Cassius felt an icy chill wash over him.
Dio shook his head. ‘Just some rich idiot and a couple of women.’
Carnifex turned to Procyon, who nodded.
‘Like I said, covered my tracks all the way,’ continued the assassin. ‘Reached Rhodes via Paphos, changed ships on Crete.’
‘Very good,’ said the centurion. ‘What did I tell you, Procyon? You want a job done right, you’ve got to hire the best. And you know something else about assassins? Travel around a lot. Not many friends, not many ties. A lonely life. But it’s helpful in a way. Because it means no one will ever come looking for them.’
The arm that had been over Dio’s shoulder now dropped under the assassin’s chin. Carnifex squeezed his forearm, crushing Dio’s neck against his bronze cuirass.
‘Cent-’
Carnifex squeezed tighter. The assassin struggled, lashing out with his hands and feet, but Carnifex didn’t move an inch. In fact he didn’t even bother to use his other arm. The centurion looked around at his men and shrugged as Dio’s head shuddered and spittle bubbled from his mouth. Only when he had finally stopped moving did Carnifex let go. The small, limp form dropped to the ground at his feet.
‘What are you waiting for?’ he told Procyon after a moment. ‘I want them back in the villa in an hour and you lot out of town before dawn.’
‘Yes, sir.’
The optio returned Carnifex’s helmet.
The old centurion walked away past his men. One of them handed him his horse’s reins and he disappeared into the shadows.
For a long time, nobody said anything. Cassius, Indavara, Eborius and the two legionaries looked on as the men of the First Century went efficiently about their work. They put the bodies inside big sacks and loaded them on to the cart. Mutilus even took a moment to scatter gravel and dirt over the bloodstains. He and Procyon then mounted up and led the others out of the quarry.
When all the torches had finally disappeared, Noster spoke first. ‘Sir, shall I go and get the others?’
‘No,’ answered Eborius. ‘I’ll do it. You’ll never find them.’
He stood up and seemed to be about to say something, but then walked away through the grass. The others got to their feet too. Cassius reached into the pack, took a drink from his canteen and wished he’d brought something stronger.
The barracks were on the east side of Darnis, close to the old wall. Anxious to avoid any risk of contact with Carnifex’s men, Eborius retraced their route along the shore, then past the harbour — where all was quiet — before turning up into the town. Cassius recognised the area from when they’d followed him the previous day.
The building looked barely large enough for a century and was housed in a low-walled compound with a small parade ground at the front. Ignoring the main gate, Eborius led them round to the rear, where a sentry let them in. Some of the other men came out to meet their fellow soldiers but Eborius ordered them back to their rooms and instructed the squad to head directly to his quarters. He gave Noster a key and left him to open up, then went to check on the injured man.
The officers’ quarters were divided into two small rooms: an office at the front with a bedroom to the rear. For Cassius, it was hauntingly reminiscent of the fort at Alauran and his first assignment in Syria. As he, Indavara and the legionaries filed in, Noster fetched an oil lamp, then lit a lantern hanging over a large table. There were only two chairs so nobody sat down. Little had been said during the journey back and the silence continued until Eborius returned. The centurion shut the door behind him, took off his cloak and sword belt and hung them from hooks on the wall.
‘How is he?’ asked Cassius.
‘Ankle’s badly swollen but I don’t think there’s a break.’ Eborius gestured to one of the chairs. ‘Please.’
Cassius sat down; he was grateful to take the weight off his feet.
Eborius addressed his men. ‘First things first. None of you can speak of what you saw tonight. Not amongst yourselves, to the other men, nor to anyone else. I don’t think I need to explain why.’
Cassius caught the centurion’s eye. ‘I’ll need a signed and dated account from all those who can write. Evidence.’
‘They can all write. I’ll get the accounts to you later.’
Eborius turned to the legionaries again. ‘I need a pledge from each of you. This goes no further.’
Noster began. ‘You have my word, sir.’
‘And mine, sir,’ said the next man.
Each in turn gave his promise.
‘Now,’ said Eborius, ‘I need to talk to the officer here. I’m sure you could all use some shut-eye.’
He opened the door and the men trooped out. Noster hung back but Eborius gestured towards the door and gave the veteran another clap on the shoulder. Once they were gone, Eborius grabbed a chair from the bedroom for Indavara, then located three wooden mugs and a jug. He filled up the mugs with wine, sat down and drank.
Cassius stared down at the lamp, the little wick floating on a sea of golden oil. ‘I don’t hold with much of what Simo rambles on about, but the Christians believe their god is engaged in an eternal battle with his nemesis, a dark lord named Satan. They think this Satan has unleashed demons into the world in the form of men. After what we saw tonight, I find myself rather more accepting of such a concept.’
Eborius looked at his wine as he swilled it around the mug. ‘I should have known there couldn’t be any sort of underhand activity going on in Darnis without Carnifex being involved somehow. Any idea what he might have had against Memor?’
Cassius shook his head. ‘Just another in a long line of vengeful enemies, I expect.’
‘What about his orders — “I want them back in the villa”?’
‘Dio’s place, perhaps,’ said Cassius. ‘They might try and make it look as if he killed them, or that they were all killed together by someone else.’
‘Very neat.’
‘Enough to fool the locals perhaps, but in the grand scheme of things it won’t matter. Your testimony and mine and the men’s accounts will be enough for a court in Rome. That’s if the Service would want to handle it in so public a manner, which I doubt.’
Eborius looked up. ‘What are you saying?’
Cassius hadn’t spoken during the trip back but he had been thinking, and the alternatives were remarkably simple.
‘There are really only three choices. First, we could get help from the Service, which probably means Egypt — I know of a man there my superior mentioned. Second, we could go to the governor in Cyrene, present him with the facts and invoke the full authority of the Service. He might at least place Carnifex under arrest. But both of those would take time. Weeks in fact.’
Eborius leant back in the chair. ‘Or?’
‘Asdribar tells me the Fortuna will be ready to sail within a day.’ Cassius paused; he could hardly believe what he was about to suggest. ‘What if we grab Carnifex and take him with us?’
Eborius gave an ironic smile, then stared up at the ceiling.
‘Well?’ Cassius asked after a few moments. ‘Darnis could be rid of him for good. You could take over here, try and get things back to how they were. The Service would be grateful. Very grateful. I’d see to it that you were well-’
‘Don’t,’ said the big centurion. ‘Don’t bother.’
Cassius decided to keep quiet; there was no point trying to make Eborius’s decision for him.
The centurion hunched forward, arms on the table. ‘If you take that man on, you need to be prepared to go to war with him.’
‘I’ve got no problem with that,’ said Indavara.
‘There’ll be no war,’ said Cassius. ‘If we do this right, there needn’t even be a drop more blood spilt. Carnifex thinks his plan worked to perfection. He doesn’t know we’re here. He’s vulnerable. So we have to do this now. Will you help?’
Eborius’s chair screeched on the stone floor as he pushed it away and stood. ‘He’s clever. And he can sniff out a trap a mile off.’