“That’s the second time you’ve told me that. I’m beginning to think you do not like me.”
“You are a man,” she replied icily, as if no further explanation was necessary.
“Perhaps you should not approach men like that. Had I been armed -”
“I assure you, dog, that I could never be in any danger from you,” she said sharply. “My lady wishes to see you. You will come with me.”
“At this hour?”
“At once!” she snapped, eyeing him with hostility for daring to hesitate to obey her mistress’s command.
Lucius sighed with the weariness he felt and the problem that weighed on his mind, but he gestured for the handmaid to lead the way. He knew she would never take no for an answer, and he knew that he would not truly find any rest in the forest of swinging hammocks that was the crews’ berth, where an assassin might easily hide and slip a knife into his back the moment he closed his eyes.
Lucius was surprised to discover that Calpurnia’s cabin was perhaps the only place on the entire ship that did not reek of either urine, pitch, or foul seawater. It had the aroma of jasmine in the spring. Around the room were scattered the chests, luggage, and appurtenances of a noble woman. Near a small portal, where the cool sea air wafted in brief gusts, an assortment of dresses was hung to dry, having been cleaned using the urine pot in the corner and then scented. Calpurnia’s young, female slaves were proficient at seeing to their lady’s needs under all circumstances, even in the confinements of a ship at sea.
Calpurnia did not rise when he entered. She sat in a chair in the center of the cabin, flanked by both slave girls who hovered over their mistress, combing out strand after strand of the lady’s long hair, preparing it for the next morning when they would braid and dress it in some new and stylish fashion, as they did every day.
“Thank you for coming, Centurion,” she said, in a much more welcoming tone than Marjanita had used. “It is Centurion Domitius, isn’t it?”
“Yes, my lady.”
“I never got the chance to thank you, Centurion, for helping me that night in the hold.”
“It was you that saved me, ma’am, from the lash and execution.”
She smiled cordially, and then glanced at Marjanita and nodded. Without a word passing between them, the handmaid drew the curtain aside at the doorway to verify that no one had followed them, and that no one was eavesdropping. After she was satisfied, she shut the curtain and made a similar inspection of the portal. Finally, she nodded once to Calpurnia.
“I know that you met with Admiral Libo tonight, Centurion,” Calpurnia said. “And I know what he asked you to do.”
“If you know that, my lady,” Lucius answered with a grin, “Then you must be a fairy, for the admiral and I were all alone.”
“He asked you to kill Antony. He asked you to do it during the meeting tomorrow using a missile thrower from a concealed position on the vessel that is to convey the delegation to the shore.”
Lucius marveled. “How could you know that, ma’am? I’m certain we were alone.”
“Your place is to answer questions, dog!” the handmaid snapped.
“No, Marjanita,” Calpurnia waved her off with a single raised hand. “This man is a centurion of Rome, and he should be treated, and addressed, with the courtesies due his valiant rank.”
“Thank you, my lady,” Lucius bowed appreciatively to Calpurnia, and then shot Marjanita an impishly triumphant glance.
“I cannot tell you how I know these things,” Calpurnia continued, “I will just tell you that my late father, in spite of his many faults, had several subordinates that were steadfastly loyal to him. Those men are now loyal to me. But, even without their intelligence, I might have guessed Libo’s course of action. He is woefully predictable – a dreamer, an idealist, who will never survive the schemes of the senators and the politicians.”
“I would not know about that, my lady.”
“No, I suppose not. But you did hear me talk of the Raven this evening. You heard the death and destruction he has enacted, and will continue to enact until Rome is in his hands.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’m not sure I followed all of it.”
“Then let me put it plainly to you. The man called the Raven is the greatest threat Rome has faced since the days of Marius and Sulla. He controls from the shadows, buying off senators, hiring assassins, appointing generals, governors, even town magistrates. I know of at least two major allies of Rome that have his agents lurking within their high council. He is setting the stage meticulously, Centurion, using the distraction of this civil war to make some of his boldest moves. One day, we shall awake to a new Rome, controlled like a puppet, with the Raven pulling the strings.”
“I’ve known a few men with such ambitions, my lady.”
“Oh, Caesar does not compare to the Raven, Centurion. Caesar does not have the resources to pull off such a plan. As much as I dislike the tyrant, for all his corruption and thirst for power, he does have traces of a code of honor. Caesar has often shown clemency to his enemies. The Raven does not. He shows no mercy to those that lay between him and his plans. They are quickly murdered, regardless of their merits or their station. Like my brothers. Like my father.”
Lucius briefly considered telling her how her father, too, was a bloody murderer who had roasted thirty ships full of legionaries, but he refrained.
“I have been searching for the Raven for a long time, Centurion, and now that I have discovered him, I do not intend to let him get away.”
“You have found this man, ma’am?”
“Is it not obvious?” she said matter-of-factly. “Senator Postumus is the Raven. It is as clear to me as the morning sun. He tried to have us murdered because we were the only ones that might have interfered with his planned meeting with Antony. He wanted you eliminated because you were the only survivor of the orange-flagged ship, and thus might have had knowledge that you could impart to Libo, which you did. He would have preferred not to have included Libo in the proceedings tomorrow. But now he has no choice. He wanted me eliminated simply because of my association with my father. My presence on board was unexpected, and he knew that I already eyed him with suspicion over my father’s death. Now, he must somehow meet with Antony and still deal with us before we return to Greece. Be assured, Centurion, neither you nor I will reach Greece alive. He will make sure of that. Libo, himself, is in danger, though he is too stupid to know it.”
Lucius was confused. “But I thought you had arranged the meeting with Antony, my lady.”
“Of course, I did,” she said, as if it were obvious. “To flush the Raven out. And it has worked perfectly.” She continued after she saw the perplexed expression on Lucius’s face. “The message Antony received from the Raven was crafted by me as a ploy to draw the Raven out. I sealed the letter using the ring found with my brothers’ personal effects. That was the message Marjanita was carrying that night when you conveyed her to Antony’s chamber. He thought, and presumably still thinks, it came from the Raven himself. I knew that the true Raven would get wind of it, for his agents are everywhere, even among Antony’s own advisors, I suspect. His curiosity over who had sent the message would bring him to the surface, especially when he realized the sum of money involved. He would have no choice but to intercept Antony’s messenger, who had intended on delivering the time and place for the meeting to a fictitious agent of the Senate in Thessalonica. The true Raven could not gamble on that message ever reaching the Senate. My plan has worked perfectly – aside from the tragedy of my poor father’s murder, which unfortunately I did not foresee. Postumus, no doubt, thought the false message was my father’s doing and had him murdered. Now that he believes the instigator of the plot has been eliminated, he has adopted the plot as his own and plans to see it to its end. How can he not, with half of Caesar’s army and half of the treasury at stake?”