‘Gold. Enough to get you back to Rome, if you spend it sensibly. Go now, unless you still want to be standing there with your mouth open when the man makes his appearance. I’ll have your affairs tidied up and send the rest of the money on after you.’
Lateranus looked at him for a moment with a nonplussed expression, then nodded wearily.
‘I’ll go. But what about our co-conspirators?’
Dexter shook his head dismissively.
‘They’ll keep their heads well down until I find a way to deal with Gaius Rutilius Scaurus. And having them close to him will be the best way to ensure that when that opportunity comes I’m ready to ram it home with both hands, so to speak.’
‘There it is. Antioch.’
Scaurus reined his horse in and raised a hand to halt the men behind him. From their vantage point at the top of the mountain that towered over Seleucia, the city was spread out before them, still five miles away but with its magnificence undiluted by the distance.
‘Make the most of it, gentlemen. Up close it’s the usual mix of poor hygiene, inadequate sewerage and public indecency. Half a million people crammed into a city fit to house no more than half of them.’
‘Sounds good to me.’
Tribune Corvus raised an eyebrow at the cavalry detachment’s decurion.
‘I presume that your enthusiasm is mainly in anticipation of the public indecency aspect of the legatus’s description.’
Silus nodded happily, patting the purse hanging from his belt.
‘I’ve a mind to go riding, Tribune. And I may ride them two or three at a time.’
‘And you didn’t get enough riding practice, while you were sat around the transit barracks in Rome with nothing better to do?’
The decurion grinned back at him.
‘I won’t deny it was good of you to spend as long as you did on that private business of yours in Rome, Tribune, and gave us all a nice rest from galloping round pulling your chestnuts out of the fire. But after all that time on a boat with nothing better to screw than Old Lady Palm and her five daughters, the prospect of a city that’s known for its professional women is enough to have me nudging my saddle horns.’
Scaurus shook his head.
There won’t be any professional women where we’re going, Decurion. Take a good look at the city, and tell me what you see.’
Silus leaned over his horse’s neck, his eyes narrowing as he stared at the city nestled beneath the mountain that loomed over it.
‘A lot of buildings beneath a mountain, with a wall around the whole thing and a river running past it.’
And further out?’
‘Fewer buildings … farms … ah.’
‘Yes. A fortress. And it’s a big one, big enough for a legion in fact. They’re usually based on the frontier, or in known centres of potential trouble, but the governors of Syria have always kept a base of operations ready here, in case of a defeat on the Parthian frontier and the need to pull back to defend the city. Although quite how one might go about defending a city with a damned great mountain towering over it always rather baffled me. The policy with regard to this province has been one of forward defence for as long as I can remember, but all that seems to have changed from what the harbour master told me.’
He put his heels into the horse’s ribs, encouraging the animal to a swift trot, and the rest of the party followed suit.
‘Oh, and Decurion …’
Silus trotted his beast up alongside the legatus’s animal.
‘Sir?’
‘I’ve a job for you, something perfectly suited to your diplomatic skills. Take Centurion Cotta along with you, I think you’ll find his prior experience with this legion both valuable in opening doors and entertaining, when the men behind them see who it was knocking.’
Silus raised a jaundiced eyebrow at the veteran.
‘I was wondering why you’d brought him along. The horse’ll certainly be grateful to be out from under him, given he’s got all the riding ability of a sack of badly trained shit.’
‘Gentlemen, Governor Dexter.’
The governor’s secretary withdrew, leaving Scaurus and Marcus standing in the middle of a wide expanse of spotlessly clean marble across which their dusty boots had left faint ochre tracks. The governor was sitting behind his desk when the two men entered the light, airy office, his face turned towards the window that looked out over the city that sprawled away to the east before washing up against Mount Silpius’s western flank. Standing a pace behind his legatus, Marcus studied the senator’s appearance with an eye long accustomed to picking out the subtleties of fashion among the empire’s ruling class. The man sitting opposite them, deliberately turning his profile to them in an arrogant display of his superiority, had evidently cultivated the bushy, combed-out beard that had become the norm as Rome’s elite carefully aped the emperor’s chosen look. The beard’s fluffy hair disguised a jowly chin, and the governor had the look of a man unaccustomed to physical exercise. Turning theatrically, he stood, smoothing out his toga before striding round the desk with an outstretched hand and a broad smile.
‘Legatus Scaurus, greetings. Welcome back to Antioch.’
Scaurus stepped forward and took his hand, presenting a composed face to match the governor’s inscrutability.
‘Greetings, Governor Dexter! I have sailed from Rome to take command of the Third Gallic legion at the express command of the emperor, and to bring you this.’
He held out the message scroll that the imperial chamberlain had given him on the day of the Tungrian cohorts’ sailing, his face fixed in neutral lines as he recalled Cleander’s wry advice: ‘I can assure you that Domitius Dexter isn’t going to be a happy man when he opens that scroll, so you’d probably be well advised to make sure you look appropriately innocent when he does so.’
Dexter took the scroll, still staring fixedly at the man standing before him with a look that combined curiosity with something harder.
‘Thank you … Legatus.’
In the governor’s mouth the last word was more question than title, and Marcus saw signs of a growing incredulity spreading across his face despite his obvious efforts to compose himself. Scaurus offered him a second scroll, already unsealed and with its edges foxed from repeated reading.
‘Just for the sake of formality, Governor, you might like to read my orders …’
His tone was light, but the edge of steel in his voice caused Dexter’s eyes to narrow as he reached for the scroll. Reading swiftly, his head shook slightly from side to side with apparent amazement.
‘If I wasn’t reading it with my own eyes then I simply wouldn’t have believed it. You are appointed to command the Third Gallic, to gather whatever forces can be spared, and then to march to our outpost at Nisibis, defeating any enemy forces that may be threatening the integrity of Rome’s rightful frontiers.’ He looked up at Scaurus with a bemused expression. ‘You. An equestrian. In all my years I can honestly say I’ve never once been as genuinely amazed as I am now. An equestrian legatus? What next?’
‘A freedman as imperial chamberlain, perhaps, Governor?’
Dexter’s head snapped up, his face suddenly dark with anger.
‘If you’re trying to make fun of me then I’ll warn you that I’m not a man who reacts well to humour at my expense.’
Scaurus shook his head.
‘I’m deadly serious, Governor. There is a freedman currently occupying the role of imperial chamberlain, and running the empire in all but name.’
Dexter leaned back in his seat with the look of a man who saw the walls around him starting to topple inward.
‘Cleander?’
Scaurus nodded, and the governor ran a hand through his hair.
‘Gods below, the empire’s fate has slipped into the hands of the most venal individual in the palace. What happened to Perennis?’
‘The praetorian prefect managed to incur the displeasure of the emperor. I believe it had something to do with his putting his own image on a large number of coins, which then found their way into the emperor’s hands. As you might imagine, the matter didn’t end well for him.’