Noster came down to the harbour at the ninth hour with a simple message from Eborius: all was proceeding as intended and they should go ahead as planned. Cassius felt a mixture of relief and anxiety; Indavara seemed almost happy. Noster also had some other news, which he related as the three of them stood at the Fortuna’s bow.
‘The bodies were “discovered” this morning, by men of the First Century. Carnifex pinned it on two Maseene picked up just outside town yesterday. Procyon and Mutilus crucified them this morning. They’re hanging in the square.’
Indavara came closer. ‘Two warriors? Young men?’
‘Little more than boys. Some of the braver locals have protested to Governor Leon but he won’t do a damn thing.’
‘The two that attacked you?’ Cassius asked Indavara.
Indavara wandered over to the side-rail without a word.
‘Even neater than I thought,’ said Cassius.
‘The townspeople have swallowed it hook, line and sinker,’ said Noster. ‘They think they need Carnifex to protect them more than ever now.’
Indavara spat into the water.
‘Eborius hasn’t told me what you’re going to do,’ said Noster, ‘but whatever it is, I’ll be praying to Jupiter that it works.’
The crosses had been put up close to the ruined forum. One boy’s head had settled to the left, the other to the right. Cassius was thankful that their eyes were closed. He guessed they might have been dead before they were nailed up; their tunics were riven with holes, their lean frames covered with gashes and gouges. The blood from the nail-wounds in their palms had dried in dark streaks upon their skin and the wood. Splintered bone splayed out from the large nail that had been driven through one boy’s ankles.
‘By the gods, how foul.’
Indavara looked at Cassius. ‘Is that all you can say? The poor bastards were running round the streets this time yesterday. Can’t you offer a prayer or something?’
‘Considering what we’re about to do, I’d concentrate on your own fate. Come on.’
Indavara didn’t move. ‘Corbulo.’
Cassius stopped. ‘You don’t even share a god.’
‘Just say something. You’re good with words.’
Cassius let out a long breath before speaking.
‘These warriors died young. Too young. May their gods honour their memories and … watch over their families.’
Indavara clasped his hands together and nodded at the dead youths in turn.
‘Didn’t they try to kill you?’ asked Cassius.
Indavara looked at a trio of legionaries on the other side of the square. ‘Only because they thought I was one of them.’
Cassius didn’t recognise any of the men and concluded they were with the First Century. ‘We should go.’
‘Lead on,’ said Indavara. ‘I’m looking forward to this.’
The last person they saw in Darnis was Maro, working alone at the timber yard. They took care to stay away from the gate; the fewer people who saw them the better. After a mile or so, the slabs of stone underfoot came to an end and the Via Roma became a wide track of compacted mud. They saw no one at work in the fields, only a distant goatherd watching over his charges as they grazed across a water meadow.
According to Eborius, the road led eventually to Carnifex’s headquarters. Cassius had a story ready if they did encounter any of his legionaries, but even being seen in the area might prove costly considering what they were about to attempt. Eborius felt it was worth the risk of venturing beyond the town; Carnifex would be less wary close to his home ground.
‘What if he’s not alone?’ asked Indavara.
‘He will be.’
Indavara scowled. ‘Last night didn’t exactly go as planned, did it? Who do I have to back me up? You and a drunk.’
‘Just do your job and take the son of a bitch down quickly. He’ll never know what hit him.’
‘My pleasure.’
A mile further down the road they came to a bridge.
‘Not far now,’ said Cassius.
‘I thought there were no rivers here,’ said Indavara.
‘There aren’t. Look — it’s just a gorge. According to Noster the hole at the bottom widened during the earthquake.’
The bridge was about thirty yards wide: a single arch composed of large blocks of a reddish stone. The surface seemed to be in good condition but there was a painted sign next to the road: BEWARE: BRIDGE DAMAGED. Close by was a stack of timber, a pile of rusting nails and some coils of rope.
As they started across, Cassius moved close to the left-hand wall and looked down at the gorge. The slope was shallow close to the top but then angled sharply down before reaching a dark fissure ten feet wide. ‘Gods, it looks as though it leads down to Hades itself.’
A piercing cry was his only reply and he watched a pair of large black birds swoop out from under the bridge, monitoring the series of burrows close to the top of the gorge. Cassius noted the forked tails and the grey flecks on their wings.
‘Eagles?’ asked Indavara.
‘Black kites. Like an eagle, but they’ll take anything — food from your hand, fish from the water.’
As they neared the far side of the bridge, Cassius looked back and belatedly understood the need for the sign. Much of the supporting brickwork under the arch on the northern side had been lost, and the structure was reinforced by a flimsy-looking lattice of timber. This formed a frame under the stone, which was in turn supported by six large wooden posts embedded in the slope. Whatever had been used to keep the timbers together evidently hadn’t been deemed sufficient; each joint was also held together by thick lengths of rope. Cassius quickened his pace.
Beyond the gorge the Via Roma followed an incline up to a ridge. Just before the top — and exactly as Eborius had described — was a track running at right angles to the road. They turned left and followed the track through a dense grove of olive trees.
Apart from the scuffing of their boots on the ground, and the constant buzzing of unseen insects, all was quiet. The track eventually curved to the right and reached a small clearing, in the middle of which was a long-dead tree stump, charred and grey. On the other side of the clearing, facing north, was a barn with two arched doorways.
‘There it is,’ said Cassius. He led the way across the clearing and into the building. The interior was dominated by a wide stone oil press. At either end were shelves occupied only by a few broken amphorae. Shrunken, bitter-smelling olives littered the floor.
Indavara pointed at the doorways in turn. ‘One of us here, one of us there?’
‘Makes sense.’
Cassius removed his canteen from his belt and took a long drink of water mixed with Asdribar’s strongest wine, then put it down on the ground out of the way — he didn’t want it clinking against something at the wrong moment. Indavara took off his pack and leant his stave against the wall next to it. Cassius walked outside and around to the rear of the barn. Standing there was a small cart with a pack similar to Indavara’s in the back. Cassius returned to the building to find Indavara checking the view through various gaps in the masonry.
‘It’s there?’ asked the bodyguard.
‘It is.’
Taking care to remain in the shadows, Cassius tucked his thumbs into his belt and looked out at the track.
The red sun was low in the sky and the olive grove shrouded in shadow when Eborius arrived. He dismounted, tied his horse to the tree stump and hurried into the barn, not saying a word until he was inside.
‘He’s early. Coming now. I saw him on the road.’
‘Alone?’ asked Indavara.
‘Yes.’