He stood up, pulling a rough homespun blanket around his shoulders. The night was not cold, but the notary was almost shivering as he paced a few steps to the wall and back. ‘Take only men you can trust – your Frankish friend and the two others in your section. Tell nobody else of this – nobody! I’ll order four of the agentes in rebus to accompany you, plus a few other armed men in case they’re needed. You must act in the name of the emperor, no matter what the rank or station of these conspirators might be…’
‘You’re quite sure this is a conspiracy, then?’ Castus asked. The notary’s nervous excitement was making him wary. Or was it excitement? He had the strong sense that there was more going on here than he was being told. But that was a familiar sensation.
‘Why else would a military officer hire a common beggar to carry a concealed message to Maximian’s chief eunuch? Don’t worry, I’ve been observing things for a long time. I’ve known of the Villa Calvisiana for a while too – it’s been mentioned in correspondence.’
‘I see,’ Castus said. He could well imagine this cold-blooded man sitting up late into the night, reading other people’s mail. The odium he felt for Julius Nigrinus had not diminished at all over the years, he found. Being forced into such close company with the man filled him with a clenched rage all the harder to endure the more he tried to suppress it.
‘Best go and prepare yourself,’ the notary said. ‘And remember – tell absolutely nobody about this.’
Castus nodded once, then turned to go. At the door he paused.
‘Do you never sleep?’ he asked.
‘Night suits me,’ Nigrinus replied. ‘Daylight hurts my eyes, you know. In ten years’ time I will doubtless be completely blind.’ He gave a couple of long slow blinks. ‘And so,’ he said, ‘I must ensure that all my work is done before then. But it is a hard, slow business, soldier. Harder than you will ever know.’
For once, Castus did not doubt him.
18
Clouds covered the moon, and shadow filled the narrow valley. The twelve men picking their way along the track slowed and then paused, disorientated in the total blackness. Castus could sense the river moving to his left, flowing in its deep channel between boulders and shingle banks. He could smell the wild herbs growing between the trees and thick scrub on the upper slopes of the valley. He recalled the last time he had led a party of men through a darkened wilderness, the summer before after the crossing of the Rhine. But that had been different – this was no barbarian frontier, but the heartland of Roman Gaul, and he could fear no sudden onrush of savage enemies from the night. But still he felt the stir of apprehension up his spine.
Then the clouds shifted and moonlight flooded the valley once more, seeming almost unnaturally bright. Castus looked back and saw the massive arches of the great aqueduct that crossed the valley behind them. It looked ghostly, unreal in the midst of this empty forest.
‘We should see the place soon,’ Flaccianus whispered. ‘Just around the next bend in the river.’
Castus had not realised that the man was so close behind him. If he despised Nigrinus, he hated the greasy agens in rebus even more. Flaccianus’s hired bodyguard was no better, a hulking flat-faced ex-wrestler named Glaucus, who said nothing and followed his master around like a loyal mastiff. Hunching his heavy shoulders, Castus moved off once more down the track. They had left the horses beneath the arch of the aqueduct, in the care of a couple of slaves; the villa was a mile upriver, but they could approach more quietly on foot, and if they got separated in the dark the aqueduct made a good rendezvous. Even so, without the horses their scanty numbers were even more obvious. Not for the first time, Castus had serious misgivings about the planning of the night’s mission.
He had talked little with Flaccianus or the other three agentes in rebus during the journey from Arles. They had left the city in the slumbering quiet of mid-afternoon and ridden hard across the flat open countryside, moving northwards parallel to the river until they reached the great spur of rough wooded country that concealed the valley and the villa within it. They paused there in a grove until after nightfall, then moved up the valley once more. Five slaves had accompanied them, and Glaucus the bodyguard; it hardly seemed enough to tackle and capture a group of highly placed plotters, who probably included military men. But there was nobody else they could trust for the job. Besides, Castus had been the one to find the message hidden in the dagger scabbard, and he felt a sense of responsibility for what had to be done. He remembered the words of his oath. I shall not cease to hunt him down by land and by sea with iron in hand…
The valley curved, wrapping around the narrowing trench of the river, and now the great aqueduct was hidden behind them. Up ahead, Castus could see a low wall through the trees, and an arched gateway. He motioned to the men following him, and together they moved up to the wall and crouched in the long grass. All of them were wearing dark clothes, with no ornaments that might catch the light.
‘Once we get inside the walls,’ Flaccianus said, ‘we should split up. The Protectores should circle individually around the sides of the villa, while the agents and I move in close and try and observe what’s happening…’
‘Why does this small man give us orders?’ Brinno hissed from the darkness.
‘I don’t like the sound of it,’ Castus said. ‘I’ve had about enough of skulking about in the dark for one night already.’
‘Oh, really? And what do you noble Protectores suggest instead?’ Flaccianus said in an acid voice. ‘Rushing in through the front doors, waving your swords about?’
‘He’s right,’ Sallustius said quietly. ‘We need to circle the perimeter, stop anyone getting away.’
Castus exhaled slowly, leaning back against the rough stone wall. ‘Whatever we’re doing, we need to do it fast,’ he said, ‘and work together.’
‘Ah, good!’ Flaccianus said. ‘What a splendid idea – so, as I said, we split up and take individual positions…’
‘We stay together in pairs,’ Castus broke in. ‘Me and Brinno go round to the left of the villa, Sallustius and Victor to the right, along the river. You and your agents creep in close and find out what’s happening inside. As soon as you have them in sight, whistle twice and we’ll get in there. The slaves stay here and hold the gateway.’
He looked around quickly at the gathered men: a few heads nodded in the moonlight; the rest stayed silent; Flaccianus just shrugged. Castus took that for agreement.
‘Let’s go,’ he said.
* * *
Inside the wall of the estate they moved through an orchard, the close-planted trees giving them good cover right up to the bank and ditch that screened the villa buildings. Lying on the bank, Castus peered out between the trunks of a row of poplars and saw the back of the tile-roofed house, the squat columns of a brick rear portico and the low whitewashed half-domes of a bath-house. There were lamps burning inside – Castus could make out the faint glow thrown between the pillars of the portico – but otherwise there were no signs that anyone else was there. The villa was not a lavish place, by the look of it, more a hunting lodge combined with a farm. That was some relief at least. Perhaps nine armed men would be enough to surround it effectively.
From the low scrub and fields on the far side of the villa came the steady, constant chirruping of insects in the darkness. No sign of anyone on watch; or, if they were, they were well concealed.
‘I don’t like this,’ Castus said quietly. ‘Why are there no guards? All too open… like they’re waiting for us.’
‘Afraid of the dark?’ Flaccianus said with a sly grin. ‘We’re out in the middle of nowhere – why would they need guards?’