The alley was narrow and stank of fish and decaying rubbish. Stepping to either side of the gutter that ran down the middle, Castus turned the corner at the bottom and saw the boy dodging out through one of the low arches in the harbour wall. Three bored soldiers on guard, but they weren’t keeping a close watch on anyone leaving, and gave Castus only the slightest scrutiny as he passed them.
Beyond the arch the street led between the crumbling brickwork of a pair of warehouses built against the wall, then out onto the open quayside. For a moment Castus paused to look across the water at the mass of anchored shipping in the harbour, the masts and rigging black and spidery against the evening sky. Then he glanced to his right and saw the boy waving to him from along the quayside. The warehouses here were fronted by wine shops and eating houses, sailors and off-duty soldiers crowding the benches outside. The cobbles were slick and greasy underfoot.
Castus followed the boy up the quay and saw him stop before the open front of one of the taverns towards the end of the row. A man stepped out onto the quay, glanced at Castus and then tossed a coin; the boy caught it and darted away. It was Flaccianus, Castus realised as he approached. And, stepping from the tavern behind him, the hulking bodyguard Glaucus.
For a moment Castus stood still, his palm closing around the hilt of the sword beneath his cloak. Flaccianus gave him a quick nod and a smile, jerked his thumb towards the interior of the tavern, then turned and moved away down the quay with his bodyguard swaggering after him.
Castus took a long deep breath, his senses alert for danger. The tavern looked innocuous: to the side of the entrance was a smoking griddle, strips of fish blackening over the glowing charcoal. The word ‘TRITON’ was painted on the cracked plaster above the wide doorway, and a crude black and white mosaic covering the threshold showed a plump sea god cramming his mouth with fish. Castus moved closer, into the spit and smoke of the grill, and stared into the dark throat of the tavern. There were figures hunched over tables in the gloom. A last quick glance up and down the quayside, and Castus stepped inside.
Once his eyes had adjusted he found Nigrinus quickly enough; he was only man sitting by himself, at a small round table in a booth off the main room. On the table was a jug of wine, three clay cups and a wooden platter of food.
‘Grilled squid,’ the notary said, gesturing to the platter as Castus sat down. ‘Try some. They cook it with a lot of spice here. Flaccianus did not care for it.’
‘I don’t care much for him,’ Castus said. ‘Or his friends.’
‘Ah, yes,’ Nigrinus said. ‘Your last meeting with them was rather unfortunate. We must aim to avoid any further such misunderstandings.’
Castus tightened his jaw and exhaled slowly through his nose. No, he thought, I won’t forgive you that easily. I won’t forgive you at all. He poured himself a cup of wine, concentrating on keeping his hand steady and not letting his anger show.
‘You wanted me for something?’ he said.
‘I do,’ the notary replied. The casual tone had drained from his voice now. When Castus glanced up he saw that the man’s face, usually so bland and inscrutable, was lined and hollowed by fatigue. He felt a pang of satisfaction, although he knew it was not a good sign.
‘You’ve been surveying the walls, the defences,’ Nigrinus said quietly. Castus nodded. No surprise that the notary had been informed of his activities. ‘What do you think?’ Nigrinus asked. ‘Would they stand a siege?’
Castus sipped the thin sour wine, then peered around the room behind him. Darkness cloaked them, and the noise of the men talking around the fish-grill covered their conversation. Nobody was close enough to hear what they were saying.
‘Probably,’ he said. ‘The walls are sound, the gates too. There are men enough to man the ramparts. There are no engines, no ballistae, but Constantine doesn’t have any either.’
Nigrinus nodded. ‘And the troops, do they seem loyal to… our friend?’
‘Hard to say. They’ve been paid, they’ve got good billets, and they’re in a strong position. No reason they shouldn’t hold it. I hear Constantine’s men are already on half-rations.’
‘Naturally, I hear the same,’ Nigrinus said with a creased grimace. ‘I’m not interested in what you’ve heard, soldier. I want to know what you’ve seen. Could the city be taken by assault?’
‘Of course it could,’ Castus told him, refusing to rise to the goad. ‘But it would be hard. Far better to blockade the place and wait for treachery from within.’
Nigrinus narrowed his lips, opened his mouth and closed it again. His thinking face, Castus guessed. He felt a knot of irritation twist in his gut.
‘What are you planning?’ he hissed, leaning closer over the table. ‘Tell me now… If you want me to kill him…’
‘No!’ the notary exclaimed, raising a finger. ‘Nothing like that! And you must restrain your barbarian friend too… No, if anything of that sort occurred it would seem an act of private revenge, or the deed of a madman. Only the rightful emperor can judge, only he can pass sentence. This must be seen to happen, do you understand?’
Oh yes, Castus thought as he sat back from the table. He understood very well what the notary was saying. He had the brief sickening intuition that this too had been planned, this too was part of the game.
‘Then what?’ he said. ‘We just wait?’
‘Not for too long. The enemy has agents in Constantine’s camp. If they sense it could be accomplished, they will murder him. Then Maximian will be the only man with imperial authority…’
‘Infernal gods,’ Castus said under his breath. ‘You know this?’
‘I believe it. Retreating this far south was not entirely accidental. Constantine is far from his base, far from the bulk of his army and the provinces most loyal to him. Here we are closer to Italy, and to Maxentius… If the emperor was struck down by somebody close to him…’
‘But it was you who warned him. You sent him the message, and that was how he was able to march south so soon.’
‘Not I,’ the notary said. ‘Since I left Treveris I’ve had no contact with the imperial staff. I confess I have no idea how Constantine managed to act so quickly. Perhaps indeed the gods send him messages in dreams… But he is in danger here all the same.’
Castus nodded. ‘Then whatever we do has to happen soon,’ he said.
‘I’ve been working, these past days,’ the notary said. ‘Probing. Trying to determine who among the usurper’s people is weakest, who might betray him. So far I have discovered little. But when I do – and be certain I will – then I may need you to act. Are you ready?’
‘Always.’ A thought struck Castus. He glanced around the smoky tavern again, then looked back at the notary. ‘What about the emperor’s wife, Fausta? Is she loyal to her father?’
He caught Nigrinus’s brief flicker of a smile. ‘Perhaps you might know more about that than I?’ the notary said. For the first time he appeared genuinely amused.
‘That was you, then, last autumn? Your plan?’
‘Oh, come!’ Nigrinus said, feigning an expression of pique. ‘Surely you don’t think I could have arranged anything as crude, as… sordid? Why would I?’
‘But you knew about it.’
‘I discovered traces of it, afterwards. I believe Gorgonius was behind it. You may kill him, by all means, if you get a chance. As for the nobilissima femina: she is a woman, and young. Barely more than a child. I doubt she has wits enough to rebel against her father. And if she did, what could she accomplish?’
Maybe so, Castus thought. A sense of hopeless despair rose through him. Truly they were all at the mercy of the gods. He drank more wine.