‘And?’
‘And, First Spear, I happen to have come by some information that I think will provide you with a rather less risky alternative. Would you like to hear it?’
Having thanked Quintus for his part in the charade that had enabled the trackers to take a good look at their target, Qadir dismissed him back to his duties and looked about the soldiers standing in ordered lines in front of him.
‘Fall out and sit down.’
He waited until they were all sitting on the ground in front of him, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and excitement at the unexpected change in their routine.
‘Tribune Scaurus has a task in mind for you men, or for some of you at least. If you take it on, and if you’re successful in mastering the necessary skills, then you’ll all be granted immune status and awarded a rise in pay to one and a half times basic. But …’ He waited until the interest generated by the last statement had died away before speaking again. ‘I have to warn you, not all of you will be capable of the task the tribune has in mind. And if you don’t have the skills, I will return you to your centuries without hesitation. So I suggest that you pay very close attention to the lessons that I am about to teach you, for it will be by their application that you will either succeed or fail. Follow me.’
He led the group up the transit barracks’ narrow main street until they reached the stone wall at the far end.
‘Divide into two groups.’ Once the brief period of confusion caused by his command had been resolved, he ordered one group to stand behind him. ‘The rest of you, I want you all to walk away towards the headquarters. You two, stop at the end of the first barrack. You three, at the end of the next block, and you four stop after three blocks. Is that clear?’
The soldiers shuffled their feet and looked at each other, trying to work out what was so difficult about this that they risked being sent back to unremitting sword drills and the lost chance to boast about their increased pay and status to their tent mates. Qadir stared at them in silence for a moment.
‘If you spend half the day pondering the meaning of my instructions then you will all fail this test, and so you will all go back to face the inevitable rough humour that will result from your failure. So, I will ask one more time, and any man that does not answer me quickly and clearly will be our first dropout. Is that clear?’
The men standing before him chorused their understanding, and the Hamian nodded slowly.
‘Very good. Now, when I wave my arm, the pair must hide behind the barrack beside which they are stopped, when I wave it again the trio must hide, leaving only the group of four in view. When I call out to you then you must all return here. Clear?’
Again the agreement was swift and loud, his gently posed threat clearly having sunk into the soldiers’ minds.
‘Then do it. The rest of you, turn and face the wall while they do as I have bidden.’
While the second group walked back down the street, Qadir spoke to the men gathered before him, his quiet, assured tones forcing them to listen with the utmost care.
‘The first lesson that we will learn is that in this game which we will be playing, distance is our friend. Every fifty paces that a man moves away from you makes him seem that much smaller and insignificant, and, unless he wears bright clothing, every step makes him that much less visible, as you will see in a moment.’
With the other men in their various places, he spoke again.
‘When I give the word you may turn, just for a moment, and look over your shoulder, in the manner of a man who wishes to see if there is anyone behind him. Just for an instant, mind you, the quickest glance possible and as casually as you can manage. Now!’
The soldiers looked around, then flicked their gazes back to Qadir.
‘You all saw the men one block away without any problem?’
They nodded, looks of puzzlement on all but a couple of faces. Qadir waved his arm, waiting until the closest men had taken cover.
‘Now!’
The soldiers turned and looked again, a few more of them turning back with looks of understanding, and again the centurion waved his arm, waiting until the three soldiers had moved into hiding, leaving only the group of four visible.
‘Now!’
This time when the men turned back from peering over their shoulders they were nodding and exchanging knowing glances as men will when the obvious dawns upon them.
‘You see? The closest men stood out very clearly, the next closest were obvious enough, but the third group?
Saratos was the first to speak, his face still thoughtful.
‘They hard to see with quick look. If they tunics not red be even harder.’
The Hamian nodded approvingly.
‘Exactly. Well done soldier. Now we’ll repeat the lesson, and this time you men will be the ones standing in the street. Off you go, and send the others back here to me.’
‘So there you have it. If you still want to mete out whatever it is that you consider to be justice to one of the Knives, you have the perfect opportunity.’
Excingus sat back in his chair and waited for a response from the officers gathered around him.
‘You’re sure that he’ll visit this place of his tonight?’
The informant shrugged, pursing his lips non-committally.
‘Of course I’m not sure, Rutilius Scaurus-’
‘Let’s keep this formal, Informant. There’s never going to be any point in our relationship when I’ll tolerate any degree of familiarity from you.’
Excingus smiled, and Marcus watched with fascination as he swallowed whatever irritation Scaurus’s swift put-down inspired in him with disturbing ease.
‘Of course, Tribune, my apologies for overstepping the bounds of our admittedly tenuous association. And no, I can’t be sure he’ll visit his private museum this evening. What I am sure of is that since he’s been there every night when he’s not had watch duty for the last week, it does seem to be a fairly reasonable bet that tonight will be no different, wouldn’t you agree?’
Julius leaned forward in his chair.
‘And how do you come by such good information, precisely?’
The informant leaned back, his face wreathed in a knowing smile.
‘Ah, the question that every man in my trade, be he good, bad or simply indifferent, comes to expect.’ He struck a pose, raising an eyebrow in a mock inquisitorial manner and speaking in the haughty tones of an aristocratic employer. ‘“So exactly how do you know this, Informant?”’ Changing his position, he adopted a sly look, his voice becoming more persuasive than hectoring. ‘“Do tell me, my man, where did you come by that fascinating snippet of information?”’ Sitting bolt upright, he strengthened his voice to imitate the bluff no-nonsense approach of a wealthy businessman. ‘“So come on then, Informant, how much do you want to tell me where you get all these secrets. What does it take for me to dispense with your services and cut out the man in the middle, eh?”’
He shook his head pityingly at the glowering first spear.
‘Everyone I deal with asks me the same question, sooner or later, and I’ve become more than expert at giving absolutely nothing away. Do you really believe that I’ll happily trot out my means of knowing where Dorso is going to be, and when? There’s honest and open, First Spear, and then there’s downright naivety.’
‘And we understand your desire not to have your sources suborned, Informant …’
‘And yet, Tribune?’
‘Precisely. And yet, what’s my guarantee that I’m not going to send my men into a trap, with or without your active participation? How do I know that you’ve not been fooled into accepting this apparent pattern in the praetorian’s movements? What if he’s a good deal more suspicious and careful than you’re implying, and whoever goes to confront him in this museum of his finds a warmer reception than we might have hoped for?’