‘I will have you assigned to some duty out of the city that will keep the records straight’ added Paternus.
‘Sir, prefect Perennis is planning to find me a punishing duty somewhere. He might argue with you over the posting. Perhaps I am a little too high-profile in the guard at the moment to…’
Paternus shook his head. ‘Perennis warned me of his intention to transfer you to one of my cohorts as he is sick of dealing with your ‘resourcefulness’. That puts you under my direct command and I will decide where you go, Rufinus.’
He smiled. ‘And where you go is to the Villa Hadriana. You will keep us closely informed of everything you hear or see. I have already contrived to have a merchant named Constans, who has long been in the pay of the Frumentarii and the Praetorian Guard, consigned to deliver goods from Rome to the villa once each week upon the Dies Veneris. You can pass notes through Constans back to myself and vice versa.’
Rufinus swallowed again. ‘Sir, I’m not sure I’m devious enough for this sort of thing.’
‘For your sake I hope you’re wrong. Very simply, you can divide what we need to know into critical and non-critical information. The critical things are who will make the attempt, when they will do so, how they intend to do it, and the location. When we have all these four things, we can halt the attempt and you’ll have been successful. At that point it will be imperative for you to leave and pass any un-transmitted information back to me. The non-critical information you will likely come across during your investigation consists mostly of the names of any and all conspirators, including anybody who visits Lucilla for private talks. You may also hear further information that you consider important enough to pass on. We will be grateful for any of it, but not at the expense of risking the critical facts.’
Paternus took a deep breath. ‘Needless to say there’s a great deal of risk involved, and I’m not talking about risk to your life and limb, either. You’re a combat veteran so you’ll be prepared for that. The risk is of discovery with everything that would bring, from us losing any further chance at uncovering the plot down to the inevitable torture of those involved, yourself at the head of the list.’
Rufinus nodded, that cold knot in the pit of his belly making itself known again.
‘If things turn sour,’ Paternus continued, ‘and you are not captured, you will have to rely on your own skills to free yourself from the villa’s confines and make your way back to the city.’
Rufinus pursed his lips. ‘Is there anything I should know about the villa or its occupants, sir?’
‘Keen, isn’t he’ Gallus noted with a smile.
Pertinax shook his head slightly. ‘Fatalistic and professional, though the results are much the same.’
Paternus clicked his knuckles, a habit that Rufinus had noticed he only indulge on those rare occasions that he was tense. ‘Spend the evening in your quarters, preparing yourself. Discuss this with no one; if your friends ask where you are going, you can tell them I am sending you on courier duty by ship.’
He smiled and rubbed his hands together in an effort to stop himself cracking his knuckles. ‘Tomorrow morning you will make your way to the navalia in your tunic and cloak. You will seek out a small merchant vessel named Celeris. A place has been reserved for you for the journey upriver to Tibur. You will find old, worn legionary kit awaiting you in the vessel, along with a gladius. Dispose of your guard tunic on the journey, and you will be a former legionary seeking private employment when you arrive at Tibur.’
‘The name?’ senator Claudianus urged.
‘Yes. You’ll need an assumed name, but for the sake of not tripping yourself up, I would suggest that you simply drop your clan and branch names and go by Gnaeus Marcius. A good lie should be as close to the truth as possible. I’m sure that during your journey you’ll invent a convincing reason for having left the legions before your term was up.’
Rufinus nodded quietly. It seemed that every time his life eased, another weight was placed on top. From the dangerous obscurity of a frontline legionary in a time of war he’d been raised to the Praetorian Guard, only to come face to face with a level of bullying that had not only tested his patience, but threatened his life. He’d finally dealt with that problem only to be given an assignment that no man in his right mind would choose.
And here he was nodding…
‘Very well, Rufinus. I have further details to work out with the gentlemen here. Go home, rest and prepare. Think through any questions and concerns you have. I want you up bright and early tomorrow, long before dawn. Report to my office two hours before first watch and I will go through any extra details and try to answer any questions.’
He waved a hand. ‘Dismissed.’
Rufinus stood, turning and saluting the prefect and the three senators, before swinging open the door and stepping through. Twisting, he gently closed it and looked around conspiratorially, half expecting to see slaves crouched, listening to the conversation. Clearly Paternus either had that most curious and unlikely of things: slaves with no sense of curiosity, or they were too frightened of their master to eavesdrop.
Stepping from the building, his eyes fell on Mercator and Icarion in the shade of a barrack block colonnade opposite, passing a mug of watered wine back and forth. Rufinus was halfway across the intervening space when they saw him and stood, concern plastered across their faces.
‘‘Everything alright?’
Rufinus nodded, though his eyes belied the move. ‘I’m being sent on a courier job, to get me out of the way, I think.’
The three men turned and began to walk back toward Rufinus’ barracks. ‘Where to?’ Icarion asked with narrowed eyes.
‘Not sure yet’ Rufinus answered quietly. ‘I’ll find out in the morning, but it’s by ship and I might be gone quite a while.’ He took a deep breath. ‘And I very much suspect it’s dangerous.’
It was Mercator’s turn to narrow his eyes in suspicion. ‘They don’t send recent recruits on jobs like that. Even when they send veterans, we go in pairs. Usually it’s a job for the Frumentarii. What’s going on, Rufinus?’
The guardsman stopped dead, his friends pulling up in surprise. As Rufinus turned to them, his eyes flashed. ‘Just leave it, alright?’ he snapped.
‘Fair enough’ replied Icarion, making conciliatory gestures. ‘We’re concerned, that’s all.’
Rufinus stalked on toward the barracks, his friends close at heel. It was hard lying to the two men who had made his life bearable since he’d arrived in Rome. But things would become a lot worse in the near future and it was better for them to know as little as possible.
The sun beat down as he strode across the dusty ground. His friends walking silently behind him, he made for the shelter of his barracks where he could sit and think through the coming days with all their upheaval and danger. He tried to picture the villa he would be visiting, built by Hadrianus, an emperor noted for his great constructions.
In the villa would be the cold, bitter Lucilla, spinning her webs and spitting bile over her brother’s accession. And probably her husband, the Syrian Pompeianus. At least he might be reasonable. And the captivating slave girl…
Rufinus realised he’d stopped suddenly as Mercator walked into the back of him.
‘What’s up?’
Rufinus couldn’t help but break out into a curious smile. ‘Oh nothing. I’ve just had a thought. I think a sea voyage might be just the thing after all.’
PART THREE: VILLA HADRIANA
XII – Descent into intrigue
‘SHOW me your teeth.’ Rufinus blinked. He’d heard such requests at the slave market, of course. It was a standard check for the health of potential purchases and allowed a buyer the opportunity to gauge the level of acquiescence and servitude he could expect. A captive who’d barely been broken would resist or grind his teeth: all things to watch for in matters of long term suitability.