Traitors of Rome (Eagles of the Empire 18) Read online

  Cato laughed and shook his head. ‘You have me there! Ah well, I need to pack my kit, and write my orders for you while I’m gone.’ His mirth faded and he was silent for a moment before he continued in a serious tone. ‘Look after my son for me, brother. And take good care of the cohort.’

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The sun had not yet risen as Cato and Macro emerged from the eastern gate of Tarsus. The mountains were still wreathed in shadows against the pink sky. The river that gave the city access to sea trade was hidden by mist, and only the tops of the reeds growing on the banks and the masts of moored merchant vessels indicated its course. They had left the house without waking Lucius, as Cato had wanted to avoid an emotional scene. Petronella had risen with Macro and embraced Cato before tucking a neat bundle of cloth into his sidebag.

  ‘Strips of dried beef, master,’ she explained. ‘Just in case.’

  Cato had nodded his thanks before he and Macro slipped out of the house, Petronella closing the door quietly behind them.

  The air felt cool outside the city, and Cato was grateful for his cloak. A short distance away on the road, the escort stood by their mounts, along with Apollonius and Flaminius. The letter had been sent ahead with the horses allocated from the army’s reserve of remounts, and Cato’s baggage. The men chosen for the escort had proven themselves fine soldiers since Cato had taken command of the cohort two years earlier. If it came to a fight, there was no better body of men to have at his back.

  Cato stopped and turned to Macro. ‘I’ll say farewell here, brother.’

  Macro nodded, and they clasped each other by the forearm. ‘May the gods watch over and protect you, sir.’

  Cato relaxed his grip, then slipped his hand into his sidebag and took out a scroll sealed with wax and marked with his equestrian ring. ‘If anything happens to me, this tells you the name of my banker in Rome, and how much he is holding for me. There’s also the house. You’re welcome to live there with Petronella if you choose not to go to Londinium, until Lucius is old enough to make good use of his inheritance. I’ve had my new will placed in the cohort’s strongbox, if it’s needed.’

  ‘Let’s hope it won’t be.’

  ‘Indeed.’ Cato smiled grimly and turned towards the waiting men. He refastened the buckle of the sidebag, then took the reins that Flaminius offered him and swung himself up into the saddle of his mount, a chestnut mare, adjusting his position to be comfortable for the ride ahead. When he was ready, he turned to the others and saw that Apollonius had already mounted without waiting for any order. He hesitated, sorely tempted to dress the man down, but feared that it might look petty and get the mission off to a bad start. Where they were headed, he could not afford for the small party to be riven by rivalry and resentment. Instead, he took a calming breath.

  ‘Embassy escort, mount!’

  The men climbed into their saddles, settled themselves quickly and took up their reins. Each carried personal kit and marching rations in sturdy packs slung across the backs of their cavalry horses. They wore mail vests over their tunics, and their helmets, shields and canteens hung from the saddle horns. They were armed with swords and daggers. One of the men carried General Corbulo’s standard with its depiction of a charging bull. Cato had been reluctant to take the standard with them for fear it might end up as a trophy for King Vologases, but Corbulo had insisted, arguing that it would indicate his good faith as well as proving that Cato was acting on the general’s behalf.

  A quick glance over the men and their mounts revealed that they were ready, and Cato waved his hand at the road ahead.

  ‘Advance!’

  He nudged his knees into the horse’s flank and the mare walked forward. Apollonius edged his mount forward alongside Cato, then came Flaminius, followed by the escort, riding in pairs. Turning in the saddle, Cato saw Macro just outside the gate, and raised his hand in salute. Macro returned the gesture. Cato turned back to face ahead and forced himself not to think of those he was leaving behind.

  ‘Are you ready for this, Tribune?’ Apollonius asked.

  Cato glanced at him and saw the calculating look in the other man’s eyes. ‘I am always ready to carry out my orders to the best of my ability.’

  The Greek looked at him and smiled cynically. ‘A stock answer if ever I heard one. You’ll have to do better than that when we address the Parthians. I would advise you to answer honestly in such matters, and save the careful responses for times that matter. It will help you to appear to be a man of integrity.’

  ‘Appear? What makes you think I am not a man of integrity?’

  ‘I didn’t say you weren’t. But it’s what you appear to be that counts when you are negotiating with the Parthians. It is better to be a schemer and to appear honest than to be an honest man who might be taken for a schemer.’

  ‘And you think that’s how I seem?’

  Apollonius thought for a moment before he responded. ‘I am told you are a good officer, and that you are as sharp-witted as you are brave. However, I barely know you, so I will reserve judgement for now.’

  ‘And how about you, Apollonius? What manner of man are you? A schemer? A spy? Or a diplomat?’

  Apollonius chuckled. ‘I am all those things, Tribune. And more. Just be thankful that I am on your side. For now,’ he added with an amused expression.

  Cato leaned slightly closer and lowered his voice so that they would not be overheard above the steady clop of hoofs. ‘I will say this now, Greek. If I ever think you are playing the rest of us falsely, and leading us into danger for whatever purpose of your own, I will cut your throat myself.’

  ‘You could certainly try . . . But come now, let us not start off badly. I work for Rome and your general. Corbulo trusts my judgement and abilities completely, and so should you.’

  ‘If there’s one thing I have learned in life, it’s that trust has to be earned.’

  ‘A valuable lesson, to be sure. And given your previous experience with your late wife, I can understand why you are so reluctant to trust people.’

  Cato felt a chill in his heart. How in Hades did this man come to know about Julia’s betrayal? He sensed that he was being watched closely as he formed his reply. This might well be another test of his capacity to deal with surprises. Or perhaps the Greek was just goading him for his own pleasure, though that was unlikely. Apollonius seemed far too self-assured and intelligent to derive satisfaction from such cheap stratagems.

  ‘You could not possibly know enough about her to pass judgement on her character,’ Cato said with menacing emphasis. ‘You will not talk of her again. And spare me any further conversation. We’ve a long journey ahead of us. It would be best if we focused on what lies ahead.’

  Apollonius nodded. ‘As you wish.’

  Cato urged his horse forward and opened a gap some two lengths ahead of the others. Apollonius made no attempt to keep up, and dropped back slightly to ride alongside Flaminius.

  ‘You’re the tribune’s servant, I take it,’ Cato heard him say.

  ‘I’m his slave,’ Flaminius replied flatly.

  ‘How long have you served him?’

  ‘He’s been my owner for two days.’

  ‘Two days? Then you hardly know him. And more to the point, he hardly knows you. Nor do I. But I am sure we’ll all have the pleasure of each other’s company in the days to come.’

  ‘I doubt it’ll be much of a pleasure,’ Flaminius replied, and spat to the side.

  ‘If you’ll take some advice, it might be better if you adopted an appropriately servile demeanour when addressing a free man, my friend.’

  Cato quickened the pace of his horse until he was out of earshot, and then slowed to a comfortable walk again. He reflected that whatever purpose Apollonius’s presence served on the embassy, one thing seemed certain: he was going to be a thorough pain in the arse if he continued in this vein. Were it
not for Cato’s concern for Macro’s safety, he would have had his friend riding at his side. He was sure to miss Macro’s companionship in the days ahead.

  Apollonius suddenly laughed, but Cato refused to look back to see why. Instead he focused on the road ahead, as the pointed ears of his mount rocked gently from side to side with every pace the mare took. The journey to Ctesiphon seemed longer than ever, he decided ruefully.

  The embassy followed the road east towards the Euphrates river, which marked the frontier between the Roman Empire and Parthia. They covered some thirty miles a day, stopping each night in the nearest village or town along the road that offered shelter. Cato made little attempt to engage Apollonius in discussion of anything that had no bearing on their mission. He was suspicious of the man’s intentions, as it was clear that General Corbulo’s agent knew far more than he was prepared to share with Cato. For his part, Apollonius seemed content to keep to himself, and rarely spoke to the men of the escort or Flaminius. The veteran fell easily into the routine of tending to Cato’s horse and kit, and ensuring that his new master had no cause for complaint.

  At dusk on the fourth day after leaving Tarsus, they entered the town of Doliche, where the road crossed the main trade route that linked Syria and Cappadocia. There they took over one of the barrack blocks belonging to the auxiliary unit that garrisoned the town. The Fourth Cilician cohort had been maintained at less than half-strength for a number of years due to the parsimony of the imperial purse. The barracks that were not inhabited were used for storage and had fallen into disrepair. They were infested by rats, and Cato ordered the escort to find staves to use on the vermin.

  While Flaminius unpacked his kit, Cato made his way over to Apollonius, who had managed to sling a hammock in a corner of one of the stalls at the end of the building.

  ‘I imagine you’ll want to come with me to speak with the prefect.’

  Apollonius shook his head. ‘I’ll leave that to you. If he has any news of interest, I’m sure you’ll share it with me. I’ll be gathering my own information. I’ve found that with sufficient application of wine and a certain charm, one can get a good deal out of merchants and traders.’

  ‘Fair enough.’

  Cato paused to inspect the hammock. So far he had not been aware of the Greek’s sleeping arrangements, as he kept himself apart from the man.

  ‘Is this what you usually sleep in?’

  ‘When I am travelling, yes.’ Apollonius gave it a gentle push to set it swinging and make sure that it did not come up against the wall. ‘It keeps me off the ground and away from the vermin and the lice. I picked up the habit of using one when I was at sea in my youth.’

  This was the first revelation of the agent’s origins, and Cato was keen to discover more without pressing the man too obviously. ‘You were a sailor, then?’

  Apollonius looked at him for a moment before he spoke in a genial tone. ‘Indeed. Five years on cargo ships working the sea routes from Hispania to Alexandria and up as far as Bithynia. That’s how I speak as many languages as I do. The gods have given me a gift for mastering tongues. There is no better place to learn such things than on the deck of a cargo ship, and in the streets and inns of seaports. And that is how I came to serve Rome, and General Corbulo in particular, these last few years.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘Do you?’ He tilted his head to one side and smiled slyly. ‘What makes you think any of that is true, Tribune? Because I have not said anything about my past these last few days, you have an appetite to know more. And that appetite tends to feed a man’s credulity somewhat. Why should you believe what I say?’

  Cato indicated the hammock. ‘That would seem to bear out your story about being a sailor.’

  ‘Really?’ The Greek smiled again. ‘The truth is, I won it off a sailor one night in Alexandria.’

  ‘And how do you explain your facility for languages?’

  ‘Through many years of hard work at the library in Alexandria.’

  They stared at each other for a moment before Cato asked, ‘Is that true?’

  ‘It might well be.’

  He sighed in frustration. ‘For Jupiter’s sake, man! Stop playing your bloody games, or so help me I’ll give you a kicking you won’t forget in a hurry.’

  Apollonius’s amused expression faded. ‘You might want to think again about that, Tribune. Learning languages, however I may have achieved that, is only one of the skills I acquired in my youth.’ He paused and looked round for a moment before he pointed. ‘Over there. You see that rat?’

  Cato glanced over his shoulder and saw a large black rodent sitting in the corner of the opposite stall. The animal rose up on its hind legs and sniffed the air. The next second, it was snatched off its feet and slapped against the wall behind it, the shaft of a slender dagger piercing its body. One of the Praetorians who was grooming his mount nearby whistled in admiration as Apollonius crossed over and retrieved the knife, wiping the blood from the blade using a strip of sacking that lay near the rat’s body. Satisfied that he had cleaned off all the gore, he slipped the blade back into a scabbard strapped underneath his left forearm and returned to the stall. As he lifted his saddlebags into the hammock, he spoke without meeting Cato’s eyes.

  ‘I’d think very carefully about threatening me again if I were you, Tribune.’

  Cato felt distinctly uncomfortable, and vulnerable too. He did not like the undertone of menace in the agent’s voice, and the demonstration of his lethal potential was thoroughly unnerving. If he had the choice, he would send the man back to Tarsus, but he could not countermand the general’s orders. Although Apollonius was supposed to serve as his aide, Cato could not help suspecting that he was with the embassy for some other purpose. It crossed his mind to have him arrested on some pretext and held here in Zeugma while the embassy continued into Parthia. However, he feared that Apollonius was resourceful enough to effect his own release and either return to Corbulo to denounce Cato, or come after him to rejoin the embassy. In which case they would be burdened by mutual recrimination and suspicion as they attempted to negotiate with the Parthians. Perhaps, he mused, it would be better to injure Apollonius and leave him behind. It was an unworthy thought; and besides, the agent might well wound Cato and some of his men in the process. He concluded bitterly that he was stuck with the man.

  He coughed and cleared his throat. ‘Hmm. Report to me after you get back from speaking to those merchants of yours.’

  ‘Of course, Tribune.’

  Cato nodded and turned away, striding towards the other end of the barrack block, where Flaminius was preparing a place for him to sleep. He approached the veteran and glanced over his shoulder before he spoke in an undertone. ‘Flaminius.’

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘I want you to keep an eye on our friend there.’ He nodded in the direction of Apollonius. ‘He’s shortly going to leave the barracks and head into the town. Follow him. See who he meets. If you can, get close enough to overhear them. Make sure you are not spotted, though. Think you can manage that?’

  Flaminius nodded.

  ‘Good. I want you to do the same wherever we stop for the night. And if you can, try and engage him in conversation when we’re on the road, or camping beside it. I need to find out everything I can about him.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Flaminius paused briefly before he continued. ‘There is another way. I was trained as an interrogator. If you let me have a few hours with him, he’ll tell you everything you want to know. I guarantee it. I was good at my job.’

  Cato considered the offer briefly. ‘No. It hasn’t come to that yet. Let’s use subtler methods for now. Just do as I say and report back to me anything you discover.’

  Flaminius raised his hand to salute, and stopped. Instead he bowed his head in obeisance. ‘Sorry, master. I forgot I am no longer a soldier.’

  ‘Never mind. As it happens, I’ve deci
ded to arm you in case your combat skills are needed. Once you’ve attended to the business with Apollonius, find the garrison’s quartermaster and tell him I have authorised you to be issued with sword, dagger and mail vest. Tell him to bill General Corbulo’s headquarters for the cost.’

  The old soldier’s expression creased into a smile for the first time since Cato had met him. ‘Thank you, sir . . . I mean, master.’

  ‘You can call me sir from now on. Let’s keep things as military as possible. I think that will make life easier for both of us. Carry on, Flaminius.’

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Cato left the barracks to find the commander of the Cilician cohort. The sun had already set and the sentries were lighting the braziers on top of the four gatehouses of the garrison’s enclosure. Above, the sky ranged seamlessly from a thin strip of red on the western horizon to a deep violet away to the east. The tiny dark forms of swifts darted through the gloom, and mules brayed from a pen at the end of one of the other barrack blocks. Despite the fort being built up from the remains of an older military structure that preceded the arrival of the Roman garrison, the engineers responsible for the work had endeavoured to follow the standard layout, and the commander’s quarters were located in the middle of the fort beside the intersection of the main thoroughfares.

  There was only one auxiliary on guard at the entrance to the building, and though his salute was smartly executed, his helmet was rusty and the leather of his belt and baldric was dull and badly chafed. Macro would never have tolerated such slovenliness, Cato mused as he passed through the arch into the modest courtyard beyond. There were storerooms to his right and cells to the left, while ahead lay the two-storey building that served as headquarters and the accommodation of the commanding officer.

  A clerk, the same man to whom Cato had reported on arrival, was working by the light of a pair of oil lamps. He stood as Cato entered, and smiled.

  ‘I trust the barracks are to your satisfaction, sir.’