They reached down and pulled the unconscious centurion up between them, slinging one of his arms over each of their shoulders.
‘Ready?’ Cato asked softly.
‘Yes.’
‘Let’s get away from here before Vitellius comes looking.’
They had gone no more than a few paces when a voice called out behind them.
‘What the hell are you doing?’
Cato looked round sharply and saw Vitellius standing at the corner of the junction, no more than ten feet away. Even though it was night, the sky was clear and the loom of the stars gave just enough light to reveal their faces to each other.
Vitellius looked confused for an instant and then his jaw sagged a fraction before he called out in astonishment, ‘You!’
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Macro was the first to break the spell. He threw Lurco’s arm off and spun round as he reached inside his cloak for the cosh. It was in his hand before he took his first pace towards Vitellius. The former tribune was too stunned to react, and further hampered by the wine he had consumed. Even so he ducked as Macro’s cosh swept through the air and the impetus sent it thudding into the side of the building. Macro’s knuckles cracked against the bricks and he let out a strangled cry of anger and pain as Vitellius stumbled back. Cato dropped Lurco and turned to help his friend but Macro charged on, thrusting his spare hand into Vitellius’s chest and sending him sprawling on to the paving stones.
‘Help!’ Vitellius cried out. ‘Help me!’
Macro fell on him, driving the wind from his lungs. At the same time he drew his bloodied cosh hand back and swung it viciously at the side of Vitellius’s head. The latter sensed the movement and jerked round, taking the blow on his shoulder.
‘Oh, sod it!’ Macro growled as he dropped the cosh, balled his hand into a fist and smashed it down directly into the other man’s cheek. Vitellius’s head struck the ground beneath and he went limp, his arms dropping untidily across his chest. Macro drew his hand back to strike again but saw that Vitellius had been knocked cold. Macro struggled up, breathing hard. Cato stood on the other side of the fallen man, staring down.
‘Great,’ said Macro. ‘Now what do we do?’
‘He’s seen us. He knows we’re in Rome. We can’t let him talk.’
‘So.’ Macro smiled cruelly, and drew his dagger out. ‘I’d always hoped it would come to this.’
‘What the hell are you doing?’ Cato grasped his arm.
Macro turned to him with a surprised expression. ‘We can get rid of him once and for all. You know what he’s done, to us and others. I can’t think of a man who is more deserving of a knife in the ribs and being left to bleed out in the gutter.’
‘No.’ Cato shook his head. ‘That’s not in our orders.’
‘Then it’s a bonus.’ Macro pulled his hand free.
‘No. Think about it, Macro. Witnesses saw him leave with Lurco. Narcissus is bound to hear of it. If he turns up dead, then Narcissus will know it was us.’
‘So? He’s no friend of Narcissus either.’
‘That doesn’t mean Narcissus won’t use it against us. You don’t go and kill the son of one of the most influential men in Rome without there being consequences.’
Macro was silent for a moment. ‘Then let’s just make him disappear. Drop him into the Great Sewer.’
‘What if his body is found and recognised?’
Macro held up his dagger. ‘I can make sure that he won’t be recognised.’
‘Put that away, Macro,’ Cato said firmly. ‘We have to take him with us.’
‘Bollocks,’ Macro grumbled. ‘Won’t be easy carrying ‘em both.’
‘We’ll manage. Keep watch while I see to them.’ Cato drew some thick twine and a few strips of cloth from the side bag under his cloak. He tied the hands of both men and then stuffed their mouths with the cloth. No one was about, and only the familiar sounds of the capital broke the silence. Cato helped lift Vitellius on to Macro’s shoulders and then lifted Lurco, who was more slightly built than his companion.
‘Ready?’ asked Cato. ‘Let’s go.’
It was at least half a mile to the safe house and they kept to the side streets as they struggled under their burdens. At one point Vitellius began to stir and Macro was obliged to crack his head against a wall to keep him quiet.
‘Don’t get a taste for that,’ Cato warned him as they continued up the slope of the hill into the Subura district. Just before they reached the safe house they ran into a rowdy group of young men and had to make up some story about their mates not being able to hold their drink. The two parties parted with good-humoured laughter. At last they staggered into the insula and dumped Vitellius in the vestibule before labouring upstairs with the centurion. Septimus opened the door for them, backing into the room which was illuminated by an oil lamp.
‘Good work.’ He nodded approvingly as he made to shut the door.
‘Wait,’ Cato gasped. ‘One more … to come.’
‘One more? What are you talking about?’
‘Explain later … Come on, Macro.’
When they returned with Vitellius, the imperial agent stared at the second body in surprise, and then shock as he recognised his features.
‘Are you mad? Good gods, do you know who this is? What the hell is he doing here?’
‘He was with Lurco … when we took him,’ Cato explained between breaths. ‘We didn’t have any choice.’
‘You didn’t have to bring him here. Why not leave him in the street?’
‘He recognised us.’
‘How?’
Cato exchanged a wary look with Macro before he replied. ‘I take it that Narcissus has not told you about our past history.’
‘Only what I needed to know,’ Septimus replied stiffly. ‘It is dangerous to possess too much knowledge in my line of work.’
‘In that case, it’s enough for you to know that we served with Vitellius in the Second Legion in Britannia. We didn’t see eye to eye on a few issues.’
Macro chuckled. ‘To put it fucking mildly.’
‘In any case,’ Cato continued, ‘we can’t afford to have him at liberty. He can link us to the disappearance of Lurco. Until our job is done, he has to be kept out of sight. He’ll have to go with Lurco.’
‘Or we could get rid of him,’ Macro suggested and then raised a hand to placate Cato as his friend glared at him. ‘Just trying to think through the options.’
Septimus sucked in an anxious breath. ‘Narcissus is not going to like this. Matters are already slipping out of our control. Vitellius must be dealt with.’
There was a groan and the three men turned to see that Vitellius was stirring.
‘He has to be blindfolded,’ Cato said quietly to Septimus. ‘He’s seen more than enough already. We don’t want him to identify you.’
‘Quite. Deal with it and put him in the other room while we talk to Lurco. We need to find out what he knows about the Liberators’ plot.’
Macro took out his dagger and cut a strip from Vitellius’s cloak which he wrapped twice round Vitellius’s face before tying it off securely. Then he put his hands under the former tribune’s shoulders and hauled him into the next room where he dumped him on the floor. The shock of the impact brought Vitellius to full consciousness and he mumbled into his gag as he writhed on the ground. Macro pressed his boot down on Vitellius’s shoulder.
‘Don’t move,’ he growled, ‘and we might let you live. Cause any trouble and I swear, by all the gods, that I’ll cut your throat. Understand?’
The other man stopped struggling and laid still, chest rising and falling. He nodded.
‘There’s a good patrician,’ Macro said, with contempt. He turned away and returned to the other room where Cato and Septimus had propped the other captive up against the wall. Septimus pulled up his hood to conceal his features. Lurco was moaning faintly and Cato reached forward to pull the gag from his mouth. Lurco retched and an acidic waft of breath struck Cato’s face. The centurion mumbled incoherently as his eyes flickered and Cato slapped him.