Vettius nodded, starting to look bored rather than intrigued. Rufinus felt his heart lurch. He was losing the man.
‘It’s all fascinating,’ the major domo replied, stifling a yawn, ‘but few men join a private mercenary force without some darkness in their past. That he manufactured a false history is no surprise and certainly no reason to bother me if captain Phaestor is satisfied.’
‘There’s more to it, yet, sir.’ Rufinus said quickly. ‘He claimed not to read, but I have seen him do so. His hands are soft, like a man not used to manual labour. I have heard him swear in Greek when he thinks no one is looking. Greek, sir!’
‘Unusual, I’ll grant you, for an uneducated soldier, but you are wasting my time, man. I have work to do and so do you, now leave.’
Rufinus shook his head and rifled in his purse.
Vettius fixed him with an irritated look but said nothing as Rufinus slapped an old, faded, charred fragment of parchment onto the desk’s surface.
‘Tell me where an ordinary, poor guard would get expensive parchment. Why he would have it if he can’t read or write. Tell me why he read it alone at night by the light of a solitary torch when he thought no one was watching. Tell me then why he burned it after reading, save this single scrap I managed to salvage.’
The major domo’s brow furrowed and he reached out, carefully picking up the scrap and examining it.
‘Tell me about it, sir? It was that very fragment that started me watching him. I couldn’t come to Phaestor. Only an educated man such as yourself would understand the significance of the language and the man’s behaviour, and of this: I had no idea what the letters on it meant, so I spent every moment I could listening to Fastus when he thought no one was around. I’ve listened to him talking about someone called ‘Cleander’, and I’ve heard that name mentioned before alongside the emperor’s. Some sort of friend?’
A lie there, but it would have been hard to explain away how he could make the connection from his own knowledge without arousing suspicions about himself. Vettius turned the fragment slightly and Rufinus was satisfied to note the man’s eyes widen.
‘’ANDE’…Cleander? The soldier you speak of is in touch with that snake? Why did you not start by telling me this?’
Suddenly the man was all action, snapping shut the wax tablet and dropping the stylus next to it, rising from his chair and straightening his tunic.
‘You have done well, soldier…’
‘Marcius, sir. Gnaeus Marcius. I don’t trust the man, sir.’
‘With good reason it seems, Marcius. Do you know where he is now?’
Rufinus shrugged. ‘When I rose this morning, he was still in his cot. If he’s not still there, he’ll be at the baths for his morning ablutions. He’s not on duty today.’
Vettius nodded and padded past him to the door, flinging it open and looking along the passage to the muscular man guarding the far door.
‘You! Come with me.’
The big man, a Gaul named Atracus if Rufinus remembered correctly, blinked in surprise, but quickly gripped the pommel of the longsword hanging at his side and strode forth, his wool cloak flapping behind him. Rufinus followed him out as the major domo beckoned and turned away toward the door through which he had arrived.
The big Gaul frowned at Rufinus suspiciously as they fell in behind the small, thin man with the oiled, blue-black hair. Walking out of the corridor into the triangular portico, Vettius gestured to the man guarding the door to the palace baths.
‘You too. Come with me.’
On they strode, back through the small door, across the paved area, where Rufus was careful not to fall foul of that ice patch again, and into the guard barracks. Three of the men were milling about, chatting in the courtyard.
‘None of them?’ Vettius said quietly. Rufinus shook his head and the major domo cleared his throat and addressed the small gathering.
‘Two of you come with me. The other: go find captain Phaestor and ask him to report to the council chamber at once.’
Surprised, the three men dithered for only a moment before two of them hurried across to fall in with the small party, the third charging off toward the door.
‘What was his name again?’
Rufinus took a deep breath. ‘Fastus. I think its Publius Fastus, but he’s not been very forthcoming with his name.’
Vettius nodded. ‘Guardsman Fastus? Would you be so kind as to step out here?’
The general murmur of background noise fell away and faces appeared in the various doorways on both levels. After a pregnant pause, the pale face of Fastus appeared at the rail above, the curious shape of their flatulent roommate Glaucus behind him, scratching himself unceremoniously.
‘Yes?’ Fastus said quietly and innocently enough, though Rufinus could almost see the tension in the man.
‘Down here, please.’
Fastus, a look of baffled innocence plastered across his face, shuffled across and padded lightly down the stairs in soft boots, a recent and surprisingly expensive acquisition.
‘What’s the problem, master Vettius?’
The major domo frowned. ‘Seize him’ he said sharply and, without need of explanation, the two guards who had accompanied them stepped forward and grasped Fastus’ arms, forcing them behind his back.
‘What the…?’
Vettius turned away. ‘Take him to the council chamber, all four of you. Don’t let go of him even for a moment.’
As Fastus was hauled, protesting, from the barracks, Rufinus felt the sudden lurch of guilt he had been dreading all morning. Had the man been a bit more subtle and observant it might well have been Rufinus that was now being dragged away while Fastus wrung his hands guiltily. Biting his cheek, Rufinus told himself once again that any man being secretive and doing Cleander’s bidding was far from innocent. It didn’t help relieve an ounce of the guilt. The major domo looked up at the doorway of their shared room and mused.
‘Is the brute up there trustworthy?’ he asked.
‘Glaucus? Absolutely.’
‘You’ the major domo said, addressing their room-mate at the top of the stairs. ‘Make a very thorough search of Fastus’ things and bring everything but clothing and armour to the council chamber as soon as you can.’
Glaucus, surprised, finished rummaging down the front of his breeches and nodded, turning back and disappearing into his room.
‘Come on.’
In the blink of an eye Rufinus was being escorted through the door at the far end of the office corridor and down passages he’d not seen before, finally entering a large chamber, well-appointed and with an apse containing statues of the great emperor Hadrianus and his family. A throne occupied the centre of the curved end, while the rest of the perfect marble floor stood empty. Even the walls were of priceless porphyry and expensive black and Numidian yellow marble, the ceiling coffered and leafed in gold.
In the centre of the floor stood Fastus, arms still jammed painfully up behind him as the four guards held him tight. While Rufinus was hardly one of the most readily accepted members of the villa’s mercenary force, thankfully Fastus had been even more solitary and quiet than he, and no one else was inclined to lend the man the benefit of any doubt.
Once more the guilt rose in Rufinus and he had to swallow hard and force it back down.
‘Marcius?’ the restricted man said in confusion. ‘What’s happening? What have you done?’
Rufinus tried not to flinch and met the man’s desperate gaze with an expressionless face. As Vettius strode over to the group, beckoning to Rufinus, another door smashed open, bouncing off the marble of the wall with a crash that echoed repeatedly around the room. Phaestor marched into the room angrily, the hulking, terrifying figure of Tad behind him, gripping one of his skinning knives in a huge, meaty paw.