“Silence, dog! You will answer yes or no, or I will slit your throat here and now!”
He felt the cold steel of a blade against his neck, and nodded compliantly.
“You were aboard a ship bound for the Epirus coast,” she said. “A ship flying an orange banner?”
“Yes.”
“Do you then carry a message?”
“No.”
“Do not lie to me!” She pressed the steel deep against his neck.
“Easy with that knife, lass. I do not lie. I was assigned as bodyguard to one who carried a message, but he was killed.”
“Killed?”
“Aye.”
“And the message died with him?”
“He did tell me a few things, before he went to the afterlife,” Lucius said, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. “But I don’t like discussing business with the point of a blade in my gullet.”
From the long sigh she exuded he could tell that she was considering what she should do with him. While she paused, some of the pieces of the mystery behind Marcellus’s mission began to fall into place in Lucius’s mind. Lucius had seen this same woman, who now held a blade to his throat, three weeks ago, at Antony’s house in Rome. Lucius had been standing watch as captain of the guard and had conveyed her to Antony’s chamber, for she had claimed to bear some secret correspondence for Antony’s eyes alone. He had not seen her again that night, but the very next day he had been summoned to Antony’s lavish party and had been given the commission to escort Marcellus to Greece. He did not yet know how, or through what twist of the fates, that same woman now held a dagger to his throat, but he knew that the attempt to murder him and this woman’s mistress had to be connected to the message Marcellus had borne.
In the few moments of silence, Lucius sensed that the woman was indecisive. She was considering whether to cut his throat or get more information from him.
“Who have you told of this?” she asked finally.
“No one.”
“Listen to me, dog!” she said after a moment’s consideration. “You will say nothing about this message or your mission here. Understand? No matter what transpires, you will say nothing!”
He raised his hands, presenting the chains that bound him. “My prospects do not look fair at the moment, lass. My silence may be the death of me, should they question me in the morning.”
She instantly pressed the dagger hard enough against his skin to draw blood. “I assure you, Roman, your silence is your only chance to live. Say one word, and I will see that you die most painfully. Hold your tongue, and my mistress will help you.”
“Your mistress would help me, a common soldier?”
“Say nothing.” She was looking into his eyes, as if to find if there was any treachery there. Her eyes were menacing, but they also carried a natural alluring quality, one that even her rough temperament could not overshadow, and Lucius suddenly remembered what Antony had said about the hypnotic beauty of Asiatic women. “You will say nothing,” she repeated a final time before slithering back into the night.
Indeed there had been a moment that morning, as the charges were read out and the sentence nearly pronounced, when Lucius had considered using the information he guarded to save his own life. He did not know its true importance, but he suspected it might intrigue this Admiral Libo enough to spare him from the lash, at least for a little while.
The slightest perceptible shake of the head from Calpurnia had changed Lucius’s mind. He had taken a gamble, and had trusted her, and she had delivered. Barca had suffered in his place, and how he had suffered. Whatever evil the cruel overseer had meted out in his days strolling the planks between the benches, he had certainly now received his due reckoning. Lucius did not know exactly how Calpurnia had managed to implicate Barca, but he imagined the nimble woman who was evidently skilled at both stealth and swimming would have had little trouble planting the earrings in the overseer’s kit.
Calpurnia had lived up to her word, although Lucius was sure the noble lady had not expected the admiral to whisk him away so quickly. Certainly, she had expected Lucius to be placed back on the oars, which would have allowed her time to arrange a private meeting with him.
Now, as Lucius stared back at Libo, he sensed that the admiral was not in league with the Lady Calpurnia and had an entirely separate agenda of his own.
“I take it Barca did not like you?” Libo said. “Nor you him, I suppose.”
“I will not miss him, sir. Though, I’d have preferred to kill the bastard with my own two hands.”
“It puzzles me, though, Centurion. Why would Barca go to such elaborate means to frame you? Surely, had he wished to do away with you, he could have done it. He could have concocted any reason to have you flogged to death.”
“They wanted the lady dead, too, sir.”
“They?” Libo asked curiously.
“There were several of them, sir. At least three, apart from Barca. The others wore helmets, so I didn’t see their faces.”
“Three, you say?”
“I counted three, sir. Two were big, fighting men, the other was of slighter build.” Lucius decided not to mention anything about the ape-like creature. He was still not entirely convinced he had not hallucinated that part.
Libo stared at the table and seemed to consider for a long moment before looking up at Lucius again. “You were the one I saw on the transport – the vessel that displayed the orange pennant. You were the last survivor.”
“Indeed I was, sir.”
“Why would they single out you? Unless there is some connection between the events of last night, and your mission.” Libo eyed him peculiarly. “What was your mission, Centurion? Why were you on that ship, and what in Neptune’s trident was the meaning of the orange pennant?”
“As to the pennant, I don’t right know, sir. As to my mission, all I wished to do was rejoin my legion, but I was given an assignment to complete along the way. I was to escort a senior officer to a rendezvous in Epirus.”
“A senior officer?” Libo said quizzically. “The legate that was run through by the Greek captain?”
“The same, sir. Marcellus was his name. Though, I don’t know much else about him.”
“He said something to you before he died. Did he not?”
“Yes, sir,” Lucius said.
“Something that troubled you.” Libo had evidently detected the chord of anger in Lucius’s reply.
“The whore-spawn General Marc Antony sent me on that mission, sir. Said I could rejoin my legion once I saw Marcellus to his destination. But Antony had it out for me. He’d given orders to Marcellus to have me murdered once we reached Epirus.”
“And it was Marcellus himself who told you this?” Libo asked attentively.
“I suppose he had a moment of conscience, sir, after I’d defended him to the last. Or maybe he was just delirious. Either way, I know it in my bones that he spoke the truth in those last moments, and I’ll be sure to pay a visit to General Marcus bloody Antony should I ever set foot in Italy again.”
Libo appeared to contemplate that for a moment. “Was that all the legate told you?”
“No, sir,” Lucius said with forced hesitancy, for he had expected the question.
Libo seemed to instantly detect his reluctance to say more and assumed a more congenial disposition. “You know, Centurion, you and I have much in common.”
“We do, sir?” Lucius smiled, knowing full well he was being wooed.
“You and I are both alone on this ship. You are a soldier of Caesar’s army, a prisoner surrounded by many who would see you dead for a variety of reasons. Similarly, I have been given this command without any of my old mates whom I trusted to the core. Neither of us can trust anyone. We are duty-bound men of arms playing on a field of politicians.”
“If you say so, sir.”
“For instance, Centurion. I know that Senator Postumus is here under false pretenses. He purports to be on official business of the Senate, but undoubtedly there is some ulterior motive in that ill-tempered, gray head of his. And I am sure it has little to do with saving our republic.”