by Nick Brown
'Morning, Galeo.'
'My apologies but the sentries must search you – as they do all who enter here.'
'No need to apologise. I approve entirely.'
Volosus had left his sword and dagger with Bibulus. He raised his hands as one of the four sentries patted him down for hidden weapons.
'Busy morning, Galeo?'
'We don't seem to have any other kind these days, sir.'
'I dare say you'd rather be back at the palace.'
'No comment, sir.'
With the search concluded, Galeo ushered Volosus forward. They passed between two more spear-bearing sentries and entered the tent. There had clearly not been time to unload the emperor's furniture; only several chairs and a single large map table had been laid out.
Sitting together in front of it were Gaius Pius Esuvius Tetricus and his son, Caius. To most Romans east of the Alps, he was a usurper. To most Romans in Gaul, he was simply the Emperor; a man elevated to the purple by the Army of the Rhine; a protector who had won many campaigns against the powerful Germanic tribes.
Volosus was far beyond concerning himself with the rights and wrongs of the situation. Over the course of fifteen years – from his time as commander of the Imperial Security Service in the province of Aquitania to the present day – he had endeavoured to make himself invaluable to Tetricus. They had first met when Tetricus had been governor of that province but those times now seemed impossibly distant. Under his rule, the Service apparatus had long abandoned all links with Rome and was now the domain of Volosus and his network of spies, informers and assassins. Tetricus arguably needed him now more than ever, and his welcome was appropriately warm.
'Ah, Tiberius, I am glad to see you. How was your journey?' Tetricus stood and walked around his son to where his guest waited. He wore his usual vivid purple cloak over a golden muscle cuirass. Volosus was surprised to note the brightness in his eyes and the spring in his step. Though he was only in his early forties, the pressures of rule had taken a toll on the man. Recently, he had grown sullen and morose as Aurelian's victories in the East piled up.
'Fine, thank you, imperator,' said Volosus with a bow. 'How are you faring?'
'Do you know – now that I'm down here and it is all so … immediate, I feel a little better. The prefects are in good spirits, as are the men. As long as the northern tribes do not trouble us, we should have time to send the farmhand back across the Alps.'
Volosus gave a thin smile. It seemed the emperor had neglected his advice about not using that term. While it was true that Aurelian hailed from lowly stock, so did a good many of Tetricus's officers. Still, what could you expect from an aristocrat?
Tetricus gestured back at his son. 'Caius does enjoy studying the dispositions. And thanks to your information, we now have a rather better idea of where our enemies are.'
Volosus bowed to the youngster, who acknowledged him with a wary glance. He was a tall lad of sixteen, handsome but rather dull-witted. Tetricus had conferred numerous honours on Caius and raised him to the rank of consul, announcing the honour via an issue of coinage. The move was designed to strengthen his dynasty and therefore the loyalty of his troops. Volosus had not been consulted but he would have advised against the move; to him, it seemed rather desperate.
'So,' said Tetricus, running a hand across a freshly-shaved jaw. 'We were scheduled to meet down in Cavillonum, were we not? Is there something urgent?'
'Indeed, imperator, urgent and … rather involved. I have identified a significant opportunity to learn even more about our enemy's intentions.'
'Is that so? Come, let us sit.'
Galeo grabbed some cushions as the emperor neared a high-backed chair but Tetricus waved him away. 'Open a flap or two, it's terribly stuffy.'
Galeo bowed low and departed swiftly. The emperor sat down.
Volosus took a chair opposite, adjusting the hem of his tunic over his knees.
'Do go on,' said Tetricus, grimacing slightly at the weight of his golden cuirass.
'It is Aurelian's custom to appoint a senior, favoured general to coordinate his campaigns. Typically, this individual will create strategic plans alongside him and – after a period of evaluation – implement them. Aurelian does not ascribe a formal title to this role, perhaps for reasons of security. As you yourself know, sir, direct reports from the legions have a tendency to reflect the self-interest of that legion and prefects are prone to competition.'
'Indeed, though I have weeded out the worst offenders among my staff.'
Volosus felt he deserved rather more credit than that; he had identified most of them.
'Quite so. I knew that this man would be one of five or six Aurelian has used in the past but I was having difficulty confirming his identity. That has become possible in the last week and the name is no surprise; Statius Erucius Dolabella – a cousin of Aurelian's who contributed much to his recent campaign against the Goths. He has been touring the border areas and forward units and is reporting back to Aurelian on a daily basis. I have no doubt that Dolabella knows more about his master's plan of attack than any man alive. Imperator, my proposal is that we capture him, learn all we can, and strike before Aurelian can react. He is advancing across a front of over three hundred miles and cannot hope to respond effectively in time.'
The truth, of course, was rather more complicated, but the emperor didn't need to hear that. Volosus knew his operation could be crucial. He thumped a fist into a palm for effect. 'We become the aggressor; we dictate the battle.'
Tetricus wrung his hands and looked down at the great patterned carpet that covered most of the ground beneath the tent. 'An appealing concept but snatching a senior officer like that, it doesn't seem very … gentlemanly. I can't imagine the prefects approving.'
Neither could Volosus, but he did not proffer a view on the subject.
'It is simply too good an opportunity to pass up, sir. Spring will soon become summer and we know that Aurelian has the majority of his legions in place. He could strike at any time. This could give us a significant advantage.'
That Volosus did believe, though he knew the odds were still stacked against them. In remaining loyal to Tetricus, he had made his choice in full knowledge of the possible consequences. But defeat and the subsequent reintegration of the west would make his life extremely dangerous. Volosus had no doubt that his name was on a list of those to be eliminated following a victory for Aurelian. He had been too successful.
Tetricus scratched his chin with a well-manicured fingernail. 'Unfortunately, I must consider my possible treatment as a defeated party. This kind of tactic is the type of thing that might anger my rival.'
'Imperator, I would ask you to compare my rate of success with your other advisers and generals.'
Tetricus nodded thoughtfully. 'It would seem so very … underhand though.'
'I would not suggest such an operation if I did not think it essential. The Army of the Rhine is of course a force of tremendous size and power. You command four legions. But Aurelian has six, and can bring in more if he needs them. I am offering you the chance to take the initiative and force him back across the Alpine passes before he knows what's hit him. We may able to re-establish the previous stalemate. You could return north; live in peace.'
'How confident are you that you can do this?'
'I know my target now,’ said Volosus. ‘And I know I can get what we need from him. The hardest part is capturing him. But I don’t anticipate any great difficulty. Dolabella has a taste for whores – the younger and more beautiful the better.'
'Ah, the honey trap – one of your specialities, Volosus.'
Another long gaze at the carpet, then a sharp look up and a glint in the eye. 'I shall not ask the prefects. I shall tell them.'
Volosus put up both hands. 'Only when I have him – I beg you, imperator. Absolute secrecy and security is essential.'
‘Very well.’
‘I will need something else, sir – a secure, isolated location in wh
ich to hold him. The ancient fortress at Ecthya would be perfect.’
‘Is it inhabited?’
‘Yes, sir. I believe Prefect Clemens has stationed a unit there – it is an excellent observation post.’
Tetricus stood; and Volosus followed a moment later.
'I shall despatch the order to Clemens at once. And you must see the treasurer, of course. Take as much money as you need.'
'Very well, sir. I thank you.'
The road between the emperor's encampment and the city of Cavillonum was packed with troops. Though progress was slowed by the soldiers and supply convoys moving in both directions, Volosus arrived in good time for his first appointment at the ninth hour.
Handing over their mounts to a stable lad, he and Bibulus followed another servant into a large courtyard behind an equally large townhouse. Their host was overseeing the running of a fine grey stallion in a nearby paddock but he hurried over when informed his guests had arrived. Volosus had known Tiburtius for several years. As well as supplying exceptional horses, he also supplied exceptional men.
'Greetings, Master Volosus.'
His correct title was 'officer' but it seldom served his purposes to use it.
'Greetings.'
They shook forearms. At first sight, Tiburtius's chubby face and warm manner were disarming. Volosus had learned long ago that his appearance masked an exceptionally astute mind.
He aimed a finger at the paddock. 'I imagine business is good, what with the encampment so close?'
'Exceptionally good. That beast is for a tribune in the Eighth – wants to spend at least twenty aurei. My kind of customer.'
'And what of your human stock?'
'I shall have them brought out. Some wine?'
'Most kind.'
'Please.' Before departing, Tiburtius gestured to a nearby bench in a shaded part of the courtyard. Volosus was glad to sit down. Bibulus of course remained standing. The sore on his cheek showed no sign of healing.
'You must get that seen to while we're in town. Your face is unpleasant enough without me having to look at that too.'
Bibulus accepted this with a tired nod.
Volosus’s thoughts turned to his last bodyguard, a powerful Egyptian who'd been killed by bandits during their previous assignment. 'I’m sure Tiburtius will have some fine specimens but I doubt we’ll find anyone of Sarapi's quality.'
'Poor bastard. Didn't say much but I never worried with him around.'
'He didn't exactly blend into the background but, by Mars, what a warrior.'
The servant reappeared with the wine, which Volosus was glad to find only slightly watered. He told the man to leave the jug and looked on as Tiburtius led out four men. The host lined them up neatly, then went to stand by his client.
'I have narrowed the field down, of course. These four all come with excellent references and experience.'
Tiburtius pointed at the first man: a squat, narrow-eyed fellow of at least fifty. He wore modest clothing but his sword and belt were of the finest quality. 'Ennius, a former centurion and veteran of the Thirtieth Legion. He protected a merchant and his family for five years. An outstanding letter of recommendation.'
Ennius bowed low.
The second man was around thirty, also short but slender in face and body.
Tiburtius noted his client's reaction. 'Do not be deceived by appearances. Balbus trained under his father for five years and is a master of every kind of blade.'
Volosus knew of Balbus senior – a former professional gladiator who had guarded numerous luminaries. 'Well, that is quite a recommendation in itself.'
As Balbus bowed, Volosus shifted his gaze to the next man. He was tall and rangy, and carried a spear over his shoulder as well as two knives on his belt. One eye was covered with a patch; one hand was missing three fingers.
'Vitus, a Goth mercenary. Comes by recommendation of a tribune from the Fifth. He tells me Vitus killed more of his own countrymen than any soldier in his legion.’
Vitus's bow was barely perceptible. Volosus did not care; the man was clearly ruthless and by far the most intimidating of the four.
'And last – Pantheras. Greek. Former bodyguard to Cassius Numerius Celsus.'
'As in Celsus Shipping?'
'One and the same,' answered Tiburtius. 'He died two months ago so Pantheras is in need of employment.' The Greek was solidly built and armed with dagger, sword and cudgel. Volosus was not encouraged by the paunch that hung unpleasantly over his belt.
'I have seen all four of them fight,' declared Tiburtius. 'Every one is exceptional.'
'Wooden swords, I suppose?
Tiburtius conceded the point with a shrug.
Volosus stood. 'Never tells us much.' He approached the first man: Ennius, the former soldier. Volosus didn't require that a bodyguard be a genius, merely that he be vigilant, shrewd and unafraid to get his hands bloody. He was about to ask Ennius the first of several questions when the servant hurried out of the house.
'Er, Master Tiburtius, there is a man at the door who says he would like to put himself forward for the position of bodyguard.'
'Do you know him?'
'No, sir. It's not one of the listed candidates. I’m certain I would have remembered.'
'Why do you say that?'
'He is rather … distinctive, sir.'
Tiburtius turned to Volosus, who nodded his assent.
‘Then bring him through.’
The four candidates looked rather annoyed at this development. Volosus picked up his mug and by the time he'd finished his wine, the servant had returned. He moved aside and ushered the new arrival forward.
The doorway was large but the giant figure who stepped out into the sunlight had to bend his head to negotiate it. When he stretched out to his full height, he dwarfed even the lanky Goth mercenary. The other four candidates’ annoyance turned to what looked like disappointment.
Volosus estimated that the new man could not be much less than seven feet tall. His shoulders, chest and neck were quite remarkably broad. His face was chiselled, his hair thick and fair. When he opened his mouth, Volosus expected some guttural growl. In fact, his Latin was delivered in a middling tone with considerable clarity.
'Please excuse me. I became aware of the position only today and wanted to offer my services. My name is Gutha.'
He was wearing a grey cloak and tunic with a thick, silver belt and well-made boots.
'Ah,' said Tiburtius. 'Welcome, Gutha.'
Volosus noted the double-bladed axe hanging from his shoulder. Sleeves of what looked like sackcloth had been put over the blade-edges. The weapon was so large that he doubted any but its owner could have wielded it.
'What can you tell us about yourself, Gutha?' asked Tiburtius.
'I suppose you would call me a mercenary. Unlikely as it sounds, I grew up in the East and operated successfully there for many years. Circumstances dictated that I had to leave and I've been working my way west ever since. There was a time when I offered a number of services but I prefer simple bodyguard duties these days.'
'How good are you?'
Gutha shrugged. 'I've never had any complaints.'
'Is it all right if I leave?'
Volosus turned to Ennius. 'Isn't that a tad premature?'
'Not really,' said the bulky ex-soldier, 'it's obvious you're going to choose him.'
'It is,' added the Goth, Vitus. 'And you should.'
Tiburtius seemed dismayed by the swiftness of their surrender.
'Oh,' said Volosus. 'Why is that?'
Vitus answered: 'The name of Gutha is well known in the eastern provinces. He fought with the Arabians against the Persians. He slayed so many at the Battle of Dumata that the bodies were piled up all around him. Dozens.'
Volosus and the others all turned to the new arrival.
Gutha shrugged again. 'I don't know about dozens. A dozen, possibly.'
Volosus found himself rather excited by this development. Whatever occurred over t
he next few weeks and months, a good bodyguard might prove invaluable. And this giant was the best type of all. Like the Egyptian, Sarapi; he would deter all but the most courageous or foolish simply by virtue of his appearance.
The veteran Ennius sighed and shook his head. The other three looked at Tiburtius who in turn looked at Volosus.
'The rate is one and a half aurei a week.'
'Two,' replied Gutha. 'I couldn't possibly go lower than two. Sir.'
Volosus was glad to see he was a tough negotiator.
'Two it is. To be paid at the end of every week.'
'As you wish.'
Tiburtius reached into the moneybag on his belt and handed each of the other candidates a denarius. 'For your trouble.'
As they trooped out of the courtyard, Gutha strode over to his new employer. Volosus was amused to note that his frame actually blocked out the sun.
'How do feel about killing, Gutha?'
'I cannot say that I have ever enjoyed it. Though I have done a lot of it.'
'I think you and I shall get on very well.'
The second appointment of the day was conducted in a brothel in the centre of Cavillonum. Volosus sat with the owner's wife, having left Gutha to tidy up his affairs and Bibulus to find some accommodation.
'You seem rather tired,' observed his hostess.
'A little. Trying times, I'm afraid.'
'How do you think it will go? I know no one in a better position to judge the emperor's chances.'
Volosus pretended to consider his answer. ‘I think it will go well.'
'Really?' They were sitting together on a couch. She leaned in close. 'Just between the two of us.'
'Honestly.'
Like Tiburtius, Master and Mistress Damianos were long-standing contacts. They had supplied Volosus with girls of the highest quality on many occasions; some for operations, some for his own use. Master Damianos was currently downstairs entertaining the affluent members of a mining guild. Volosus guessed that Mistress Damianos was no older than him – he had turned fifty the previous year – but her excessive make-up actually made her look older.
A nearby lantern hissed as the wick grew low. Mistress Damianos got up to blow it out, then returned to the couch. Volosus cast his eyes towards the far end of the room, which was partitioned off by a thick, red curtain. Over the years, he had seen several musical and theatrical performances here. The quality of the entertainment had often been questionable; the quality of the performers outstanding.
