'I thought the main job of the epimeletai was investigating unexplained corpses?'
'Well, that too. But, as I was saying, you are doomed to a life of misery. After a time, the irrational fear never stops preying on your mind. A hot little tart is spread on the bed in front of you, but what can you do? Nothing. Your sword sleeps in your hand. All the time, you are looking over your shoulder.'
Maximus was spared any more by the arrival of Demetrius. As he walked across the terrace, the secretary called to a serving girl to bring them more wine. The Greek youth was growing up, thought Maximus. Possibly the suffering and fear of the siege and flight from Arete had begun to make a man of him.
Demetrius pulled a brazier nearer to the table. A chill wind was getting up; it carried the smell of the first winter rains. 'Good news and bad news,' he said as he sat down. 'The good first: we all have tomorrow off. The dominus is going hunting in the mountains towards Daphne with Aurelian. He says that, if he took his secretary, it would look as if he were not devoting himself to the pleasures on offer; if he took his manservant, that he did not trust his host's cook; and his bodyguard, that he did not trust his host himself.'
'Which Aurelian?' Calgacus croaked.
'The Danubian one,' Demetrius continued. 'The Aurelian to whom a strange thing just happened as everyone left the palace. In his haste he mounted the wrong horse. Not his own, but the emperor's. He dismounted quickly enough when it was pointed out to him, but a few people noticed.'
'Something he should keep very quiet about, and something that others should not discuss in public,' Calgacus interrupted. 'So what is the bad news?'
'Aurelian has been appointed a deputy to the Dux Ripae.'
'Nothing much wrong with that,' said Maximus. 'Sure young manu-ad-ferrum, hand-to-steel, has a quick temper, likes a drink and is a savage one for the discipline. The troops fear him more than love him, but he is a good fighter. They say he killed forty-eight Sarmatians with his own blade in a single day.' Maximus began to sing a marching song: Thousand, thousand, thousand we've beheaded now. One man, a thousand we've beheaded now. A thousand drinks, a thousand killed. So much wine no one has as the blood that he has spilt. Maximus had been drinking for some time, but the staff and clientele at Circe's Island were used to boisterous behaviour.
A boat loomed out of the darkness and bumped up against the ramshackle tenement next door. Seemingly from nowhere, dozens of women and children appeared and, with much calling back and forth, set about unloading its cargo of fish.
'The Dux has been given two deputies. The other one is the bad news.' Demetrius paused. 'It is Gaius Acilius Glabrio.'
'The brother of that smug little shit at Arete? The one who has publicly sworn revenge on Ballista for his brother's death? That's insane. What is that old fool of an emperor playing at?' Maximus' flow of words was cut off by Calgacus placing his hand on his arm.
'It is not for us to debate the ways of our masters,' the old Caledonian said sanctimoniously. 'Now, Demetrius, I was just discussing Maximus' little problem. It seems he has been having trouble getting it up.'
'That is it!' Maximus rose to his feet. 'You, over here.' He took the wine jug from the serving girl and put it on the table. 'Do you want to come and watch?'
'Gods below, not in this life,' exclaimed Calgacus. 'I can think of nothing worse than watching your hairy arse going up and down like a harpist's elbow.' The assassin watched Maximus steer the girl to the stairs. It had been a bad moment when the Hibernian said he thought he was being watched. But he was only a barbarian – earlier, he had looked right at the assassin with no glimmer of recognition. Now the assassin knew for certain a time when the bodyguard would be away from the target. Now, he could strike.
The assassin signalled for a girl to come over, paid his bill and walked across the terrace, an unassuming man who drew no attention to himself. At the door, he looked back for a moment at the two still at the table. The ugly old man and the handsome youth sat in a companionable silence, all unsuspecting as they listened to the shrill shouts of the women and children unloading the boat and the heavy slop-slop-slop sounds of the wheels of the watermills on the far bank.
As he stepped outside, it started to rain. The assassin pulled up his hood and set off north up Mariners' Street. 'Magnificent.'
'Thank you very much,' said Ballista.
Julia laughed. 'Actually, I was referring to the political cunning of Cledonius.'
'That is rather deflating.' Naked, Ballista walked down the steps into the sunken bath and sat in the warm water. As the water stilled, he heard the storm outside, rain drummed on the roof and, somewhere in the house, the wind slammed a shutter or door. 'I thought you had told Isangrim's nurse to take him to visit the children of one of your endless cousins and had given the rest of the slaves the evening off so that we would be completely alone, so that you would have complete privacy to take care of your husband's needs.'
Julia was on the other side of the room, pouring drinks, putting some food on a plate. She smiled over her shoulder. 'I might force myself to do that later, but first I want to use this rare moment of privacy to make sure that my barbarian dominus understands the intrigues that surround his latest command.' She turned, the drinks and food temporarily forgotten.
'As ab Admissionibus, Cledonius cannot be away from the emperor. As he could not take this command on the Euphrates himself, he was determined that no other leading politician should hold it. Acilius Glabrio's candidate, Pomponius Bassus, may be a self-satisfied fool, but he is a great nobilis. Things were going badly for Cledonius when Macrianus spoke in favour of Pomponius Bassus, and all the creatures of the lame one fell over themselves to agree.'
Ballista watched as she paused, thinking. She was wearing a thin white cotton robe, held together with a sash. The lamps on the table behind her shone through the material. He could see the outline of her body. She was naked beneath the robe.
'Piso is a bankrupt; Macrianus owns him. There are many rumours, most of them disgusting, but no one knows for sure just what hold Macrianus has on Maeonius Astyanax.' She shook her head to dismiss such distasteful speculations. Ballista admired the way her breasts moved, full and heavy but firm.
Perhaps I really am the thick northern barbarian so many Romans take me for, an irrational slave to my appetites, thought Ballista. Julia was trying to explain something very serious, something which could affect the success of his mission, maybe his life itself, and all he was thinking about was her body. Ballista smiled. No, he may have spent half his life in the imperium, but he was not completely irrational. He could give his mind to two things at once, and she did look good.
'Then your Danubian friend Aurelian proposed Tacitus. That was no better in Cledonius' eyes. So he started talking about important men entrusted with big armies, about taking troops from the imperial field army. There was no need to say the word – after the last twenty years, treachery is on everyone's mind. So, when finally he proposes a less grand figure in the court – sorry, my love – with a smaller force, all the consilium rush to agree, and you, my Dominus, are back off to the wars.'
She picked up a large silver plate and two crystal goblets of watered wine and brought them over to Ballista. As she crouched next to him, the robe fell open, exposing her legs. She reached forward to pass him a drink. The robe was tight over her breasts. Ballista looked at the dark circles of her nipples. She smiled and walked round to the steps.
'Cledonius has got what he wants. No rival will lead this expedition. But he has alienated two groups of important men. So how does he win back their favour? At the next meeting of the consilium, he proposes that the two crucial men, Acilius Glabrio and Aurelian, are appointed legates. Magnificent, but now you are saddled with two ambitious young deputies who will be at loggerheads. And make no mistake: Gaius Acilius Glabrio hates you. He despises you for your origins, but he hates you for the death of his brother Marcus.'