‘Still making demands are you? Go on then, what is it you want me to tell the informant?’
‘Only the obvious. Not to make the mistake of thinking that he’ll get away with this last act of treachery. As of this moment his charmed life is on borrowed time, and the next time I see him I’ll have his head!’
The senator nodded.
‘And the question?’
‘It’s the same question you’ll be asking him, if you get the chance. That greasy bastard contacted you before Dorso died in the fire, didn’t he? He could have tipped you off to the fact that we were coming for the praetorian that night, but he didn’t. Why? Then, when he led the centurion here to Brutus’s hiding place, the ideal opportunity for him to have delivered my man to you without our ever having known the truth, he didn’t. And lastly, when he tipped you off to the fact that we would be making our move on Pilinius tonight, he failed to mention the one thing you had to have if you were going to take advantage of the information …’
He raised a hand to display his invitation, the silver rectangle winking red in the torchlight.
‘After all, he knew all too well that you’d never get into one of Pilinius’s special parties without one of these. I’m keeping mine as a souvenir of the night when I cleansed this city of some of its worst men. So, why didn’t he procure an invitation for you, Senator? It wouldn’t have been that difficult, given that he had Pilinius’s secretary over a barrel.’ He turned away again, calling back over his shoulder. ‘I think I’ve worked it out …’
6
Marcus rose before sunrise, having slept fitfully. Sitting on the bed, he mused briefly on Scaurus’s final words in the officers’ meeting the previous evening.
‘Last night we did a great service to Rome, gentlemen. We removed a dozen of the most depraved men in the Senate, and with a little luck we will have knocked a large enough hole in their ranks for a little fresh air to get in. And, let us not forget, we have also dealt out justice to the third of the men who slaughtered our colleague’s family. However …’ Marcus had already known what was coming next. ‘I can see no way that we’ll be able to bring that justice to the fourth of them. For one thing we no longer have the dubious services of the informant Excingus on our side.’
‘And for another, the bastard lives in a gladiatorial ludus among hundreds of men who revere him as their unofficial leader.’
The tribune took a sip of the wine he’d broached to celebrate their victory of the previous evening, nodding at Julius’s comment.
‘Quite so, First Spear. And so it is with regret that I am forced to concede that, for the time being, we will have to wait for an opportunity to arise. I hope you can understand my caution in this matter, Centurion?’
Marcus had nodded.
‘I can only profess my gratitude at the support you’ve given me so far, Tribune. To do anything else would be churlish.’
For a moment he was convinced that Scaurus had not fully believed his show of acceptance, but at length the tribune had nodded, raising his cup again.
‘Very well then, gentlemen! To victories gained, and one last victory to come!’
The officers had raised their cups, echoing the chorus, and Marcus had done the same despite his utter clarity as to what he had to do the next morning. He dressed in the darkness, having laid out the tunic and boots he intended to wear the previous night, and silently made his way to the bedroom’s door.
‘You’re leaving without saying goodbye?’
He froze at the door, realising that his stealthy exit had failed, then turned back and sat on the bed beside his wife.
‘I thought we said it all last night?’
Felicia sat up and knotted her fingers in his hair.
‘Not everything.’ She kissed him hard on the lips, her eyes wet with barely restrained tears. ‘You know you won’t come back this time. You know that once you’ve killed this man, his followers will tear you limb from limb. You know all this, and still you go to take your revenge no matter what the cost will be, despite the fact that this man Pilinius’s death has left you just as empty as the two you killed before him.’
He shrugged helplessly.
‘I still have no choice. Any day now we’ll be posted away, either back to Britannia or to whichever of the empire’s borders is creaking the loudest, and I’ll never see this city again, or finish the act of vengeance that I’ve begun.’
‘I know …’ She sighed. ‘I could have stopped you. I could have told Julius what you’re planning and he would have confined you to your quarters under guard, but the wall of resentment that would have been erected between us would have been too much for me to bear. So go.’ She turned her face to the wall, angrily wiping away the tears that were rolling down her cheeks. ‘Go and take your revenge. I hope it brings you some measure of satisfaction before you die …’
Marcus shook his head.
‘There’s no pleasure for me in this. But neither is there any choice …’
He stood up, stroking her hair one last time and left the darkened room, pacing silently through the house with his boots held in one hand. The little dog scampered across the tiled floor, eager to play, and he squatted down, submitting to the creature’s excited licks and nibbles at his fingers before making his way to the front door with the animal at his heels. Opening the door, he stood in the darkness for a moment before sitting down to pull on his boots.
‘You really are stupid enough to do this then?’
Marcus started, his hand reflexively reaching for a weapon that wasn’t fastened to his belt before relaxing again, as he realised who it was that had spoken.
‘Have you been waiting out there all night?’
Dubnus paced out before him, his face all but invisible in the starlight.
‘I was hardly going to risk walking up here from the barracks in the dark, was I? If I hadn’t been waylaid by thieves, I’d more than likely have slipped in the contents of some dirty bastard’s toilet and broken my back.’
The Roman stood, shaking his head at his friend.
‘Well you’ve wasted your time, unless you’ve got half a dozen men waiting in the shadows, because nothing less is going to stop me from doing this.’
The big Briton laughed quietly, his guffaw rich with dark humour.
‘Stop you? I know better than that! I’m not here to stop you, you idiot, I’m here to come along with you and watch your back. I’ve heard what happens to the new boys in these training schools, and-’
Marcus’s interjection was vehement, his hands held up in a gesture of flat refusal.
‘No! You’re not coming anywhere with me! This is my fight, and not worthy of your sacrifice!’
His friend put his hands on his hips.
‘Oh, you think so, do you? You think I’ll stand meekly aside and allow you to march off into the darkness, never to be seen again?’ He leaned forward, putting a broad finger in the Roman’s chest. ‘Well you can think a-fucking-gain, brother, because I’m coming with you whether you like it or not. We can either stand here and discuss the matter until the sun’s up, and Julius finds out about this plan of yours, or we can go to this ludus of yours together now. You can choose.’
Marcus eyed him darkly for a moment.
‘You realise that you’re condemning yourself to almost certain death in the arena?’
The Briton laughed again, but his previously hard-edged jocularity had softened to the fatalistic tone of a man contemplating his own impending demise.
‘I’m a soldier, Marcus. I face death every time I line my lads up to take their iron to whichever set of blue-nosed bastards it is we’re fighting. And besides, unlike most of the other men we’ll be fighting with, I’ve killed more times than I can remember. Trust me, you and I will cut a swathe through those fuckers the likes of which will be celebrated for many a year.’