Dark Eagle, page 27
‘But I have not committed any crime,’ growled Lepidus.
‘That is for the senate to decide,’ said Lepidus, ‘and as much as it hurts me to tell you, the penalty for such actions is death by strangulation.’
‘Do your worst, Uber,’ said Lepidus, ‘for I promise you that if I am to be condemned then I will ensure you are dragged down with me.’
‘We will see,’ said Umber and turned away to leave the room.
‘When is this so-called trial?’ asked Lepidus.
‘Oh, didn’t I say?’ asked Umber, turning back around. ‘It already happened about ten days ago. Nobody could determine your whereabouts, so you were tried in absentia. Unfortunately, you were found guilty, and the time allowed to appeal has now lapsed.’
‘What?’ gasped Lepidus. ‘But I have been here all the time. ‘
‘I knew that,’ said Umber, ‘and our friend out there knew that,’ he nodded towards the door and the waiting jailer outside, ‘but he would never let on, especially as I had his tongue cut out many years ago. You are now a guilty man, Lepidus and will be moved to the Carcer Tullianum in a few days. The sentence will be carried out as soon as possible after that.’
‘But I was entitled to a defender,’ shouted Lepidus, ‘even in my absence.’
‘Oh, you were defended,’ said Umber, ‘but unfortunately your representative didn’t do a very good job.’
‘Who was it?’ asked Lepidus, already guessing the answer.
‘It was your oldest friend and confidant,’ said Umber… ‘me!’
He turned away and left the room, leaving Lepidus staring at the slammed door. He knew that once sentenced, nobody that ever entered the Carcer Tullianum came back out alive. He was doomed and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.
----
Back in Aquae Tarbellicae, Marcia sat in the corner of her taberna talking to two rough looking men. The voices were muted so as not to be overheard but it was difficult as they were asking far too many questions for her liking, and she was painfully aware that she needed to be careful about how much she revealed.
It had already been three days since she last spoke to Lucilla and time was running out and she knew she had to do something soon or it would be too late. Finally, the conversation came to an end and the two men stood up.
‘Marcia,’ said the one, ‘you ask too much. You want us to go to a place that you will not name and rescue a man who must remain anonymous. How can we even begin to plan such a task under such circumstances? I wish you luck but until you can reveal more, this is something that does not interest me.’ He picked up the flask of beer and walked with his comrade to a table on the far side of the taberna.
Marcia sighed and sat back in the chair, exasperated. Her taberna was a well-known watering hole for all sorts of people from generals to thieves and over the years she had made many useful contacts. Indeed, the Hornless Bull had become known as the place to go if you needed something done and you had the money to pay for it. Nobody ever asked questions, but the notoriety came with a price, spies and double crossers. Many deals had been done in the taverna in the past, only for those promising the solution to betray the payer as soon as possible and pocket the money. It was a risk that she did not want to take but she was getting nowhere. One of her staff saw her and walked over with two cups of wine.
‘It looks like you are having a bad day,’ she said, ‘here, drink this.’
Marcia gulped down half a cup and looked back at the woman. They had worked together in the taberna for many years and although Claudia made most of her money entertaining men in the back rooms, she was a good friend and could be trusted.
‘I just don’t know what to do,’ said Marcia.
‘Can I help?’
‘Not unless you can conjure up a force of well-trained men who are willing to ride into the heart of Rome and snatch a man from under the nose of Caligula.’
‘What about that tribune that comes in here sometimes,’ said Claudia, ‘the handsome one. You seem very close to him, and he seems very capable.’
‘Do you mean Seneca?’
‘That’s the one.’
‘He would be perfect,’ said Marcia, ‘but I haven’t seen him in months. He may even be dead for all I know.’
‘He’s not dead,’ said Claudia, ‘he was in here last night, asking if any I had seen any of his men over the past few days.’
‘Seneca is here,’ gasped Marcia, the relief lifting from her shoulders like a mist in the noon sun. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘I didn’t know it was so important,’ said Claudia, ‘besides said he would be here for a few weeks so I knew you two would be getting together soon enough.’
‘Do you know where he is staying?’
‘No.’
‘Can you find out?’
‘I could, but why don’t you ask him yourself? He just walked in.’
Marcia turned around and saw Seneca talking to one of the other customers. She stood up and quickly walked over.
‘Marcia,’ he said as she approached, ‘it is good to see you. I have to talk to you about something.’
‘And I need to talk to you,’ said Marcia, grabbing his arm, ‘but not here. Come with me.’ They walked past the bar area and into a rear storeroom before Marcia closed the door and turned to face Seneca.
‘What’s wrong?’ he asked seeing the worried expression on her face. ‘Are you in trouble?’
‘Not me,’ said Marcia, ‘it’s Lepidus. Sit down, Seneca, we have a problem.’
----
For the next half an hour, Marcia told the tribune everything she had learned from Lucilla. Seneca listened in silence, interrupting only to ask a pertinent question or clarify a point. When Marcia was finished, he sat back, his mind processing everything he had just heard.
‘And where is his wife now?’ he asked.
‘In one of the hospitias not far from here. Don’t worry, she is being well looked after.’
‘I will need to speak to her in person,’ he said.
‘Is that wise? I always thought the fewer people who knew your face the better, especially when it came to families.’
‘This is different,’ said Seneca. ‘I consider Lepidus more than just my superior, he is also a close friend.’
‘So, can you help him?’
‘Hopefully,’ said Seneca, ‘but at the moment there are only three of us. Listen, I will put some things into motion, but I want you to do me a favour. If the gods have been kind, I am expecting another four of my men to turn up at your taberna in the next few days. It might be longer, but I cannot afford to wait. If they arrive, tell them exactly what you told me, don’t worry, they can be trusted. Tell them they are to come to Rome with all haste and meet me in the taberna opposite the Temple of Vesta as soon as they can. If they need anything, money, food horses, make the arrangements and put it on my account.’
‘Isn’t the Temple of Vesta a bit public?’
‘That’s the whole point,’ said Seneca. ‘With so many people making pilgrimages, a few extra weather-worn visitors won’t attract any attention.’
‘What do you intend to do?’
‘I don’t know yet,’ said Seneca, ‘I may be too late anyway but there is only one way to find out. Take me to Lucilla, Marcia, I will be leaving in the morning.’
----
The following morning, Seneca walked down a side lane to the public stables. He had spent several hours with Lucilla and although Marcia had covered just about everything, the one name that kept coming up was Senator Umber and it was plainly obvious that he was the man at the heart of all their troubles. Once he had finished with Lucilla, he went back to his lodgings and explained everything to Marcus and Raven, and despite making it clear that they did not have to go any further, both men dismissed his fears and vowed to accompany him. Needing to attend to some last unspoken business, he had left the lodgings and sent his two comrades to prepare the horses.
‘Is everything ready?’ he asked when he finally arrived at the stables.
‘We have paid the horse-master,’ said Marcus, ‘and have plenty of rations to last until the other side of the mountains. Once there, we’ll have to buy or steal more.’
‘Excellent,’ said Seneca, climbing into his saddle, ‘with a bit of luck, we could be there in a few weeks.’
All three men, turned their horses around and rode out of the lane, heading towards the road leading east out of Aquae Tarbellicae. As they passed the Hornless Bull, Seneca could see Marcia standing in the doorway, but there was no acknowledgement from either. There were far too many interested eyes around and the fewer people that knew their connection the better.
Twenty minutes later, Seneca reined in his horse where a second track crossed at right angles.
‘Straight on,’ said Raven behind him, ‘it is the quickest route.’
‘Not this time,’ said Seneca. ‘We are going to circle back around the town and head west.’
‘I thought you said we are going to Rome?’
‘We are,’ said Seneca, ‘but it sounds like Senator Umber may have anticipated our return and could have people along the route to stop us getting there.’
‘So which road are we taking?’
‘The one to the nearest port,’ said Seneca. ‘We will hire a ship and get there in half the time.’
‘That will cost a mountain of denarii,’ said Marcus.
‘I’ve told you before,’ said Seneca, patting the satchel hanging over his shoulder. ‘Money is not a problem. Now come, we have to go.’
----
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Rome
Seneca sat on a set of steps overlooking the Forum in the heart of Rome, eating slices cut from an apple with a small skinning knife. Dressed as a common citizen, he drew little attention from passers-by or any of the Cohortes Urbanae, the centralised force tasked with ensuring the security and peace of the capital.
Seneca and Marcus had been in Rome for three days whilst Raven, mainly due to his distinctive Celtic appearance, had set up camp in a forest outside the city walls to look after the horses. Marcus and Seneca, on the other hand, were distinctly Roman, both in appearance and manner, and they fitted in easily. For three days they had watched the prison overlooking the forum, learning the timings and habits of the guards on duty.
Both knew all about the infamous prison having grown up with the many tales of all the chieftains or conspirators against Rome that had met their untimely demise there. The upper chamber, occasionally used as a holding cell for those awaiting trial, was just a prelude to the hell that awaited those unfortunate enough to be sentenced to death, a simple hole in the floor through which the condemned were lowered to meet their grizzly fate in the windowless room below.
With no other way in or out, Seneca and Marcus knew that they had to come up with a strategy to gain entrance, but they also knew that until they knew for certain that Lepidus was actually in there, it was pointless making any detailed plans.
The routine of the guards was monotonous, but Seneca soon realised that it was the same group responsible for providing the security detail, albeit on alternating shifts and as he watched the never-ending routines, he focussed in on one man in particular, one who always seemed tired and whose uniform was slightly less crisp than the others. In addition, whenever that particular guard finished his span of duty, he did not go off with his comrades but headed in a different direction as if in a hurry to be somewhere else.
With his interest growing, Seneca decided to investigate further and when another shift came to an end and the unsuspecting guard hurried past, he threw away his apple stump and got to his feet, following him into the less-travelled back streets that most citizens tended to avoid.
After about ten minutes, Seneca saw him disappear through a doorway into a scruffy taberna. Without hesitation, he followed him in and took a seat across the room, purchasing a watered wine so as to not look out of place.
The guard ordered a frothing jug of ale and proceeded to drink half of it in one go before finally seeming to relax. At first, Seneca thought that the reliance on the ale was the cause of his strange behaviour, but a few moments later, a woman came to sit next to him and after receiving a coin from the guard, poured a powder into his drink from a glass vial.
Seneca was fascinated. He was no stranger to back street tabernas, and he had heard of such practises but had never seen them for himself. The guard finished the flask of ale and settled back into the corner of his seat. In the space of a few minutes, his jaw slowly dropped open and his eyes rolled back into his head. Whatever it was that he had just purchased had taken hold and he was now semi-conscious.
Seneca looked around, surprised to see nobody else was taking any notice but as his eyes became accustomed to the gloom, he could see that there were several other men in a similar state. Seeing his interest, the woman who had supplied the substance dropped into the seat next to him.
‘What’s the matter, stranger,’ she said, ‘haven’t you seen Eastern herb before?
‘Of course, I have,’ lied Seneca, ‘I’m just surprised that it worked so quickly. It must be good strength.’
‘’We supply only the best here,’ said the woman, ‘perhaps you would like to try some.’ She produced another vial and placed it on the table. ‘The first one is free,’ she said, ‘and if you like it, there is plenty more where that came from.’
‘How much do I need?’ asked Seneca.
‘One spoonful in any drink,’ said the woman, ‘and I promise you that your mind will be taken to the most wonderful places imaginable.’
‘And the cost?’
‘For a vial such as this one,’ she said, ‘one silver denarius, and for a refined man such as you, that is a pittance for the wonderous things that you will experience. One vial has ten spoons of Eastern Herb and will last you over a week.’
‘I will take one,’ said Seneca and produced a denarius from beneath his cloak.
‘Shall I refill your mug,’ asked the woman, ‘it needs to be dissolved in plenty of liquid.’
‘No,’ said Seneca, ‘I will take it with me and enjoy it in the comfort of my own bed.’
‘A good choice,’ said the woman standing up. ‘But don’t forget where we are when you want a refill.’
‘I won’t,’ said Seneca and the woman walked away to sell her drugs to another customer who had just entered the taberna.
Half an hour later, the guard slowly regained consciousness and after wiping the dribble from his chin, stumbled out of the door to walk up the hill into the heart of the city. Again, Seneca followed him and soon saw him descend some outside steps to a cellar door. Checking he wasn’t seen, he followed him down and peered between the slats of a badly maintained window shutter. Inside, by the light of several flickering candles, he could see a woman laying on a dirty bed, and three young children playing amongst the filth on the flag stoned floor. The children jumped to their feet and ran over to greet their father who delved deep beneath his cloak and produced some bread and cheese he had saved from his rations for the day, carefully breaking it three equal pieces to share amongst them. It was a pitiful scene, but Seneca realised that if he was to resolve his own problems, he had to put his feelings aside and exploit the situation in whatever way he could. Thinking rapidly, he formulated a plan and before he could have a chance to doubt himself, put it in to action. He walked up to the door and knocked gently.
‘Can I see your father,’ asked Seneca, when one of the children opened the door.
The child disappeared and moments later, the man took his place in the doorway.
‘What can I do for you, stranger?’ he asked.
‘I was in the taberna just now and saw you there,’ said Seneca, ‘I think you forgot this.’ He held up the vial of Eastern Herb.
The man’s eyes widened in alarm, and he pulled the door closed behind him.
‘What are you talking about?’ he hissed, ‘that isn’t mine.’
‘I know’ said Seneca, ‘for I was there the whole time you were under the influence of whatever this powder is. I also know you are a member of the Cohortes Urbanae, but what worries me more is that your wife seems sick, and your children are certainly hungry while you spend your money on ale and this powder.’ He held up the vial again. ‘What sort of man are you?’
The guard reached out to snatch the vial, but Seneca was too quick for him, pulling it back out of reach.
‘I don’t know who you are,’ snarled the man, ‘but this is none of your business, so I suggest you get from my door before you get hurt.’
‘You are welcome to try,’ said Seneca, ‘but first, listen to what I have to say for we both have something the other needs and I can help you sort all this mess out.’
‘Nobody can do that.
‘I can,’ said Seneca, and opened his hand to reveal a gold aureus.
The man’s eyes widened in shock, and he looked up with the slightest hint of hope in his eyes, balanced with more than its fair share of greed.
‘There are plenty more like this,’ said Seneca, ‘and all I need from you is some information.’
‘What sort of information?’
‘Just the answers to some questions. First of all, I want to know is if there is a man called Lepidus in the Carcer?’
‘I am not supposed to discuss anything to do with the prison,’ said the man. ‘It is punishable with dismissal or worse.’
Seneca’s fist closed around the coin.
‘It’s very simple,’ said Seneca, ‘just a nod or a shake of the head will suffice, and nobody will ever know that we have talked, so I’ll ask again, is there a man called Lepidus in the Carcer?’ He opened his hand again, displaying the gold coin.
The man nodded sharply.
‘Describe him to me.’
‘I did not see him clearly, but he looked very weak, and had been beaten.’
‘Do you know who he is?’
‘Only his name, but I heard he was in charge of a legion somewhere in Gallia and has been found guilty of treason.’
