Rufinus watched it go, his heart pounding in his chest as he let go of the sword grip and flexed his fingers. If he ever came up against both of those hounds at the same time, the contest would go entirely the canines’ way. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw the fear in Senova’s eyes and understood it perfectly.
Listening, he could hear the heavy paws clattering down the wooden staircase over the persistent drumming of the rain.
‘It’s gone. We’ll be safe now, but I think I’ll escort you back to the palace, just in case.’
Senova nodded nervously and clung tightly to him as he stepped out onto the slimy wooden walkway. A quick glance over the edge revealed the dog leaping the last eight feet or so from the lowest landing and scampering across the sodden grass to where Dis stood, hunting bow in hand, with the other dog, looking up at the walkway. His eyes never left the pair of them as the savage hound ran up to its master and squirmed around his legs like a puppy until he dropped his free hand and ruffled the hair behind its ears.
Rufinus felt a chill run down his spine as he watched the figure. Dis stood motionless and silent, like some marble sentinel. Something about him was almost inhuman.
‘Come on.’
Grasping Senova’s hand, Rufinus walked her toward the stairs, ignoring both the heavy rain lashing down at them and the stare of those hollow eyes boring into him. As quickly as he dared in the conditions, he hurried them down the slippery steps. For the first three flights, every time the grass below came into view, Rufinus could see the shape of Dis watching them, hunting bow in hand, a dog by each shin, until finally, as they descended to the lowest landing, the figures had vanished, quickly and silently.
Rufinus cursed to himself, invoking the name of three Gods just in case. Likely a confrontation was coming with Dis. A hollow man like that was a challenge enough in the ring, let alone out of it and with no rules, and with two hounds of Hades thrown in to boot!
Hurrying onwards, they descended into the welcome shelter of the passageway that echoed with the drip of rain from a score of light wells. Back along the corridor they shuffled together, the chill of the weather seeping deep into their bones, until they reached the place where Rufinus had first entered.
‘I can go from here. I must hurry. Thank you.’
Rufinus opened his mouth to protest that he should walk her to the palace, but closed it again as common sense took control of his head. She was in no danger, particularly with Dis and his dogs on the far side of the villa, out in the grounds. And it would do her no good to be seen consorting with a guard, given the mistress’ rules of non-fraternisation.
‘Alright. Go safe, and thank you.’
Senova treated him to a heart-warming smile and, climbing the stairs, disappeared off into the distance. Rufinus stood for a moment and then, deciding on a course of action, climbed the stairs himself and veered off to the left. He would yet go and make use of the baths and dry his clothes, but not until he had done something else first. Besides, by then Phaestor and his companions would have left and he could relax in peace.
At the top of the stairs, where a decorative arch opened out into a well-tended lawn surrounded by sculpted hedges and bushes, the right led off to the olive-tree strewn hillside and the largely abandoned buildings at the south end of the villa’s grounds. Straight ahead, past which Senova had hurried, was the bath house. To the left, where he now trod with purposeful gait, was the nearest wing of the palace.
Marching through the downpour, he made for the doorway into Pompeianus’ interior garden, a portal that he had spotted several times on his visits to the baths and had noted was almost always open. Few people cared about the security of the mistress’ consort.
Taking a deep breath, aware that he could land himself in serious trouble if he was found wandering the palace without permission, he strode through the gateway and into the long, well-kept garden. Stretching some hundred and twenty paces and bisecting the two built-up sections of the palace wing, the stadium-shaped garden, with a curved decorative exedra at the nearest end, was a beautifully designed space of ponds, fountains, hedges, flower beds, and gravelled seating areas.
A figure moved among the small conifers growing in huge pots near the centre, snipping and pruning, and Rufinus shrank instinctively back against the wall, fearing discovery.
As he slunk along the wall’s edge, his mind raced. Pompeianus lived here, unpopular and almost in seclusion, with his own servants and hardly any contact with the guards or his wife. Any servant Rufinus found here would be one of the Syrian nobleman’s own.
Another deep breath. Nothing ventured: nothing gained.
Striding out from the wall, his boots crunching on the wet gravel, Rufinus approached the hunched figure of the gardener, busily tidying a decorative conifer, his straw hat waxed for extra protection as the torrents of rain ran from it and fell onto the cape he wore beneath.
‘Excuse me’ he said loudly, over the sounds of the rain striking leaves all around.
The figure paused in his work and turned.
‘I need to speak with your master. Would you be so kind as to take me to him?’
Pompeianus, former highly decorated general of the empire and husband of the most powerful woman in the world, turned with a smile, tapping the brim of his hat so that a fresh sheet of rain bounced off it. ‘I was wondering when you’d decide to show up, young man. Best come in out of the rain.’
Gesturing for the surprised Rufinus to follow, Pompeianus strode towards a door into the building to the left. ‘I have a rather good bottle of Falernian resting open and breathing the cool air. I’m sure after your exertions you would not be averse to joining me for a tipple while you tell me what is on your mind?’
Rufinus nodded seriously. ‘I think the time has come for us to have a talk, general.’
XIV – Understandings and revelations
POMPEIANUS sat back and exhaled slowly, rubbing his temple. Rufinus sat nervously, having revealed every last detail of his involvement with Commodus, the two Praetorian prefects, the lady Lucilla and her personal slave. He had found, as he talked frankly and openly, that such a weight lifted from him that he had gone far beyond his initial intentions and had laid his soul bare before the Syrian former general. Somehow the man’s presence was comforting enough that it felt good to do so.
Now, however, was crunch-time. What would Pompeianus do?
The general nodded to himself, apparently mulling over the information as he digested it.
‘You have been a busy man.’
Rufinus nodded, his breath held. He’d even spoken in careful and peripheral terms of his confrontation and disposal of the animal Scopius, though omitting both name and location. He’d given over enough secrets to see himself executed five times over, for all the extenuating circumstances that had influenced his actions. But the only way anything was possible here in this palatial villa was through the acquiring of allies. And the only way to ally with Pompeianus was to come clean with him. A gesture of trust.
‘I remember you from Vindobona. I suspect that my wife and most of the notables will have only seen a soldier, for all your valour. Paternus clearly saw something else; Perennis too, else he would hardly have cared about your sudden prominence. I saw something in your eyes that at the time I took as deviousness, and I wondered whether you were busy engineering your advance. I see now that I was wrong.’
He gave a light chuckle. ‘You may very well be the only honourable member of the Praetorian Guard in its illustrious history!’
Rufinus gave a small nervous laugh. ‘But general, what of prefect Perennis and his meetings with your wife? Do you not feel conflicted, given your familial connections, your acceptance of his patronage and his possible involvement?’