“What is the delay, Lucius?” the admiral demanded from the stern deck.
Lucius had only moments to respond, and Pullo seemed to comprehend this.
“Search the hem of my cloak, Lucius,” Pullo said quickly. “You will find a message there. You must get it to Antony! If ever you were a loyal soldier to Caesar, you must do this!”
Lucius paused only a heartbeat longer, just long enough to tap the cold blade on Pullo’s bare shoulder that the knight might go to his death knowing that, if it was within Lucius’s power, the message would be delivered. Pullo nodded slightly and closed his eyes.
The next instant, steel flashed beneath the gray sky. The knight’s head left his shoulders, falling straight down and rolling away at the next pitch of the deck. It was a feat of swordsmanship that left all around him staring with open-mouths, including Libo and Postumus. They were still staring as Lucius silently returned the dripping blade to the marine.
Libo gave Postumus a triumphant look. “I would say his loyalty is without question. Wouldn’t you, Senator?”
Both men watched as Lucius dutifully folded the cloak around the headless body, carefully patted the wrinkles smooth, and dragged the dead man away to be buried at sea.
Libo saw Postumus and Flavius exchange knowing glances, and then the senator turned to face him.
“We must meet, Admiral,” Postumus said bluntly. “We must speak with you in private.”
XXIII
“We have, perhaps, gotten off on the wrong foot, Admiral,” Postumus said as he selected an almond from the bowl of nuts on the table before him. “First off, you must know that Flavius and I are admirers of yours. You were undoubtedly the best choice to replace Bibulus, and are certainly superior to him in your abilities.”
Libo looked guardedly back at Postumus, and then at Flavius who nodded as if to concur with what the senator had just said.
“My gratitude to you both,” Libo replied cordially.
The three men sat across from each other at the long dining table in the officers’ mess. The room had been cleared out for the occasion, the Argonaut’s officers, including Naevius, curtly informed that they would have to take their supper on deck this evening. One of the senator’s burly bodyguards stood at the doorway, ensuring the deliberations remained private, while the other stood just behind Postumus and Flavius, as if he was prepared to protect the senator and his adjutant should Libo choose to leap across the table at them. Lucius was there, too. He stood a few steps behind Libo’s seat, unarmed, but ready to serve as a protector to Libo should the need arise. The tension and the distrust was thick in the room, like they were two rival factions discussing peace after long years of conflict.
Lucius noticed that Flavius was studying him with a disgusted look, as if he was offended by the centurion’s presence. Earlier, Lucius had not failed to observe the man’s odd limp and pained expression when he had taken his seat, as if he suffered from a recent injury to his groin.
Postumus was about to speak when Flavius interjected. “Forgive me, Senator, but before we begin, would it not be wise to have this buffoon of Caesar’s removed? He should not hear what we are about to discuss.”
“Centurion Domitius is my responsibility, Flavius,” Libo spoke up. “He understands the tyrant led him astray, and he is now fully committed to our cause. He stands here at my bidding.”
Flavius did not appear pleased with that answer, but it seemed acceptable to Postumus, who glanced reproachfully at his adjutant before speaking.
“I asked for this meeting, Admiral, because the time has come to share with you the purpose of my mission.”
“I am pleased to hear it, Senator,” Libo replied cordially. “But I believe I already know of the time and the place of your meeting with Antony.”
Postumus shot a scowl at Lucius. “Let me assure you, Admiral, whatever information this brute has given you, it is not the full story. You must hear me out, if you are to fully understand my mission, the importance of which cannot be overstated.”
A sudden commotion in the passage prompted every man in the room to turn his head. Calpurnia and her handmaid stood in the doorway, barred from entrance by the muscled arm of the guard.
“Oh, my dear young lady,” Postumus said with polite irritation. “These proceedings are quite private. I’m so sorry, but whatever business you have with the admiral will have to wait.”
“Lady Calpurnia is here at my request, Senator,” Libo said.
Postumus smiled at him condescendingly. “Admiral, these matters are inappropriate for the ears of a young lady. I must insist that you ask her to leave.”
“An attempt was made on my life, Senator,” Calpurnia spoke, glaring at him accusingly. “My father was murdered.”
“Murdered? Oh, my dear young lady – “
“I have a right to know, Senator!”
“To know what, my dear?” Postumus still spoke in a polite tone, but Lucius could see that his white-knuckled fingers nearly bored holes in the polished armrests of his stool.
Libo interjected. “Your mission, Senator, and the unfortunate attack on Lady Calpurnia must be connected in some way. I asked Lady Calpurnia to come here tonight with the thought that she might have information that could prove useful.”
“I don’t see how,” Postumus said aghast, but then Flavius touched his sleeve.
“I believe it could do little harm, Senator,” the adjutant said in an oddly agreeable tone. “Perhaps the admiral is right.”
Postumus looked at Flavius apprehensively, but then finally acquiesced and motioned for the guard to admit her. Calpurnia bowed her head courteously and then took a seat on Libo’s side of the table. Her handmaid stood a few paces behind her, and shot a brief glance at Lucius, who returned her glower with a playful smile.
“Well, now that we are all here,” Postumus said, the irritation not yet entirely absent from his tone. “Let me start by acquainting you with the facts. Nearly three weeks ago, I received a secret communique from one of our agents in Rome – a man who sits on Antony’s inner circle of advisors.”
“This communication came to you?” Libo said skeptically. “Not to the Senate?”
“I know it sounds unusual, Admiral,” Postumus said dismissively, “but this informant is an associate of mine. He is a very trustworthy source, and is committed to the restoration of the republic, just as we all are.
“I see.”
“Precisely twenty days ago,” Postumus continued, “Antony received a late night visitor at his home in Rome under very strange circumstances. The visit was unannounced and appeared to take Antony off his guard, but he received the visitor, nonetheless, and both he and the visitor retired to his inner chamber. The substance of their discussion is unknown, but upon emerging from the conference, Antony immediately summoned Tribune Atilius Marcellus – who you may remember acted as treasurer and disbursing officer to Caesar through much of his Gallic campaigns – and then sent orders to Brundisium that a flotilla of ships be assembled to attempt an immediate crossing of the Adriatic with four cohorts. Marcellus was dispatched there to join it, with an armed escort, whom I believe you already know was this centurion, here.” Postumus gestured grudgingly at Lucius. “Marcellus sailed with the fleet, bound for Epirus.”
“In an orange-flagged ship?” Libo speculated.
“Precisely. Several dozen vessels put to sea that day, hastily loaded with whatever troops could be put into them, but we surmise these were decoys and of little value. We believe the sole intent of that entire excursion was to ensure the orange-flagged ship got through. It is likely that none of the other captains knew about it.”
“Why the orange flag?” Libo asked curiously. “That’s not very inconspicuous, unless Caesar was so eager to receive Marcellus that he wanted to know when his ship approached.”
“You are assuming Marcellus was on his way to meet with Caesar. Of course, he was not. What would be the point of the secrecy, of not sharing the information with even his closest advisors, or not providing a stronger escort? No, my dear Admiral, Antony was up to something – something that he did not want Caesar to know about.”