‘Excingus was probably correct yesterday when he said that getting to the gladiator’s going to be impossible. I think it’s probably for the best to concentrate on the others for the time being, and wait to see if Fortuna offers us any way to get to this “Death Bringer”.’
Dubnus shifted in his seat.
‘And if you’re right, then the violent death of the first of them will alert the other three that someone’s coming after them.’
Scaurus nodded.
‘It seems likely, Centurion. After all, it’s not as if there’s any shortage of men with a motive, even after their victims’ households have been torn apart. Distant relatives who weren’t actually quite so distant, friends determined to have revenge for the dead … there must be a fair few men in Rome who’d be more than happy to catch any one of these men off guard.’
The bearded Tungrian stared at the map for a moment.
‘It seems like we’ll have to make sure that the first couple of deaths look like accident or incident then, won’t we …?’
When Marcus had given his wife Excingus’s key earlier that morning, her first reaction had been stunned silence. After a moment, he realised that she was welling up with tears.
‘That’s the key to your father’s house in the city?’
His wife’s reaction was wordless, a tear trickling down her cheek as she fought for composure, and Marcus spoke gently into the silence.
‘And now a calculating animal like Excingus hands it to me with a smile. What to make of that, I wonder?’
Taking a deep breath Felicia managed to speak, her voice trembling with emotion.
‘I doubt it would stand much comparison with what you were used to when your father was still alive, but it’s a quiet enough little place, and I was so fond of it before we left Rome. I grew up in that house, and it’s my last link to my mother and father. When I married that bastard Bassus, he took the key off me and sent it to his brother. He said that we would live in it when he was posted back to Rome, but that we might as well get some use out of the place in the meantime. I’d all but forgotten it, with everything that’s happened since, until you put this key in my hand. But how did that awful man come by it, I wonder?’
She fell silent again, lost for words at having the means of access to a house she had long since abandoned to the wreckage of her previous marriage. Marcus shook his head.
‘He wouldn’t tell me, but I doubt there was very much subtlety to his taking possession of the place. Where is the house?’
‘It’s up on the Aventine Hill.’
He wiped her tears away and took her hands in his.
‘I’ll ask Cotta if a few of his brighter men might escort you into the city later, and you can go and have a look around the place and decide what you want to do about it. Half a dozen scar-faced veterans ought to be enough to deter the most determined of thieves. Why not take Annia with you, and make a morning of it? After all, there are plenty of shops on the way, and you were saying that you needed to find some better clothing than the stuff you’ve been wearing for the last few months. Why not treat her, and buy the children something new to wear as well?’
Rummaging in his purse, he’d spilled a handful of coins onto the bed between them, eliciting a tearful smile from his wife.
‘Well now, Centurion, what a nice idea! It’ll make a change from all of our money going to fund exotic swords and the latest fashion in helmets …’
When Marcus had requested Cotta to lend him a few of his men to escort Felicia and Annia into the city, and explained the real purpose of the expedition, the veteran’s response had been swift and unequivocal.
‘That’s a job for me. If your women and children are going to set foot outside of this barrack then I’ll be the man escorting them, me and a few of my choicest lads, the best combination of bright and nasty, if you know what I mean. If Senator Albinus wanted you dead to teach the tribune here a lesson, then I can’t see him hesitating to kill or abduct your wife if he sees the opportunity. And from what you’ve told me about this Excingus character, he won’t hesitate to inform the senator about your circumstances if he gets to hear about our little falling out with Albinus. So I think I’ll take a careful look around the place before there’s any talk of moving in, shall I?’
The Tungrian officers watched as the small party headed for the barracks’ gate before turning back to their training duties. Scaurus and Julius had decided to maintain the two cohorts’ fitness and weapons skills regimes while the Tungrians were in barracks awaiting their next orders, reasoning that whether they were sent back to Britannia or elsewhere in the empire, they were likely to be in the thick of the action soon enough. The hulking first spear nodded happily at the sight of his men working hard at their weapons skills.
‘Not bad, if I say so myself. Not bad at all.’
The transit barracks’ parade ground had been converted into a training area, with dozens of pairs of men sparring with wooden swords while others looked on and offered derisory advice before taking their own turn. A piece of open ground alongside the barracks had been commandeered, with twenty wooden posts having been erected at one end. In front of each post a tent party of seven or eight men took turns to hurl their spears at the man-sized wooden target from twenty paces; those men who missed being detailed off to run the field’s perimeter with the offending weapon held over their heads before rejoining their comrades.
‘Infantrymen sweating their bollocks off in the sunshine. What an agreeable sight!’
The three centurions turned to see who was addressing them to find themselves under the scrutiny of an amused-looking man in an anonymous tunic, his boots scuffed and battered from continual heavy use and only cursory attention. Every inch as tall as Dubnus, if nowhere near as massive in build, his heavy beard was flecked with grey, and his brown eyes were set in a face whose skin resembled aged leather.
‘And you are?’
The newcomer nodded to Julius, ignoring the harsh tone of his question with a good-natured smile.
‘Avidus, Centurion, Third Augusta. You?’
The first spear stared at the other man for a moment with his eyes narrowed, and for a moment Marcus spoke quickly, convinced that Julius was on the verge of setting about the stranger with his vine stick.
‘You’re not an infantry officer, are you Avidus?’
The weathered face turned to look at him with its amused expression untroubled by Julius’s glare.
‘Infantry? Fuck no! I, sonny, am one of that glorious band of men who get the opportunity to march at the head of the legion. I’m a pioneer, gentlemen, or to be more precise, a surveyor in command of a detachment of pioneers.’
Dubnus looked at him for a moment with an expression of growing glee before finding his voice.
‘You’re a road mender!’
Avidus rolled his eyes, shaking his head in disgust.
‘And here was me thinking that I might receive a more sympathetic reception from a member of the auxiliary forces, but clearly one bone-stupid grunt is much like every other, whatever armour they’re wearing.’
Julius found his voice, putting out his hand.
‘Julius, First Spear, First Tungrian Cohort. I was going to beast you for being out of uniform but since you’ve clearly got a pair on you, I won’t waste my breath. What brings you to a transit barracks on the road from Rome to Ostia?’
The surveyor shrugged.
‘You tell me. Me and my lads have been here for the best part of a month.’
‘You mean you’ve been sent here and then left to rot?’
‘You’ve got it. Nobody seems to know where we’re supposed to be going. We were detached and shipped over here in response to a request for skilled manpower from a legion somewhere else in the empire, but by the time we got here the original request had been mislaid.’ He shook his head in disgust. ‘Knowing my luck, we’ll end up getting sent somewhere really fucking cold where the only work going is digging out blocked latrines.’