A cloaked figure walked into the pool of light cast by the torches. Dio relaxed and returned to the wall.
‘No horse?’ asked Frugi.
‘Too loud,’ came the reply as the hood was pulled down.
The woman was hard to age; her hair was still fair but her face was heavily lined. She walked over to the others and looked down at the sack next to Dio.
Cassius was so transfixed by the scene below that he barely noticed Indavara drawing his sword again. But when the bodyguard turned to his left, Cassius did too. The grass was moving, and not solely because of the wind.
‘It’s me,’ came the deep voice, and Eborius emerged from the dark a moment later.
‘Thank the gods,’ said Cassius. ‘Where have you been?’
The centurion clapped a hand on Noster’s shoulder and knelt next to Cassius. ‘Sorry, Corbulo. Cervidus almost snapped his ankle on the way down, not a hundred paces from here. Couldn’t even walk. I had to get him and Atrabates back to the shore path, then find a position for the other three. Then this lot started turning up.’
‘Seen the latest arrival?’
‘Yes. Didn’t expect the third man to be a woman.’
‘You know her?’
‘The face. Can’t remember the name.’
‘Justina Trebantius,’ interjected Noster.
‘That’s it,’ said Eborius. ‘Lives out on the south side of town. Not far from that farmhouse Lucius was to deliver to.’
‘What do you know of her?’
‘Widow,’ continued Noster. ‘Husband was a procurator in Bithynia. Killed himself after some kind of scandal.’
‘I think I can probably guess who led that investigation,’ said Cassius.
He looked down into the quarry. Justina Trebantius was still staring at the sack. Nobody was talking.
‘Now?’ asked Indavara.
‘No,’ said Cassius. ‘Look at them. They’re still waiting. Someone else is coming.’
XXIV
The flaming torches appeared in quick succession. One, then three, then six; bobbing up and down, casting flickering streaks of light on to the narrow gully that formed the entrance to the quarry. The soldiers slowed their mounts to a walk as they neared the four conspirators.
‘This just got a lot more complicated,’ said Noster. Optio Procyon was first off his horse, closely followed by Optio Mutilus. Procyon nodded to Dio, then looked at the other three. Once the rest of the legionaries had dismounted, Mutilus ordered them into a line, penning the three men and one woman against the wall. Cassius counted the soldiers, some of whom weren’t carrying torches. Twelve. They all turned, waiting for the last rider to dismount.
‘Shit, shit, shit,’ whispered Noster.
The last man walked out of the darkness then stopped, surveying the scene in front of him.
Cassius turned to Eborius, whose head was bowed. ‘Carnifex?’
‘Carnifex.’
The centurion removed his helmet, the crest of which had been chopped down to half its normal height. Beneath was a close-cropped head of grey hair almost white at the temples. His armour was an archaic bronze muscle cuirass, his armament a similarly old-fashioned short sword. Carnifex was bull-necked and squat, with long, powerful arms and thick-fingered hands, which he rubbed together as he approached Dio. He had a slight limp.
‘Welcome back,’ he said, as they shook forearms. The assassin looked like a child next to Carnifex.
Cassius noticed that one of the men resembled a local more than a legionary. ‘Who’s that with the long hair?’
‘Sulli,’ replied Noster. ‘Carnifex’s local guide. He’s Maseene.’
Carnifex threw his helmet to Procyon, then gestured for Dio to pick up the sack. As the assassin did so, the old centurion turned to Mutilus. ‘Pilum.’
Mutilus took a long spear from his saddle, walked past the watching conspirators and handed it to his superior. Dio proffered the open bag. With a lopsided grin, Carnifex reached inside and pulled out Memor’s head by the hair. The skin was a strange dark grey and the face seemed to have collapsed in on itself. Carnifex held it up to Nepos and Frugi. Nepos simply gave a satisfied smirk, while Frugi took a celebratory drink from his bottle. Carnifex showed the head to his men, then finally to Justina Trebantius. She stepped forward and spat at it.
Chuckling, Carnifex jammed the head down on to the blade of the pilum, twisting it for good measure. At the bottom of the pilum was a butt-spike, which he drove into the ground next to the quarry wall.
He stepped back for a moment to admire his handiwork. ‘You got what was coming to you, friend. I’ve waited a long time for this.’
Carnifex took Procyon’s torch and held the flames under the head. It took a while to catch light, until the fat began to seep out of the skin. Carnifex seemed to particularly enjoy lighting each eye — watching the flaming jelly slip down over what remained of Memor’s face. For his final flourish, he waited for the flames to die, pulled the spear out of the ground, then swung it hard against the quarry wall. The head exploded, leaving fragments of skull and charred flesh on the ground.
Carnifex threw the pilum back to Mutilus, then snatched Frugi’s bottle from his hand. He took a long swig and gave it back to him.
‘Now,’ said the centurion, ‘to business.’
Within a few moments, Frugi, Nepos and Justina Trebantius had all produced heavy-looking bags of coins. Carnifex waved Procyon forward to collect them; the bony optio could only just carry them all. The centurion pointed at Dio.
‘Don’t worry,’ he told the other conspirators, ‘I’ll make sure our friend here gets his share. Reckon he deserves it. My own contribution — bringing in such an accomplished professional. That arrangement still all right with you three?’
Carnifex possessed the harsh accent and belligerent tone of those from the roughest, poorest quarters of Rome. Cassius despised him already.
‘Absolutely,’ said Frugi.
‘Of course,’ added Nepos.
‘I’d pay the same again if we could have Memor killed twice,’ said Justina Trebantius, drawing another chuckle from the centurion.
The last of Carnifex’s men arrived — a driver on a cart towed by two horses.
‘What’s that for?’ asked Frugi, bottle still in hand.
‘Your bodies,’ Carnifex replied flatly. He gestured to his men and stepped backwards. Four of the legionaries without torches drew their swords and advanced on the conspirators. Frugi’s bottle fell to the ground as he and Nepos retreated towards the quarry wall.
‘Carnifex, we had an agreement!’
‘Why, man?’ pleaded Nepos. ‘You know you can trust us.’
Justina Trebantius made a pathetic attempt to flee, only to be grabbed by Carnifex. He pulled her to him and held her, one arm round her neck, one arm round her waist.
‘We’re just going to sit and watch this?’ asked Indavara.
Cassius didn’t reply. Even if they could have got down there in time, they were heavily outnumbered.
The legionaries paired off and stabbed their swords into the cornered men. Nepos crumpled to the ground in an instant. Frugi died noisily, choking and flailing at his wounds as he slid down the quarry wall. Carnifex pushed Justina Trebantius towards Mutilus. The optio took a moment to line up his blade with his spare hand, then drove the blade straight into the woman’s heart. Her head shot up in a paroxysm of agony, teeth sparkling in the torchlight. There was an awful sucking sound as the legionary retracted his blade. Justina Trebantius staggered backwards. Carnifex caught her again, and turned her face towards him.
‘By the great gods,’ whispered Eborius.
The woman gazed at Carnifex with unblinking eyes. He gripped her chin and kissed her full on the lips. Procyon giggled. The centurion let go and shoved her towards the wall. She fell to the ground between Nepos and Frugi. Not one of them was moving.
‘Nice touch,’ said Dio.
Carnifex put his arm over the assassin’s shoulder and led him away from the bodies. ‘You did well, lad, very well indeed. Now what about this ship? Nothing to worry about?’