‘Too right,’ Macro responded. ‘And I thought working for that slimy rat Narcissus was dangerous. The gods will have their fun with us.’
‘I wonder who is laughing. Macro, I’m serious. We’re in grave danger as long as Quertus remains here in the fort and challenges my authority. If we’re going to deal with him, we must do it one step at a time. Right now, we bide our time until the reinforcements turn up. Once they’re here, we can get things back to where they should be. Quertus will have little choice but to accept it.’
‘And what? We let bygones be bygones? Sir, he tried to kill you.’
‘What proof is there of that? Without proof what can I do?’
Macro opened his mouth to protest, then frowned, and shook his head. ‘Bollocks. Due legal process again, I take it.’
Cato nodded. ‘As things stand I cannot bring charges against Quertus. Not for the attempt on my life, nor for the murder of the previous prefect. Besides, there’s more to this than dealing with Quertus. You remember I mentioned that being here might have something to do with Pallas? That he might have wanted to send us someplace where there was a good chance we might be killed?’
Macro waved his spoon around. ‘You really think such a place is hard to find in this corner of the empire?’
‘We’re not in the empire. We’re well over the frontier of the province. Far enough from any help if we get into trouble. And we are in trouble. If we try and take a short cut in dealing with Quertus, you can be sure that Pallas’s man here in Britannia will have us charged with the crime. You don’t just get away with murdering a senior centurion, or bringing disciplinary charges against him without adequate evidence. Anything like that is likely to rebound on us. Especially if someone is looking for any excuse to drop us in the shit. Like I said, we have to be extremely careful. If it’s to be done, Quertus must be disposed of in a way that can be justified. You understand, Macro?’
The centurion sighed heavily. ‘This ain’t on, Cato. I thought we’d left all this sort of thing behind us. I thought we were going back to the legions to do some proper soldiering and leaving all the skulduggery to those with a taste for it.’ He shook his head, then took another, joyless, spoon of stew before muttering, ‘It ain’t on, I’m telling you.’
Cato could not help a wry smile. ‘Come now, did you ever think it would really be so simple?’
Decimus opened the door to the officers’ mess and peered round before he crossed the threshold. There was no one there due to the late hour and a fire was burning low in the hearth, providing a warm glow that lit up the modest room. He breathed a sigh of relief that he would not have to be in the same room as any of the officers of the Thracian cohort. He quickly shut the door behind him and crossed to the doorway leading through to the storeroom where the officers’ food was stored. General items were shelved on one side, with named shelves for each officer’s private stores opposite. Not that there was much left on any of the shelves, Decimus tutted to himself. There had been little of worth taken from the village, just a few roundels of goat’s cheese, some jugs of their sweet ale and the hard flat loaves of bread that tasted as unappetising as they looked. Decimus picked up two from the common stores and marked the wax slate hanging from a thong by the door. He heard the door open and close a moment later and swallowed anxiously as he emerged from the storeroom and saw the looming bulk of Centurion Quertus standing in front of the door. The glow from the fire cast a gently wavering shadow behind him and lit his dark features with a ruddy glow so that he looked even larger than he did in daylight. His eyes fixed on the prefect’s servant but he said nothing.
Decimus approached hesitantly and nodded towards the door. ‘If you’ll excuse me, sir.’
‘Not yet.’ Quertus spoke in a rumbling undertone. ‘I’m hungry. Fetch me some cheese and bread. And a jug of beer.’
‘Sir, I was just taking these to headquarters.’
‘Later.’
‘The prefect and Centurion Macro are expecting me to return as soon as I can, sir.’
‘Once I’ve finished with you, you can go. Now, build the fire up and then get me my food.’
Decimus hesitated a moment. The Thracian scowled and the servant hurriedly turned about and set the loaves down on a table. He went over to the fire and took some logs from the pile in the corner and stacked them over the embers in tiers before picking up the fan and carefully stirring up some flames until they consumed the lowest logs. All the while he felt the presence of the Thracian officer who had sat down on the nearest bench and watched him work in silence.
‘That’ll do,’ said Quertus. ‘Now the food.’
Decimus scrambled up and made for the foodstore where he heaped a wooden platter with the requested items and returned to serve them to the centurion. ‘There you are, sir. Now if there’s nothing more. .’
‘There is something else.’ Quertus tore off a corner of his bread and chewed steadily until his mouth was empty enough to speak. ‘Your name is Decimus, isn’t it?’
Decimus nodded, not happy that the Thracian officer knew even that much about him.
‘Cat got your tongue?’
‘N-no, sir.’
‘That’s better. Well then, Decimus, perhaps you can help me.’
‘Of course, sir.’
‘Are you happy serving the prefect?’
Decimus chewed his lip. ‘Happy, sir? I hadn’t given it any thought.’
‘Oh, I’m sure that you have. I would find it hard to believe that you would be happy in a place as far flung and wild as Bruccium. You have the look of a former soldier about you. The limp suggests you were discharged unfit. Am I right?’
Decimus nodded, then as the Thracian officer’s brow knitted he quickly spoke up. ‘Yes, sir. I served in the Second Legion. Before I met the prefect I was in Londinium working the wharves.’
‘And you gave up the comforts of Londinium to come here?’
‘The prefect offered to pay me well to serve him, sir. It seemed like a good idea at the time.’
‘But not so good now, I’ll bet.’ Quertus smiled thinly. ‘I imagine that you are thinking that no amount of silver is worth being in a place like this.’
Decimus decided that it might be best to make light of the situation and get away from the Thracian officer as soon as possible. ‘I’m sure I could imagine enough silver to make anything worth while, sir.’
Quertus responded quietly, ‘I’m sure you could.’
Decimus coughed. ‘If that’s all, sir, I’d better be off. Can’t afford to keep the prefect and Centurion Macro waiting.’
‘Before you go, Decimus, there’s something I’d like you to think about.’ Quertus leaned forward and fixed his dark eyes on the veteran. Decimus felt his blood go cold.
‘You like silver, so you’re a man after my own heart. What if I was to offer you twice what the prefect is paying you to work for me instead?’
‘Sir?’
‘Come now, Decimus. You don’t think that bread and beer are the only things that the Blood Crows take from the villages we raid. There are plenty of silver lodes in these mountains, that is one of the reasons why the Emperor is so keen to get his hands on the land of the Silures. We’ve collected quite a small hoard of silver. I’ve promised fair shares for all the officers and men in the know. Why shouldn’t you be able to dip your beak in as well? As long as you serve my needs. I see you are tempted. . Why don’t I make it easier for you? What if I paid you three times what the prefect has promised you?’
‘A thousand sestertii, that’s what Cato said.’
‘So little for a good man like you? The prefect is a skinflint. What do you say to three thousand sestertii?’
Decimus’s eyes widened at the prospect of such a fortune and Quertus pressed on. ‘Of course, you’d get to keep what he has promised to pay you as well. Should set you up nicely for the rest of your life. And the best of it is that all you have to do is keep on serving the prefect. As far as I am concerned, what you have to do for me is to keep your ears and eyes open and report back to me anything he says that relates to me or my cohort. That’s all there is to it. What do you say, Decimus?’