The legionary in charge stared at the slave for a while, just to show that he was only obeying because he chose to do so, and then led his men off.
‘Ah, Ferox, my dear fellow, it seems we have both been in the wars.’ Ovidius was propped up in bed, his face pale, almost grey, in the lamplight. The legate’s own physician, an Alexandrian whose fame almost equalled his self-esteem, worked at a table mixing something in a bowl.
‘The bastards stabbed him.’ Ferox had not seen Crispinus sitting on a stool and working alongside a clerk at a table they had somehow crammed into the room.
‘No need for vulgarity,’ Ovidius said. He coughed and winced because the movement obviously caused him a lot of pain.
‘They stuck a knife in you, old friend,’ the tribune said softly. ‘And murdered two of my uncle’s slaves.’
‘Did they?’ Ovidius frowned with the effort of thought. ‘Yes, of course they did. Bastards.’
Crispinus smiled, but his face betrayed his worry. It was the first time Ferox had seen the tribune with stubble on his chin and a tunic that look crumpled and dirty.
‘And where the hell have you been?’ Crispinus glared at the centurion. ‘The legate wanted you last night and you were nowhere to be found.’ The story came out quickly. A report had arrived of a large band of rebels or bandits threatening the roads near Verulamium and even the town itself. Neratius Marcellus had taken most of his mounted singulares, supplementing these picked men with any other horsemen who could be rounded up and issued supplies in a matter of hours, and ridden off to see what was going on. ‘He wanted you with him, but no one could find you.’
After the legate had gone, someone had broken into the praetorium, getting in by prising open the shutters on one of the top windows. ‘There’s building going on behind the house, so we reckon they took a ladder from there. We do not know who they were or how many.’
‘There were three,’ Ovidius cut in. ‘Two men and a woman.’
‘Do not tire yourself,’ the doctor said without looking up from his work. ‘And do not put strain on those stitches. I refuse to let my patients die until I say so.’
Ovidius managed to laugh. ‘This is important, good doctor, and soon I trust that your potion will give me blissful sleep.
‘I was on my way to the legate’s room. He had taken one of the documents I have found and I needed to check something. There were voices, a man and woman talking, though I could not catch the words. I called out, thinking it must be some of his household and not wanting to alarm them by appearing suddenly. Slaves can be nervous if you surprise them when they are doing something they should not, so it is always better to warn of your approach. Then the woman started screaming for help. I ran in…’
‘Of course, our aged Hector.’ Crispinus was grinning.
‘Well, I ran in. Saw a man, his arm raised to strike a cowering woman, and I punched him. I’d forgotten I had a stylus in my hand and the point was sharp enough to draw blood. He yelped and jumped in the air, then another one came at me and as I turned to face him, I was struck in the side. The woman had stabbed me.’ The old man sounded truly puzzled.
‘What did they look like?’ Ferox asked.
Ovidius shook his head. His skin seemed even paler apart from the dark rings around his eyes, but there was a proud defiance in his face. ‘I do not really know. It was dark in there, and everything happened so fast. Their clothes were drab. The one I stabbed had a shaven head, the other dark hair. The woman was pretty, I think, quite tall and full figured.’
Crispinus smirked. ‘You are not that old then.’
‘What colour hair did she have?’ Ferox asked.
‘Dark, probably. I think so anyway. There was not much light, and it is hard to say. I am sorry, but what matters is that they stole the cloak. The chest was in that room, and they prised it open.’
‘Was that all?’
‘Yes. Well, apart from a scroll that was on the table. It was written by Prasto, but I believe would not be much use unless you already had a good understanding of this matter. But you know what this means?’
Ferox nodded. Someone close to the legate must have told the thieves what to take and where to find it. ‘Acco is in Londinium.’
Crispinus gasped, and then recovered his poise almost immediately. ‘Here. Are you sure?’
‘He tried to burn me to death last night.’
‘That sounds definite.’ Ovidius laughed and it did not seem to cause him pain. ‘Well, we are glad he failed in his attempt. Are we not, noble Crispinus?’
‘Fairly glad.’ The white haired young aristocrat was grinning broadly. If he had recognised Ferox at the warehouse then he was hiding it well.
‘Quiet, all of you.’ The doctor had come over to the bed and was holding a bowl. ‘That is enough.’
‘Not yet, doctor, I pray you.’ Ovidius pushed himself to sit up a little more. ‘This is important. The legate left orders for the centurion, but I must explain some of them.’ He was struggling for breath, but waved the doctor back.
‘We are to go to Mona,’ Crispinus said. ‘We will take your men and an escort of Batavians, but we must go within the hour. If Acco was in Londinium a few hours ago then we may have a chance to beat him there. The legate wants us to find the last of these treasures and keep them safe or destroy them. He has written our orders, and we are just making up the passes and letters instructing all garrisons to aid us.’
‘I have made notes, some from memory.’ Ovidius winced and closed his eyes The pain was obviously growing, but he struggled on. ‘Prasto returned to the island when Agricola attacked. He describes an old shrine and I am sure he believed that items of the greatest value were buried or somehow hidden there. It is the best I can manage, I am afraid, but hopefully will guide you.’ He was gasping for breath.
‘That is enough.’ The doctor was a small man, yet somehow managed to loom over the room. He crouched beside the old man and held a small bowl to his lips. ‘Drink this. It will help.’
There was the sound of shouting from outside and the door was flung open. Crassus stood in the doorway, his face red. He saw the doctor and the injured man and sagged a little, but then noticed Ferox and the anger returned.
‘This man is a murderer. He should be under guard until the trial and punishment can be arranged. Hercules’ balls, why is he here and not in a cell?’
Ferox stiffened to attention. The young tribune stood up, and Crassus flinched slightly because he had not seen him in the corner of the room. ‘Noble Crassus, it is good to see you.’ The tribune smiled warmly. ‘I shall personally ensure that the centurion is kept under close watch, but for the moment the legate has need of him, and so do I.’
‘Neratius Marcellus is no longer here, and left before the crime was known. I am now senior, and thus in charge until the governor returns. I shall take full responsibility.’ Ferox got the impression that Crassus did not much care for the younger man. ‘He is to be locked in a cell and that is an end to it.’
‘I have written orders, if you would care to read them, signed and sealed by my uncle. He requires Ferox for a special task, the importance of which overrides everything else – at least for the moment.’
‘What task?’
‘I am sure that in due course the governor will confide in his senior and trusted subordinates.’
‘Not good enough. Not good enough at all, dear Crispinus. This is too delicate a matter for me to take a risk, surely you must see that. I have authority and I have made the decision.’