter, read, then tossed it onto his desk, slumping backwards in his chair.

  “It’s too late,” he said. “Blaesus says let him go, or he is coming to get him. And he says if he has to come and get him, then afterwards he will let his men loose in the town. “

  “Sir, we have a century of stationarii. Trained legionaries. What does Blaesus have, but a group of hired thugs?”

  “Let him go, Lutorius.”

  “No. Sir.”

  “Then you are on your own.”

  Asellio stood.

  “What do you mean?”

  “The men are getting unfit and lazy. It’s time I took them on maneuvres. I think I will lead them on a day’s route march. Toughen them up.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yes, I’m serious,” snapped Asellio. “If you want to punish this man so badly, then it’s on your head. The fate of the town, and my whore wife, will be down to you.”

  Asellio marched out of the room, leaving Lutorius staring into space in disbelief.

  “He’ll kill you, you know. And not in one of those good ways. Cut throat. Blade in the heart. Nothing quick and painless. If I know my father, the upset to his pride will require a rather more… sophisticated approach.”

  Lutorius sat outside the cell, gripping his balled fist with his other hand in an effort not to show his tremors. He couldn’t believe Asellio had really done this. He had always suspected his superior officer was useless, but corrupt? Or was it cowardice, or even his own way of getting revenge on Lutorius and Calidia?

  Publius laughed, and the laugh echoed around the cellar that had been converted into the holding area for the stationarii when they had requisitioned this house for their headquarters. Lutorius pulled out a whetstone and ran it along his gladius, the familiar routine going some way to calming his nerves. The statio was ridiculously inadequate for defence, had never been conceived as any sort of fortress. It was merely an administrative headquarters and barracks for the legionaries detached to keep peace in the area. There had been no military action on the Italian peninsula for decades.