The Eagles Prophecy

For a moment Cato stared back at Pollo, wondering how much the man really knew about the pirates' source of information. Pollo would hardly dare to drop open hints to a man with hundreds of marines at his command. Except Cato was alone and the marines might as well be in another province at that instant. He suddenly felt vulnerable, even here, amid scores of guests, and he looked round quickly and saw that a handful of Pollo's companions were watching them closely.

Pollo smiled at the centurion's discomfort. 'As I said, is there anything I can do for you, before you leave my house?'

'Who said I was leaving?'

'Trust me. You will be, very shortly.'

'All right. Tell me one thing. I'm looking for someone. A friend. I was told he was staying here, as your guest.'

'Well,' Rufius Pollo stretched out his arms, 'as you can see, I have more guests than you can wave a stick at, although some of these miscreants do actually have homes to go to. What is your friend's name?'

'Anobarbus.'

Pollo's eyes betrayed a flicker of surprise at the name, then he composed his features and tipped his head slightly to one side. He stared intently at the centurion for a moment and then lowered his voice as he leaned forward to speak to Cato. 'A friend, you say? If I was to ask you what the blind man seeks, what would you reply?'

Cato frowned. He hadn't the slightest idea about the merchant's family, and was surprised at the strangeness of the question. He shook his head.

'I've no idea. Blind man? What do you mean?'

'It's nothing.' Pollo's gaze flickered to one side, and he gestured towards the hall that led to the entrance.'Anobarbus was here. He left early in the evening. Long before you arrived.'

'Where did he go?'

'I don't know.'

'I see.' Cato paused before he continued.'Might I ask you to explain how he came to be a guest in your house?'

'Simple enough. We have friends in common back in Rome. They told him to look me up when he arrived in Ravenna.'

'What friends?'

'Just friends.' Pollo smiled. 'Tell me, Centurion, do you suspect Anobarbus of some crime?'

'Did I say that?'

'No. But I find it strange that you are conducting enquiries at this time of night. Why do you want to find Anobarbus? Do you suspect him of some crime? Some treachery?'

Cato paused before replying. 'I only want to eliminate him from my list of suspects.'

Pollo flinched. 'You have a list?'

'I can't disclose official information.'

'I see…' Pollo leaned back, keeping his eyes fixed on Cato. He affected a yawn. 'Now, I'm afraid you really must go. You've quite exhausted my hospitality. My men will show you out.'

'No need.' Cato stood and backed off a few paces. 'I know the way. I bid you good night, Rufius Pollo. Until we meet again.'

'We won't.' Pollo shook his head, and waved towards a pair of burly-looking slaves lurking at the back of the dining room, and discreetly pointed at the centurion. Cato turned away and walked quickly towards the corridor. He glanced back and saw that the slaves were doing their best to keep up as they pushed through the guests crowding the dining room. As soon as he was clear of them Cato ran down the corridor, ignoring the surprised expressions of the guests who turned towards the sound of running feet on the tessellated floor.

'Laecus!' he called out. 'Get up! We're leaving.'

Ahead of him the vague mass of the gangmaster emerged from the shadows, a small jug of wine in one hand.

'What's up, sir?'

'Get the door open!'

Cato threw himself forward and by the time Laecus had caught the sense of urgency the centurion thudded into the door beside him, fingers groping for the thick iron bolt that secured it. Behind them sandled feet padded down the corridor. With a grating rasp they worked the bolt and heaved the door inwards.

'Come on!' Cato shouted, shoving Laecus into the street. 'Run!'

They scrambled down the steep steps on to the broad tufa stone paving and started back towards the heart of Ravenna. They were only a short distance down the street when Pollo's men burst out of the house, dagger blades glinting in the wan glow of the light from within.

One of them pointed. 'There!'

'What the hell's happening?' Laecus grunted as he ran beside Cato. The centurion said nothing but gritted his teeth and darted towards the opening of a narrow alley, quickly praying that it wouldn't turn out to be a dead end. The alley was as black as a Parthian's heart, and rubbish had been left in long neglected piles, threatening to trip them up as Cato and Laecus stumbled headlong, desperately trying to gain some ground on their pursuers. They took a turning to the right and ran on, then took another turn, to the left this time, into an even tighter alley that reeked of excrement and rotting vegetation. A short way down the alley Cato could just make out the opening to a small yard and pulled the gangmaster in with him, crouching down behind a small cart.

As they squatted down, lungs straining for breath and ears filled with the pounding of blood, Cato drew his sword and stared through the opening to the yard and into the blackness of the alley beyond. All was still and there was no sign of Pollo's men.

Laecus tugged Cato's tunic. 'Would you mind telling me what the fuck is going on here?'

'Wish I knew,' Cato whispered. 'Keep quiet!'

They waited, but the streets were silent. Once a voice called out, some distance off, and there came a muffled reply, then nothing. Cato waited until he had recovered his breath and his heart beat steadily once again. Even though his body was still, his mind raced as he struggled to deal with the evening's events. His earlier suspicions about Anobarbus seemed to have more weight to them now. But what was the merchant's relationship with Rufius Pollo? The latter clearly feared that Cato was on to him somehow, and wanted the centurion silenced. Were they both selling information to the pirates? Cato frowned. It didn't seem to make much sense. But if Pollo was not dealing with the pirates, and nor was his friend Anobarbus, then who were they working for?

06 The Eagles Prophecy

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Cato left Laecus a short distance from the inn, handing him a handful of bronze coins as they parted.

'Get yourself some more wine and go home,' Cato smiled. 'You deserve it.'

'Deserve it? I bloody need it after all that sneaking around. Besides, I might just drink enough to make me forget this stench.' He pulled out a bit of his tunic and gave it a hesitant sniff. 'There's no way the wife's going to let me back in the house in this state.'

Cato patted him on the back and set off towards the naval base, keeping to the side of the streets and watching for any sign that he was being followed. As he warily made his way through Ravenna, Cato tried to concentrate on the crosscurrents of conspiracy that seemed to have caught him up. His suspicions about Anobarbus' involvement with the pirates clearly had some basis, and it made some sense. Taking payment for feeding information to the pirates was bound to be a lucrative sideline for any merchant. But how was Anobarbus linked to Rufius Pollo? He was not simply a house-guest. That was certain. Why else send men after Cato? Had the intention been to warn him off, or to take care of him permanently? It was easy enough for Cato to visualise: a swift stabbing in a filthy side street to curtail his investigations. That implied that Pollo was colluding with Anobarbus. But it made no sense. What could Pollo possibly gain from having the pirates ravage the commerce that fed Ravenna and was the source of Pollo's wealth? Furthermore, Pollo was clearly determined to quit the port in the face of possible pirate raids. He had far more to lose from helping Telemachus than to gain. So if Anobarbus and Pollo were not working for Telemachus then who were they working for? The Liberators?

Cato paused at a street corner to rub his eyes. He had only been able to snatch a few hours' sleep over the last few days and his head ached terribly. Worse still, his mind felt clouded by fatigue and it was difficult to keep focusing on the confused situation. When he opened his eyes again and stared towards the sea, he noticed the first faint band of dawn fringing the clutter of roof tiles on the surrounding buildings. The sky was clear overhead, with the prospect of good sailing weather. The small flotilla of biremes at the naval base would be preparing to set sail within the hour and Cato pushed himself away from the wall and hurried on.