The Eagle In the Sand

'Granted. But there is a new sect amongst the Judaeans that has come to my attention. I'm having my agents investigate them even now. Seems they are followers of a man who claimed to be some kind of divinity. Or at least that's what my agents say his followers are claiming now. I'm told that in reality he was the son of some rural craftsman. Jehoshua was the man's name.'

'Was? What happened to him?'

'He was accused of inciting civil disorder by the high priests in Jerusalem. They insisted that he be put to death, but lacked the guts to do it themselves, so the procurator at the time had this Jehoshua executed. Trouble was that, like so many of these prophets, he was quite charismatic. So much so that his coterie have managed to attract a large following in the years since his death. Unlike most other Judaean sects, this one promises them some kind of glorious afterlife when they die and go into the shades.' Narcissus smiled. 'You can see the appeal.'

'Perhaps,' Cato muttered. 'But it sounds like the usual religious quackery to me.'

'I agree with you, young man. But that's not stopping these people from finding new adherents.'

'Why not just stamp them out? Proscribe their leaders?'

'All in good time. If the need arises.'

Cato laughed. 'Are you saying these people are threatening to overthrow Rome?'

'No. At least not yet. But we're keeping an eye on them. If I judge them to be the threat identified by the scrolls then they will be… removed.'

Cato reflected that it was typical of the man to talk in such euphemisms. For an instant he felt contempt, then with a sudden flash of insight he wondered if the Imperial Secretary could only carry out his work because of a euphemistic frame of mind. After all, the decisions that Narcissus made frequently resulted in deaths. Necessary deaths perhaps, but deaths all the same. Opponents of the Emperor consigned to oblivion at the stroke of a pen. How that must weigh on a man's conscience. Far better for Narcissus to see them as a problem removed, rather than a string of corpses littering his wake. Of course, Cato thought, that presupposed the man had a conscience to be perturbed by the decisions of life and death that he made every day. What if he didn't? What if the euphemisms were merely a matter of rhetorical style? Cato shuddered. In that case Narcissus was completely without ethics. The ideal of Rome was no more than a hollow edifice whose real centre was the simple, unadorned greed and lust for power of the elite few. Cato tried to shake off such thoughts as he forced his mind to focus on the matter at hand.

'I didn't think you placed much faith in such prophecies?'

'Normally, I don't,' Narcissus admitted. 'But it so happens that the same day I read of this supposed threat to Rome, a rather disturbing intelligence dossier, compiled from reports from my agents in the eastern provices, happened to cross my desk. It seems that there is a confluence of dangers in the region. For one thing, these followers of Jehoshua are divided. One tendency, the version that even has its adherents in Rome, preaches some kind of unworldly pacifism. That we can live with. After all, what possible danger could come from such a philosophy? It is the second tendency that concerns me. The movement is led by Bannus of Canaan. He preaches resistance to Rome, by any and all means available to the people of Judaea. If that kind of philosophy overspilled the borders of the province then we really would be in trouble.'

'Indeed.' Cato nodded. 'But you implied there were more threats. What else is there?'

'Our old adversary, Parthia, on the one hand. Parthia is making a play for Palmyra; territory that directly encroaches on our frontier. Unhappily, this, the worsening situation in Judaea, and the rise of this man Bannus are further complicated by the fact that the Governor of Syria has been linked to the Liberators. Put it all together and even a cynical rationalist like me would consider it more than a little foolhardy to ignore the words of the prophecy.'

'What are you saying exactly?' Cato frowned. 'The prophecy could refer to any of these threats, assuming it has any validity at all.'

Narcissus leaned back in his chair and sighed. For a moment he said nothing, and Cato was conscious for the first time of the rattling of rain against the window. The wind must have changed.A distant flash of sheet lightning momentarily silhouetted the Imperial Secretary and after a pause the sound of thunder grumbled across the city.

Narcissus stirred. 'That's my problem, Cato. The wording is vague enough to embrace all of those threats. I need someone to investigate the matter further, assess the dangers, and if possible resolve them.'

'Resolve?' Cato smiled. 'Now that's a vague term if ever I heard one. Covers a multitude of possibilities.'

'Of course it does.' Narcissus smiled back. 'And it's up to you to discern the best means of resolving any issue you judge to constitute a threat to the Emperor.'

'Me?'

'You and Macro, of course. You can pick him up in Ravenna when you board a ship bound for the east.'

'Now, wait a moment-'

'Unfortunately, we can't wait. There's no time to waste.You must leave Rome immediately.'

Cato stared back at Narcissus with a hostile expression.'That last mission you sent us on nearly got us killed.'

'You're a soldier. Getting yourself killed is an occupational hazard.'

Cato stared at the Imperial Secretary for a moment, consumed with rage and a sense of injustice. He forced himself to answer as calmly as he could. 'Macro and I don't deserve this. Haven't we done enough for you already?'

'No man can do enough in the service of Rome.'

'Find someone else. Someone better suited to this kind of work. Let Macro and me get back to soldiering. It's what we do best.'

'You're both fine soldiers,' Narcissus agreed smoothly. 'As good as they come.And being soldiers is a useful cover for your real mission.You and Macro will be assigned to a frontier unit in the province. Since you belong to the select few who know about the prophecies you are the most obvious choice for the job.' He shrugged. 'In a way, you are victims of your own success, as the saying goes. Come now, Cato. It's not as if I'm asking you to risk your lives. I just want you to assess the situation.'

'And resolve it.'

'Yes, and resolve it.'

'By what means?'

'You will be acting with the full authority of the Emperor. I have prepared a document to that effect. It's waiting in another office, together with Centurion Macro's letter of appointment, the report from Caesarea and all the other material I felt it was relevant for you to see. I'd like you to read through it tonight.'

'All of it?'

'Yes, I think that would be wise, since you will be leaving Rome at dawn tomorrow.'

Centurion Florianus shook his head as Cato finished relating the details of the meeting. 'That's tough. The Imperial Secretary seems determined to make you boys earn every sestertian of your pay.'

Macro rolled his eyes. 'You can't imagine.'

'Of course,' Cato said quietly, 'you are never to speak to anyone else about the scrolls. Narcissus instructed me to inform you alone. Only a handful of people are aware of their existence, and we are the only three in all of the eastern provinces in the know. That's how Narcissus wants it to stay. Is that understood?'

Florianus nodded.

'Very well,' Cato continued. 'I won't insult you by asking you to swear to secrecy. Knowing the Imperial Secretary as we all do, it's enough to imagine what he might do to us if we ever revealed the secret.'

'Don't worry,' Florianus replied casually. 'I know what becomes of those who fall foul of Narcissus. Before I came here, I was one of his interrogators.'

'Ah…' Macro made to speak, thought better of it, closed his mouth and impulsively thrust his cup towards Florianus. 'I think I need some more of your wine.'

As Macro took a hefty gulp from his replenished cup Florianus continued, 'So what is your plan?