Ovid

'Someone? Like who?'

'Our original stool-pigeon, of course. Junius Silanus.'

'That is nonsense! You told me that Augustus rewarded Silanus. Would he have done that if the man had doublecrossed him?'

'Sure he would. Even if it meant sacrificing Julia. He didn't have any choice. He had to cut himself off from the conspiracy completely, which meant siding with the guy who betrayed it. Maybe Silanus's silence was part of the deal.'

Perilla had turned onto her side.

'Look, I'm tired and this is complicated,' she said. 'Perhaps it'll all sound better in the morning.'

I ignored her. 'There's another thing. We already have a German connection. The dead guy with the tattoo on his wrist served in a German legion.'

'Tell me tomorrow,' she murmured.

'But in that case who sent him and his mates, and why? Livia? The Wart? Someone else?'

There was no answer; and when I looked Perilla was asleep.

Varus to Himself

Arminius and I have kept in touch, of course, through Ceionius's good offices. I was right to use him. The man is a natural conspirator. Our partnership has been a profitable one for all parties: for Arminius, for myself and, potentially, for Rome. Under the guise of fulfilling my military obligations I have managed in this campaigning season to draw the teeth of his private enemies among the German chieftains; with the result that he is well on his way to the pre-eminence which is our aim.

The last stage of the plan is the most difficult of all. The first part is over. As agreed, I have allowed myself and my army to be drawn off our line of march towards the Teutoburg. On the fringes of the forest, Arminius will attack us in full force. I will order a withdrawal, and Arminius will claim to have inflicted a defeat and proved himself to his allies beyond a doubt. My army will be intact, and I will lead it back to the Rhine. The Germans will give the credit to Arminius and spill more beer at the victory feast than they did blood in the battle. Germans love a winner, and a Roman 'defeat', no matter how token, will do more to unite the tribes under Arminius's aegis than a hundred speeches.

Naturally there will be questions asked in Rome. My defence will be unanswerable: that I reassessed the situation and the risks and decided reluctantly to abandon the advance. I will be criticised, but not overly blamed. Then I will withdraw quietly from public life (my old carcass, after all, can have very few years left in it) and enjoy the rewards of a career tarnished only slightly at its close. Arminius's gold will be a great solace to me in my misfortune. I wish him well, and every success.

Tomorrow we should enter the Teutoburg proper. My scouts report no hostile forces so far, yet the 'battle' cannot be far off — half a day's march, at most. It cannot come too soon for me — the weather is worsening and these German forests are terrible places, even when one does not believe in what superstitious natives call the Waldgespenst. Let us hope that Arminius does not keep us waiting long.

The night is cold, and I can hear the rain battering on the roof and walls of my tent. I have told Agron to warm me some wine. Perhaps it will help me sleep.

27

When I got home next morning there was a slave kicking his heels outside my front door.

'Master wants to see you,' he said.

I groaned. After last night I'd been looking forward to a quiet day loafing in the garden followed by another few dozen Baian oysters. 'This master of yours got a name?'

'Sure. Scylax.'

I felt the first prickle of excitement. 'He say what it was about?'

'Nah.'

I recognised the guy now: the big Spaniard who kept the sand raked in Scylax's exercise yard. 'You didn't think of telling my slave Bathyllus, I suppose? He knew where I was.'

The sarcasm bounced off like dried chickpeas from a breastplate. The guy didn't even blink.

'Master said I was to see you personal,' he said. 'You weren't in, so I waited. Till you were in, like.'

This boy was wasted raking sand. I could've used him as a doorstop.

'Okay, sunshine,' I said. 'Give me a chance to fetch the lads and I'll be right with you.'

Scylax was binding a new grip on a wooden training sword when we walked in. His eyes shifted from me to my four Gauls and I saw them widen. Three of the lads looked pretty chewed, but they were happy as hell after their scrap and I hadn't had the heart to trade them in for new models.

'Daphnis found you all right, then,' he said.

'Daphnis?'

Scylax shrugged. 'Not my fault. The poor bastard had the name when I bought him.' He laid the sword aside. 'I've got the information you wanted.'

I could feel my heart speeding up. 'You've found Big Fritz?'

'Yeah. Pure fluke. His name's Agron and he's got a metalsmith's shop in the Subura.'

'Whereabouts in the Subura?'

'Let me get my boots on and I'll take you.'

I shook my head. 'Oh, no. I'm grateful, believe me, but this is my business. I'll take care of things from here on in myself.'

'No chance.' Scylax stood up. In his bare feet he was even shorter than usual. 'I've found your boy for you. Now I want a piece of the action. Or at least an explanation.'

'Look, Scylax, don't crowd me, okay? I'll tell you later. Promise.'

'Screw your later.' He stood square in front of me like a concrete block. 'Come on, Corvinus. You owe me. And whatever trouble you're in is getting worse. So now tell me I'm wrong.'

'Things're hotting up, yeah,' I said reluctantly.

'Another fight?'

'Just a titchy one.'

'Titchy one, hell.' Scylax's slabwood face split in a grin and he nodded towards the Sunshine Boys. 'It'd only take me a month to turn any one of these marble-crushers into a first rate gladiator. That's a four-man army you've got there, boy, and it still gets dented. Who were the opposition? Praetorians?'

'Near enough.' I hesitated, wondering how little I could get away with. 'You ever heard of a gang of legionaries turning bandit?'

Scylax's jaw dropped. 'You got mugged by legionaries?'

'Only one of them qualified for sure that I know of. But the rest had regular army stamped all over them.'

'Fuck!' He spat onto the bare boards at his feet. 'How many?'

'A dozen. Maybe more. I didn't count.'

'No wonder you got creased.' He was staring at me. 'You're lucky to be alive, friend.'

'We had help. A squad of Rome's finest who happened to be passing and needed the exercise.' I told him the story. 'So what's your explanation?'

'You get them sometimes. Men who've been drummed out. Thieves. Cowards. Runners. But not that many, not in Italy, and not bunched together in dozens.' He paused. 'Not freelance, anyway.'

'That's what I thought.'

'You got someone's back up recently? Someone bigger even than you are, with military connections?'

'I might've done. Look, Scylax, I'm not holding out on you but I don't want you involved.'

'Screw that.' Scylax had picked up a pair of thick hobnail soldier's boots and was putting them on. 'From what you tell me this Agron guy could be trouble, private army or not. And I'm not having my patron carried home on a board for nobody. Okay?'

'Okay.' I conceded defeat. Not that I had much option. 'Suit yourself. Only if you find in the near future that you and your balls have parted company don't say I didn't warn you.'

He grinned, and we set off for the Subura.

We were walking along Tuscan Road, the Sunshine Boys doing their battering-ram routine with the crowds so we could actually move in a straight line at a decent speed. Mind you we'd've been okay even without the lads. No one crowds Scylax.