The Far Shore (38 page)

‘Know the place?’ asked Cassius as the three of them squeezed together in a corner of the mausoleum, all looking at the villa through a hole in the wall.

‘No,’ replied Noster. ‘I didn’t even know anyone still lived round here.’

‘Indavara, did you check the perimeter to see if there are any other gates?’

Indavara glared at Cassius. ‘When was I supposed to fit that in?’

‘It’s strange,’ said Noster thoughtfully, leaning back against the wall. ‘Maseene hardly ever come into the town in daylight.’

‘Just children, messing around,’ said Cassius.

‘You’re lucky they didn’t “mess around” with you,’ replied Indavara.

‘Children or not, it’s still unusual,’ said Noster.

‘You must go and find Eborius,’ Cassius told him. ‘Bring him here, tell him he can forget everything else. But be damned careful. We can’t afford for our friend over there to know anything’s amiss.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Noster left and Cassius took his first proper look at the building. The villa was modest but well maintained, the only unusual features the high wall and shuttered windows.

‘I think it’s him,’ said Indavara. ‘Looked pretty small.’

‘Well, we’re due a bit of luck. Gods, I never even questioned the female staff at Memor’s place about Dio. But remember that servant Cimber? He saw the son of a bitch heading for the village earlier in the day. Looks like Clara saw him too.’

‘Someone’s coming,’ replied Indavara, looking left along the street.

They heard a bell chiming and a voice cry out in Latin: ‘Water! Nice clean water!’

An elderly man appeared from the direction of the Via Cyrenaica, trudging along towing a mule. Tied to a yoke over the saddle were two large barrels. ‘Get your water here!’

The gate of the villa swung open and the resident walked out on to the street holding a water skin.

‘That’s him,’ said Indavara.

Little could be gleaned from the man’s nondescript attire. He was wearing a well-cut beige tunic and a pair of sandals.

‘Just the one, sir.’ The vendor stopped and began filling the skin from one of the barrels.

‘Short and slight,’ whispered Cassius. ‘Dark hair. Not very light-skinned, not very dark; not particularly handsome, not particularly ugly.’

Once the skin was full, the vendor rested it against the gate while the man reached into a money bag and paid him.

‘And left-handed,’ added Cassius.

‘Dio,’ said Indavara.

Now came Cassius’s turn to grin. ‘Dio.’

Once Noster and Eborius returned, the legionary was posted as a lookout while the other three gathered at the far end of the mausoleum. Cassius estimated an hour had passed since the assassin had emerged from the villa. There had been no further sign of either him or Carnifex’s men.

‘You don’t know the place either?’ he asked.

Eborius shook his head. ‘I thought this area was empty. We do see the odd new face from time to time, but I try to keep track of who arrives and leaves. He can’t have been here that long.’

‘Or he’s purposefully kept a low profile,’ said Cassius. ‘He seems rather good at that.’

Eborius tapped the pommel of his sword. ‘So, are we going in? Before he has another chance to get away.’

‘He can’t,’ said Cassius. ‘I just checked. The gate’s the only way in or out. How did you fare with this Helvetius?’

‘My mistake,’ Eborius said sheepishly, running a hand through the tight curls of his hair. ‘The man’s name is Helvetius Cordus, not Corvix.’

‘Ah,’ said Cassius.

The centurion still smelt of wine. There was no way to tell if his mistake was an honest error or a result of the drink. What had the fellow at the marketplace said?
He was a good man.

‘So –
are
we going in?’ demanded Indavara. ‘Is there time for me to go back and get my sword?’

‘It’s four against one,’ said Cassius.

‘Assuming he’s alone,’ replied Indavara.

‘How do you want to do this?’ Cassius asked Eborius.

‘Someone should go to the rear. Just in case.’

‘Agreed,’ said Cassius. He turned to Indavara. ‘You can get over that wall?’

‘Easy.’

Cassius continued: ‘At the back there are only two high windows – very small. You should be able to approach unseen.’

‘So what are you three going to do?’ asked Indavara. ‘Just walk up to the gate?’

The centurion gestured at his belt. ‘He’ll see Noster and I are soldiers. May even know our faces.’

Eborius and Indavara looked at Cassius.

‘Looks like you’re ringing the bell,’ said Indavara.

Cassius wasn’t overly enamoured with the prospect of facing the assassin alone, even if only for a moment.

‘It’s best you go,’ added Indavara. ‘You won’t scare him.’

‘Also true,’ said Eborius. ‘No offence.’

‘None taken,’ Cassius replied. ‘Very well. But you and Noster must be quick.’

‘We’ll watch from here,’ said Eborius. ‘As soon as that gate opens we’ll charge straight in.’

‘Just make sure you do,’ said Cassius, recalling the foul-up on Rhodes when they’d tried to apprehend Drusus Viator.

‘I’ll brief Noster,’ said Eborius, walking away through the weeds.

Cassius took a moment to check his boots were well tied. He tightened his belt a notch and took a deep breath.

‘Don’t worry,’ said Indavara. ‘I’ll be over that rear wall in no time.’

‘I’m not worried.’

‘He’s a small man.’

‘He’s a small man who slits throats and cuts heads off.’

Cassius took a moment to consider what they were doing; he didn’t want to be rushed into a wrong move.

‘Perhaps we’re being rather hasty.’

Indavara frowned. ‘We’ve followed this bastard hundreds of miles across the sea. Now we’ve got him.’

‘But I’m sure he’s not working alone. Maybe we should just watch the villa – see who he makes contact with. Remember what Eborius said about all the exiles here?’

‘You want to wait? What if that gate suddenly opens and he rides out? We might not get this chance again.’

Cassius knew he could always rely on Indavara to favour the direct approach, but his thinking was correct. ‘Good point.’

Eborius returned. ‘Ready?’

Indavara ran his knife in and out of the sheath a few times. ‘I’ll get going.’

‘Take a wide route round,’ Cassius advised him. ‘Watch those windows.’

‘What are we going to do with this Dio anyway?’ asked Eborius once Indavara had left.

‘I’m not sure. We’ll have to search the place. Then perhaps wait until nightfall and get him back to the ship.’

‘You need to make him talk, I suppose.’

That particularly dark line of thought was a bit too much for Cassius’s nerves.

Eborius noticed. ‘You really aren’t like the other grain men I’ve met, Corbulo.’

‘I hear that a lot. I’ve come to consider it a compliment.’

‘And so it is,’ replied the centurion with a ready grin.

Cassius pointed towards the Via Cyrenaica. ‘I’ll walk back towards the road, then come down the street from a distance. Just in case.’

‘Good idea. See you shortly.’

Cassius waited for Eborius to reach the other end of the mausoleum, then walked out under the arch and turned left into the next street along. Once there, he made for the road, moving slowly to give Indavara time to get in position. Only when he was close to the Via Cyrenaica did he cut back and head down the street towards the villa.

With every step the cold hollow in his stomach grew larger. What should he say when Dio came to the gate? Did he even need to say anything? Not if the others were quick enough.

Thirty yards. Even walking suddenly seemed difficult; the tension had spread to his legs. He tried to saunter. He tapped his fingers against his belt; just a curious visitor taking a nice stroll. Twenty yards. No sound from the villa. He was almost level with the end of the mausoleum. No sign of Eborius and Noster. Would they get across the street quickly enough? Ten yards. Had he allowed enough time? What if Indavara wasn’t ready? Why hadn’t he waited longer?

The boy came tearing on to the street from an alley to the right and ran straight towards the villa. He looked about nine or ten. Over his shoulder was a leather pouch just like the young letter-carriers wore in towns and cities across the Empire. A messenger.

Cassius kept walking. With only a brief glance at him, the boy stopped at the gate and rang the bell. Cassius was well past when it opened.

‘Where have you been, you little shit?’ asked a voice in Latin. ‘I said the third hour.’

The Carthaginian sailors had been right. No obvious accent, nothing distinctive.

‘Sorry, sir. The goats got loose, I had to—’

‘Just come inside!’

A pause. A silence. Cassius imagined Dio staring at his back and again tried to affect the casual stride of a wandering visitor.

‘Do I have far to go, sir? Grandfather said I must be back by midday.’

‘You will be.’

The gate clanged shut.

Cassius intended to keep walking, circle back and tell the others what he’d heard. Then he realised: Indavara.

He darted left into the next alley and sprinted to the end, then looked round the corner towards the villa. ‘Thank the gods.’

Indavara was standing there, back pressed against the wall, listening.

Staying well hidden, Cassius waved at him.

After a few moments Indavara spotted him and ran over, crouching low.

‘By Jupiter, what a relief,’ said Cassius. ‘I thought you might have heard the bell and gone straight in.’

‘I was about to jump but then I heard him. Didn’t seem very likely he’d call you a “little shit”.’

‘A letter-carrier. And it sounds like Dio’s got something for him. Might be going to his employer.’

What are you thinking?’

‘We wait. Then grab the boy.’

The young messenger left a quarter of an hour later. It turned out Eborius knew him and the plan was to let him get well away from the villa before intercepting him. Indavara and Noster would remain behind, with orders to apprehend the assassin if he tried to leave.

Cassius and Eborius were already poised at the far end of the mausoleum. They heard the gate shut once more and Noster relayed a signal from Indavara, pointing back the way the boy had come – towards the Via Roma.

Eborius sprang away along the alley, Cassius close on his heels. The two officers kept their eyes trained to the south as they ran but it wasn’t until they crossed the fourth street that they saw the lad – disappearing into an alley thirty yards away.

Now nearing the Via Roma, they put in a burst and turned left down the next street. The lad emerged from the alley and stopped dead when he saw Eborius charging towards him. Barely out of breath, he glanced anxiously up at the two tall men.

‘Hello,’ said Eborius with a creditable attempt at warmth.

‘Hello, sir.’

‘You’re Baro’s grandson, aren’t you?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘What’s the name?’

‘Lucius, sir.’

The lad was skinny and dirty, wearing an unbelted tunic several sizes too big for him. He was evidently not of local stock, with skin as light as Cassius’s, straw-coloured hair and even a few freckles.

‘Well, Lucius, I’m on army business. I need to have a look in that bag of yours.’

Cassius had circled round to stand behind the boy.

‘Master said I shouldn’t stop, sir. I don’t think he’d like it.’

‘What’s his name?’ asked Cassius.

‘Don’t know, sir,’ the lad answered, glancing nervously over his shoulder. ‘Said I was to just call him “Master”.’

‘You’re a good boy, Lucius,’ said Eborius. ‘You know what I am, don’t you?’

‘A soldier.’

‘Just a soldier? Haven’t seen my crest or—’

‘A centurion.’

‘That’s right. You do know that the army is very important? If I tell you to do something, you have to do it. I promise we’ll give the bag back. Master won’t even know we’ve seen it.’

‘Grandfather said you’re not really a proper centurion, sir. He said Carnifex is the only one that counts.’

Eborius forced another smile. ‘Quite right. Centurion Carnifex is the one that counts. You wouldn’t want me to tell
him
that you went against the army, would you?’

Lucius took the bag off his shoulder and handed it over. As soon as Eborius had it in his hands, the lad tried to run. Cassius had seen it coming and stuck out a leg. As Lucius tripped and fell to the ground, Cassius grabbed his belt and held on to him. He kicked out, catching Cassius on the leg.

‘Ow! Little bastard.’

Eborius lifted Lucius up, planted him on his feet and held him by the shoulders. Tears were now streaming down the lad’s face.

‘Listen, Lucius. You’ve not done anything wrong. A few moments and you can be on your way.’

‘Just wanted to get a few coins for my grandfather, sir.’

‘I know.’

Cassius did his best to ignore his aching leg and pulled a golden aureus from his money bag. ‘All yours. If you do what we tell you.’

Lucius gazed longingly at the coin.

‘Come on.’

With a hand still on Lucius’s shoulder, Eborius directed him towards the nearest intact villa. The big centurion ducked under the low doorway and guided the boy over to an empty hearth, then sat him down on a stool. Cassius dragged a rickety bench over for himself and Eborius, which had the additional benefit of corralling the boy into a corner.