The Guards, who reckoned they could go anywhere, were outraged. An altercation ensued. Negotiation achieved nothing, so by virtue of their weaponry, the Guards carried the motion and clanked straight indoors. They had slowed down though. Some even removed their helmets deferentially as they reached the inner precincts.
We were not wearing helmets. But like the Guards, once we crushed into the dimly lit interior, we walked more quietly. We passed through a forest of columns, to murky, incense-scented spaces. Statues of Amazons, with disconcerting friendly expressions, gazed at us from all sides. In the centre of the shrine was a lofty statue, modelled on the one at Ephesus: Diana, as a many-breasted mother-goddess, a serene smile on her gilded lips, holding out her hands, palms up, as if in welcome to fugitives.
Our hands were on our sword hilts, but we kept them sheathed. We struggled to overtake the Guards, but the overbearing bastards held us back. Some wheeled around, set themselves shoulder to shoulder, and penned us in a corner. It would be a bad idea to try and hack our wayout.
Justinus and Lentullus had disappeared. Nobody else seemed to be there. A gaggle of priests and priestesses pushed in behind us. They hissed when the Guards started systematically searching. For a time those oafs tried not to cause disruption in the precinct, but their standard approach was to fling property about carelessly. Pretty soon a candelabrum went over. There was a scuffie while quacking priests doused the flames with a curtain, 'helped' by emboldened Guards plucking more draperies from their hanging-rods and tossing them aside. Votive statuettes were kicked around under needlessly clumsy boots. As priestesses shrieked and swooped protectively on temple furniture and treasure, the jubilant Guards found Ganna.
A group of Praetorians bunched tightly around her, to prevent escape. They were not harming her. But Ganna was young, female, foreign-and had no experience of defusing trouble. She screamed, and of course she kept on screaming. It was too much for Justinus, who burst trom his hiding-place. Lentullus was at his heels again.
Things grew ugly. Guards finally drew their swords, so the temple staff went crazy. Justinus and Lentullus, both shouting, raced through the shrine towards Ganna, to be faced by a row of glitteringly sharp swords, wielded by brutal men who had twenty years' experience in using them. The light was bad; the space was cramped; in moments it turned into a nightmare. Justinus, though unarmed, was shouting at the Guards to free the young girl. They advanced on him, intentions clear; Lentullus, who did have a sword, flung himself between them. Clemens and I tried to exert a sensible influence, but we were all still penned in our corner by other Guards, who now decided to disarm us. As we passed our weapons from hand to hand among ourselves, to avoid confiscation, I watched Ganna being dragged outside. Breaking free, I rushed out on to the steps, only to see her carried down into the piazza, where she was bundled through the chanting crowds and shoved into the litter that had brought Anacrites. He shot me a repulsive look of triumph.
Somebody intervened: Helena Justina dropped her armful of cloaks and again accosted the Spy. The crowd hushed to hear her. She understood the situation. I knew she would be disgusted at Ganna's treatment, but she was clear and polite, with a ringing tone for all to hear: 'Anacrites, I am here to chaperon Ganna-with Titus Caesar's approval. Please be careful. You need all your diplomacy. Ganna is too young to have taken part in the rebellion-and she is not under threat of execution. This innocent girl came to Rome merely as a companion of Veleda-a chaperon herself. The intention now is to treat her well and make her a friend of Rome. Then we can send her back where she came from, to spread word among the barbarians that we are civilised people who should be seen as allies.'
'I know what I'm doing!' the Spy scoffed gracelessly.
'Of course. But wherever you are sending her, I shall go myself.'
Without waiting for the Spy's answer, Helena climbed into the litter with Ganna. The slaves did not wait for his reaction either. They picked up the shafts and moved off, escorted by a straggle of Praetorians. The cheering crowds divided to allow the party to leave the scene, heading down the Aventine. Anacrites had probably given orders for Ganna to be taken to some terrifying interrogation cell. With Helena on hand as an intermediary, it could be a very different occasion to the torture he had planned. For me, Helena's abrupt departure was both good and bad-but I had worse matters to deal with.
Infuriated, Anacrites came running up the steps, barging through the rest of the Guards and demanding to see Justinus. But when we all struggled back into the temple, pushing against one another vindictively and knocking priests aside, there was no longer any sign of him. In the dark interior-darker still, now lamps had been blown out in the skirmish-Clemens and most of our men were huddled around a prone figure. Lentullus lay on the ground, right in froont of the statue of Diana. His left leg looked as if it was almost severed, but Clemens had it raised: Minnius and Gaudus were supporting the leg, while Paullus knelt behind Lentullus, holding his head. As Clemens struggled to apply a tourniquet, blood was soaking the tunic he had stripped off and used for this purpose. Blood was pooling all across the stone floor too. The soldiers were chivvying, calling Lentullus by name. No sound or movement came fi-om him.
The temple attendants were useless, concerned only about the desecration in their shrine. A bunch of the Guards were pretending to be solicitous. I saw what they were up to. One of their number had done this, and they were starting to sense difficulties ahead. Most had fallen silent. Old centurions know what to do when things go wrong. They would be planning what let-out to claim, if there was an enquiry. Some approached, pretending to be helpful, offering to lift the lifeless young soldier and carry him outside.
On the verge of losing a man in his charge, Clemens went crazy. 'Leave him! Leave him to stabilise, you fools! Somebody get these murderous bastards out of the bloody way-'
I strode up. I let the Guards know from my voice how furious I was at having to sound reasonable. 'Just leave us to it now, lads. Better get lost. We were all on the same side, today. This was supposed to be a joint exercise-or hadn't anyone explained that?' Already displaying embarrassment, the Guards quickly decided to evacuate. Anacrites must have melted away from the scene ahead of them. . Kneeling by Lentullus, Clemens was still desperately trying to stanch the blood. He looked back over one shoulder, recognised me as I came to assess the problem, and yelled: 'Don't just stand there, Falco! Get some help-get a doctor!'
XLII
This mission was stuffed with doctors. I knew only one who might be close at hand. It was quickest to visit him. As soon as we could safely shoulder Lentullus, we rushed him to the vigiles. Their outstation was barely two streets away. Luckily, I had underestimated the Fourth Cohort's ability to recover from their Saturnalia drinks: a skeleton staff was on duty that night, and to my relief, one of them was Scythax, their morose doctor. He looked put out at the interruption, but he reacted quickly.
We lugged Lentullus in, and Scythax cleared a working space. A body was already on the table, but that was a dead man so he lost his place in the queue. The lads dumped the corpse outside in the exercise yard. At first we clustered round, but pretty soon Scythax shooed us out. He just kept Clemens to pass him equipment and take orders.