Praetorian: The Great Game Page 30

  They walked through the gardens behind the praetorium, toward the rear end of the villa, where Rufinus’ favourite haunts lay, including the abandoned theatre with the view across the plains. The young guardsman drew a nervous breath, preparing himself. It could be dangerous making enquiries of the captain, but every ounce of information on recent events might be of use when he met up with Dis.

  ‘What happened with Fastus?’ he asked quietly, a slight involuntary tremor in his voice.

  Phaestor snorted. ‘Snivelling little shit. Dis had him all tied up ready to interrogate. I know Dis, too. The traitor would have sold out his mother when Dis got started with the pokers. But after the first blow, the little runt’s damn heart gave out. I was there and I’ve never seen such a thing in my life.’

  Rufinus nodded, his heart aching for the poor innocent Fastus.

  ‘Tied there, hanging from the ceiling. Dis gave him a clout round the side of the head just to warm him up. Not even a hard one, and the man just convulsed, drooled and died there that very moment.’

  They walked on in silence for a moment while Rufinus pictured the scene unhappily. The Frumentarius must have slipped some sort of poison or drug to the man to free him from the inevitability of torture. At least that was a small mercy. He…

  ‘Just why did Dis send you to the city?’

  The question caught Rufinus off guard and he tried to hide the panic thrilling through him.

  ‘I’m not really sure.’ It was another gamble, deliberately misunderstanding the question. ‘He could have sent anyone. Maybe to keep me out of the way while he dealt with Fastus?’

  Phaestor frowned and Rufinus’ heart started to pound so loud he felt it must be audible in the crisp, cold air. The captain regarded him with interest as they left the flagged and gravelled paths of the garden and crossed the lawn that ran parallel with the vineyard, the grass still white with frost where shadows had kept the sun from warming it.

  Uncomfortable, Rufinus turned his head to face the pale, cold sun, drinking in the pathetic warmth it gave off, aware of the captain’s penetrating gaze on the back of his head. They walked on in an increasingly uncomfortable silence and ducked into the woodland that occupied the southern end of the estate, an area rarely patrolled due to the terrain and the lack of anything worth protecting. It would naturally be the best hunting ground, full of wildlife and hiding spots.

  Following a game trail clearly already known to Phaestor, they crunched deeper into the woodland, Rufinus moving carefully so as not to catch his sling on the jutting branches and twigs.

  ‘Dis?’ Phaestor called quietly. ‘Dis? It’s Phaestor and Marcius. Don’t get too twitchy with that bow if you see something moving.’

  The only answer was the rustle of leaves and the faint whistle of the wind through the trees. Then, somewhere up ahead there was the deep, throaty bark of a large dog. Phaestor nodded to Rufinus and they turned onto a side track that ran through the deeper woodland, barely a man wide, hoof prints of a young deer tracking through the hard mud. Briefly, they crossed a small, grassy clearing, the grass white and stiff with frost, shaded by the trees and untouched by the sunlight, then they were back into the stygian gloom of the woods.

  The trail curled and twisted through the woodland and Rufinus was increasingly grateful that Phaestor had taken the lead, since the man’s almost accusatory stare was becoming most uncomfortable. After a few moments they turned a sharp bend in the path and strode out into a wide strip of grass that ran across the woodland. As they passed out into the open, they crossed the crumbled remains the estate’s boundary wall, now untended and fallen in heaps.

  Phaestor was peering off to left and right for any sign of the huge black dogs. Rufinus’ gaze, however, was drawn directly ahead.

  ‘Phaestor…’

  ‘You’d think you’d at least be able to see those damn monster dogs crashing around.’

  Rufinus reached out with his good arm and grabbed the man’s shoulder, turning him to face across the grassy swathe. ‘Phaestor…’

  Finally, a little confused, the captain’s gaze followed that of his companion and fell on the sight that had so transfixed Rufinus. He made a small gasping noise and then started to walk slowly across the grass, white blades crunching underfoot.

  Rufinus followed him towards the body on the edge of the forest opposite, partially obscured by the hanging foliage. Dis hung ingloriously, toes two feet from the ground, each wrist strapped to the bole of a tree with leather bindings. He was naked to the waist, hanging limply like a crucified man. How Rufinus knew immediately it was the Frumentarius, he couldn’t say, since the head had dropped down on to the chest and all they could see was top of his head, but somehow he knew.

  The swathe of crimson on the man’s chest told them everything they needed to know. The amount of blood and its location were the product of a cut throat - both men had seen it before.

  ‘Oh, shit.’

  Rufinus was moving faster now, ducking under a projecting branch and closing on the body. Phaestor was at his side a moment later as they reached Dis’ hanging corpse.

  Gingerly, Phaestor reached out and lifted the head to confirm what they already knew. It was definitely the captain’s second, his hollow eyes now devoid of life. His throat had been severed with a deep rent, hacked rather than sliced, by a strong blow. Probably backhand, judging by depth, shape and angle. With a growl of anger, Phaestor lowered the head once more. Gloopy, half-clotted blood fell away from the disturbed wound.

  The captain turned, his face like thunder. ‘If I find out you had anything to do with this…’

  But Rufinus was already moving closer to the body. The huge red slick of blood coating the man’s torso was covering more than simple skin. Taking a deep breath, Rufinus reached for the canteen of water that hung from his belt. Lifting it, he unstoppered the top and threw the contents at the slick of blood, watching as the water washed the torrents down into the corpse’s already blood-soaked breeches.

  Phaestor stared at him. ‘What the hell are you…?’

  Rufinus held up a hand to interrupt him and then turned it to point at the body. The slick gone, rivulets of red winding down the torso, it was now much easier to see the word carved across the man’s chest with a sharp knife.

  FRVMENTARIVS

  Phaestor stared for a long moment and moved closer, his eyes picking out every detail, reaching out to touch the carved skin and pausing just short.

  ‘More than just a simple attack, sir’ Rufinus said quietly to Phaestor.

  ‘I want to find who did this and cut them into very thin strips, Marcius.’

  The man straightened. ‘Perhaps your bandits on the road were a little more than that? What if they were looking for Dis? And where are his damn dogs, then? They never leave his side unless he tells them to. Surely they’d protect him?’

  Rufinus pointed into the woods to their left, where a large, black shape lay, purple glistening innards in a pile beside it.

  ‘Oh, Hades, Tarterus and bollocks.’

  Rufinus stepped back out of the trees, looking up and down the grassy meadow.

  ‘The blood’s only recently started to congeal. This was done recently. Not more than a quarter of an hour or so ago.’

  Phaestor nodded as he wandered over to the body of the mutilated dog. ‘Then they could still be in the woodland. We need to get the entire staff out. There’s an alarm bell up near the old theatre.’

  The man turned to see Rufinus shaking his head. ‘We’ll not catch them. They’re already gone.’

  Phaestor hurried across to where Rufinus was gazing down at the ground, his brow furrowed in concentration. ‘What is it?’

  Rufinus was starting at the depressions in the white grass, where the frost had been crushed by a great deal of activity; activity that told him a lot more than he wanted to know. It told him who the killers were, though he could hardly pass that on to the captain.

  ‘Half a dozen men or more,’ he said, pointing
and gesticulating around the grassy area. ‘They rode from the main track along this greensward and tied up their horses over there. You can just make out the tracks in the frost; thank the Gods for keeping this place out of the sunlight. If he’s bled out and clotted, they’ve been gone for maybe quarter of an hour. On a fast horse and galloping, they could be halfway to Rome by now.’

  Phaestor narrowed his eyes. ‘How do you know all this?’ he asked, suspiciously.

  ‘Used to hunt with my brother - and ride. Not for a long time now, since…’ his voice tailed off, cracking slightly. A deep breath. ‘But I’ll tell you something else too: I used to be a legionary, and I recognise the work of soldiers when I see it. The hoof-prints are in formation, which is a dead giveaway. Besides, they didn’t cut his throat with a knife like a common thug. They took a swing at it with a sharp sword of some length. I’m guessing a spatha - a cavalry sword. This is the work of legionary horsemen. Whatever the hell’s happened here, I’m not really sure we’d want to catch up with them!’

  Phaestor was nodding in disbelief. ‘So what? They were Frumentarii? Is that what that was in aid of? What would the Frumentarii want with Dis? I mean, he was a cold bastard and probably had a shady enough past, but…’

  Rufinus shook his head. ‘My guess is that Dis was Frumentarius. Could that be possible?’

  Phaestor blinked. ‘Dis? But he’s my best man. Been here since…’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Since the empress first occupied the palace. Are you suggesting he’s been working for the emperor for a year, right under my nose?’

  ‘It’s possible.’ Rufinus shrugged.

  Phaestor glared at him, the dark gaze conveying his own opinions on the matter. But as they stood in uncomfortable silence, Rufinus saw a cold, hard light dawn in the man’s eyes as he ran through everything in his head. Finally, he nodded, finger tapping his lip.

  ‘That would maybe explain Fastus’ sudden death. If he was Frumentarius, and the pair were in league, Dis would have to get rid of him before he talked.’

  His brow furrowed again as he turned to Rufinus. ‘Just what did he send you to Rome for?’

  Rufinus swallowed. The removal of Dis freed him to spin whatever tale he wished.

  ‘I was sent to wait in a tavern in the Subura. I was supposed to sit there every day until someone came to me and asked me how the weather was in Hades.’ It was all fanciful, children’s espionage stuff, but it seemed plausible.

  ‘And?’

  ‘Well I was a couple of hours late, ‘cause I had to find a Greek and get my wounds seen to. But I went to the tavern and the man found me the first night I was there and sent me back to Dis with an answer.’

  Phaestor gestured impatiently. ‘And?’

  ‘The answer was ‘yes’. I don’t even know what the question was, so it’s no help.’

  ‘You uncover his companion, so he gets you out of the way and then offs the accomplice. But what about this? Why are cavalrymen after him? Why kill him? Why here? Why leave us the reason carved in his chest?’

  Rufinus shrugged. ‘No idea. Could be something to do with the message I was sent for? Could be anything. All I know is that when I served with the legions, no one liked the Frumentarii. They’re a dubious bunch, and dangerous too. Even officers high up in the legions hate and fear them. His death might be completely unconnected with the villa?’

  Phaestor nodded again slowly. ‘I’d like to confirm the truth of this somehow, though Dis was the one with all the damn contacts in Rome!’ He smacked his fist into his palm.

  ‘I’ll send a burial detail out here as soon as we get back. This sort of thing should stay under wraps as much as possible. I’m going to have to tell the empress, though. If her brother’s got his spies and assassins in her villa, she’ll need to know.’

  Rufinus, nodding, turned at a strange whining noise. A large, black dog stood beneath the hanging branches of the trees, watching them and issuing a low keening noise that sounded like the very soul of sorrow.

  Phaestor peered at it. ‘Acheron.’

  Rufinus took two steps toward the dog, who issued a low growl.

  ‘Don’t be an idiot’ Phaestor snapped. ‘No one can go near those monsters but him.’

  But Rufinus stepped closer. Two more steps. Then two more. The growling died away. He couldn’t explain it, but somehow he felt that the dog wouldn’t hurt him. Another three steps and he was close enough to see Acheron clearly. The enormous beast had a gash along his hind-quarters that glistened pink and white. The wound was bad, though not life threatening if it was dealt with soon.

  ‘Here, Acheron. Come on, boy.’

  To Phaestor’s surprise, the black beast padded slowly and painfully out of the shadows, limping on its hind leg, and walked calmly up to Rufinus with a whimper. Rufinus dropped to his knees and smoothed the hair on Acheron’s neck.

  ‘I know. Come on, boy.’

  He turned, ruffling the hair behind the dog’s ears, and walked back across the grass, the huge hunting hound following obediently at his heel. Phaestor stared. ‘Venus, shag me stupid! I’ve never seen anyone but Dis that can get within five paces of that monster without losing a hand.’

  Rufinus nodded. ‘He’s frightened. Just lost his brother and his master and he’s in pain. You can’t blame a dog for his master’s sins.’

  Phaestor stared nervously at the beast and reached out a tentative hand. The dog snarled, lip pulling back from large, yellowed fangs. The captain snatched his hand back. ‘Just keep the thing away from me.’

  Rufinus patted the dog on the head and Phaestor shook his. ‘Come on. Have that thing penned somewhere safe, get your gear stowed and kit up, then report to Vettius for duty. I’ve got to go tell the empress what’s happened and then arrange for cremation and burial. This is really going to make her day,’ he added sourly.

  Without further pause, Phaestor clambered over the low, ruined wall and back into the deer-path that led off toward the villa. Rufinus followed along behind a few paces, Acheron trotting awkwardly at heel.

  As he walked, letting Phaestor move ahead and open up the gap between them, and now that he wasn’t struggling to pull together excuses and lies, for the first time he realised just how thoroughly, violently, dangerously angry he was. What in the name of Jupiter, greatest and best, did Paternus think he was going to achieve sending out a detachment of Praetorian cavalry to murder the Frumentarius? In what chaotic, Gods-forsaken world was it acceptable for the emperor’s guard to murder the emperor’s agents merely to gain an advantage in a task that shouldn’t be theirs in the first place?

  His feet crunched through the undergrowth as he ground his teeth, seething anger roaring through his veins. There would be a reckoning when all of this was over. The job still needed doing, more than ever now, given how Dis had been needlessly sacrificed just to facilitate his return, but when it was done…

  Mercator and Icarion had been right about the older prefect. He was going to fall, and when he did so, he would not bring Rufinus down. The man had crossed a line, and ties had to be severed. His brow furrowed and his teeth ground louder. He would also remember one or two of those cavalrymen’s faces that were already strangely etched in his mind.

  Moments later, the pair arrived at the rear of the praetorium and Phaestor nodded once at him, sparing an uncertain glance for the huge black canine at his ankle, and veered off to the right, heading for the main bulk of the palace. Rufinus skirted the Praetorian quarters, Acheron close at heel, passing the room where his gear remained, and made for the doorway into Pompeianus’ stadium-shaped garden.

  Still seething angrily and wearing a thunderous look, he rapped on the door and, as the servant opened it, pointed down at the large dog.

  ‘I know you’re trained for humans and not animal treatment, but it’s a sword wound and I know you can deal with that. I’ll pay you in good coin to treat him.’

  The servant frowned and looked down at the animal, his eyes widening. ‘That’
s master Dis’ dog.’

  ‘Not anymore’ Rufinus replied in a matter-of-fact voice that brooked no argument. ‘You can treat him, yes?’

  The servant shied away against the wall. ‘Only if he lets me near him. That dog attacks people a little too freely.’

  Rufinus shook his head. ‘He’ll be gentle as a puppy. But just in case, you might want to feed him some of your knock-out stuff.’

  The servant licked his lips nervously. ‘I’ll… err… come in and take him into the big room out back and right. I’ll get my bag.’ As Rufinus padded into the corridor, walking the dog through the atrium and to the room indicated, the servant scurried off. Acheron crossed to the centre of the wide, marble floor and stood, looking forlorn, unable to lie down comfortably.

  ‘You’ll be alright boy. The man’s a medicus. Then we’re going to have to decide what to do with you. You certainly can’t stay in the room with me and Glaucus.

  ‘Perhaps he’ll stay here?’ a voice called quietly from behind.

  Turning, Rufinus smiled at the former general, feeling some of the tension slip away from him merely at the man’s presence. ‘Not sure he’ll do that, but it might be worth a try.’

  Pompeianus strode into the room and took a seat a safe distance from the large black dog. ‘What’s happened? Why is he not with his master?’

  Rufinus let out a long, slow breath. ‘I’m not sure where to start.’

  ‘At the beginning,’ the Syrian suggested, ‘but as succinctly as possible’ he added with a smile. ‘Salient points only.’

  Rufinus nodded and collapsed into a seat next to Acheron, who watched Pompeianus with glowering, dangerous eyes. The medicus shuffled into the room with his bag and approached the dog gingerly. Rufinus raised his eyebrows.