What could they be discussing at such great lengths? Was it possible they were old acquaintances? Had they known each other prior to the war?
But Libo’s attention was drawn away from these thoughts when the knight moved closer to Antony to whisper something in Antony’s ear. He had moved just enough to yield a clear path between the Faun and Antony. As much as Libo desperately wished to give the signal and send the missile on its deadly flight to end the life of the despicable traitor, he hesitated. There was something going on here, and he wanted to know more. Postumus’s behavior was unsettling to Libo. It went beyond play-acting. In fact, it was quite the opposite. The senator appeared much too natural in his discourse, his demeanor too comfortable, like that of the two aides who now returned still talking in low tones.
The next moment, the opportunity had passed. The knight had returned to his former position, and the shot was again obstructed.
“It appears to be the agreed upon sum, my lord,” Flavius reported to senator with a cunning glance.
“Excellent!” Postumus replied, his face adorned with the first genuine smile Libo had ever seen there.
“You do realize, my old friend,” Antony butted in, “the gold remains with me until I have been instated as commander of the Optimates forces, and Pompey deposed?”
“I do not have such a decree in my hand,” Postumus stated matter-of-factly. “If I did, you would surely suspect it to be a fabrication. I do, however, have this, bearing the Raven’s own mark.”
Postumus took a small scroll from his belt and handed it to Antony’s aide, who in turn gave it to Antony.
“And what in Juno’s arse is this?” Antony held the document between two fingers as if it reeked.
“A pledge, in writing, from the Raven, vowing that you will be given command of the armies, and that such a pronouncement will be made, once this gold arrives safely in Corcyra.”
Antony laughed out loud, but then stopped quite abruptly, his eyes turning sinister as they glared back at Postumus. “Never! Not one ounce. Not one sesterces will you have, until such a decree is in my hand and I receive word from my own trusted agents in Epirus that Pompey’s army has been placed under my command. Those are my conditions, Senator! Now drag your aged carcass back aboard your ship, and take that word to your master. And tell him, next time, if he wishes for more than the severed heads of his emissaries to return, then he had better not extend such an insulting offer!”
“Be careful, Antony,” the senator said evenly. “Consider well your situation. The Rhodian fleet has been destroyed. Libo’s fleet blocks your passage. You cannot combine with Caesar. You sit in Italy with four legions amongst a populous that is, at best, docile, if not prepared to take up arms against you should Pompey prevail in the coming battle. Should you somehow manage to cross the sea and join with Caesar, Pompey will still outnumber you both in short order. And what would you gain by such an act? The honor of being a lap dog to Caesar? Hear me, Antony. I am offering you the dictatorship, to be the face behind the Raven, given free reign over the empire, your power and authority nearly absolute.”
“Nearly?”
“There will, of course, be reasonable limits established, for you will still ultimately answer to the Raven. But, he will remain in the shadows. For all intents and purposes, you will be the first man in Rome. It will all be very official and made legal by an arranged vote of the assemblies. You will be perceived as the savior of Rome, the man who healed our fractured empire and united it once again.”
“I still hear nothing but promises, Senator,” Antony said sourly.
“We, of course, anticipated your reluctance to part with the gold before such an order is officially announced. Thus, I am prepared to be your guest until that time arrives.”
“My hostage?”
“If that is how you wish to phrase it. My aide, Flavius, will remain with the gold and see that it reaches Corcyra safely. My master will then arrange for the Senate to issue a decree making you imperator over all Optimates armies.”
Antony’s face softened. “Perhaps I might be persuaded, but let me be absolutely clear, Postumus. Should that decree not reach my ears by week’s end, you will die a most horrible death.”
“I am well acquainted with your reputation for brutality. Given that, and knowing that you and I have never seen eye-to-eye, is it not further proof that I speak the truth? Would I place myself at your mercy, if I did not believe everything will transpire just as I have promised?”
“So, you would be my guest,” Antony said to himself, rubbing his chin and leaning in to listen to the whispers of his aide.
“Your guest,” Postumus completed his thought, “and an ambassador of sorts, to represent the Raven on your inner council.”
“Sounds smothering,” Antony said cynically.
“Then how does this sound? Once you are instated as the commander of the Optimates armies, your first duty will be to march your legions to Rome, where you will assert supreme control. When Caesar’s army hears of this, they will desert in droves, and Caesar will be hunted down and killed like a common outlaw. Pompey will be your subordinate, as will all other commanders in the field. The exiled Senate will return to Rome, minus a few that will meet with tragic accidents on the long journey from Thessalonica. Then you, Antony – the father of a new Rome – will convene a new Senate stocked afresh with the clientele of the Raven and your own staunchest supporters…”
Libo’s stomach turned in revulsion while Postumus explained the elaborate plan. The senator was not merely concocting a story to convince Antony to part with the treasury money. This was real. As the scheme grew more and more intricate, and terrifyingly made logical sense, Libo became more and more certain of it. This was what Postumus had intended all along. He was, indeed, an agent of the Raven, and was carrying on the plan his master had conceived and now appeared to be close to successful completion. Libo half wanted to draw his sword and plant it in the senator’s gut before the traitor could say another word, but he refrained, content in the knowledge that once Antony lay dead in the sand, the senator’s plan would be foiled. He was sure now, more than ever, that he was doing the right thing, the noble thing, for how could he concern himself with honor when dealing with such vermin as these?
It then occurred to him that Postumus would certainly have a plan for him, too. Did an assassin’s blade await him aboard the flagship? Surely it must, should he in any way obstruct the conveyance of the gold to Corcyra. Postumus knew he would never go along with such a scheme. The problem was Antony’s knight, who still stood in the path between Antony and the bireme. Should he chance it? Should he simply wipe his brow now, and let the fates decide – for he would never allow Postumus to leave with Antony. Both traitors must not leave this island alive. He had to count on the centurion to take care of Antony, then it would be his turn to act. Was Flavius close enough to interfere before Libo could drive his blade into Postumus’s back?
Antony was glancing at all three of them as he listened to his rotund aide talking in his ear. When the aide finished, Antony nodded and stepped forward, extending his right hand.
“Perhaps you and I got off to a poor start, my dear Postumus.” Antony’s demeanor had changed considerably. There was trust and acceptance in the warm smile that now crossed his face. “I believe we have come to an agreement. Shall we press hands on the bargain?”
The two men stepped toward each other to shake hands. This was the moment, Libo thought. Antony had moved in front of the knight, and now stood unobstructed. He was in the clear.