What could Caesar create, Primo thought, with Sebastianus's fabulous treasure from China?
Primo knew that once Nero received Quintus Publius's report on Sebastianus Gallus's unbelievably rich caravan, the emperor would demand to see it at once, and confiscate it, as was his right as patron of the mission to China.
Primo wished the expedition had been a miserable failure. That way, his master could languish in Babylon for eternity, for all Nero would care. Because now Primo was presented with a dilemma: Obey his emperor and betray his master, or serve his master and disobey the emperor. The first would result in his master's execution, the second, his own. Primo's mouth filled with a bitter taste. He did not like this spy business. Even though he had nothing negative to report on Sebastianus, he still felt like a traitor.
"My master made many new alliances for Rome with foreign kingdoms," Primo reminded him, hoping to placate the bilious ambassador, and thinking of the report Quintus was going to dispatch to Nero by swift imperial courier. "Many of those backward tribes are so primitive, all one has to do is eat their bread, or in the farther east, share their rice, and the friendship is sealed." He did not add: the poor fools pressed their greasy thumbs to whatever document Sebastianus placed before them, and grinned with self-satisfaction to think of themselves as the equal of the greatest ruler on earth. They do not yet know of the pompous emissaries who will soon be paying visits, informing them of their duty to pay to Rome a ten percent levy on all goods that pass through their customs houses.
Primo rubbed his scarred nose. It was one of many cicatrices that decorated his soldier's body, each a memento from a long-ago battle. Primo knew he was an oddity himself, like the Chinese concubines, for it was unusual that a veteran of foreign campaigns should live to such an age. But although he was now sixty and had lost most of his hair, he still had all his teeth and was robust.
"Where did you say your master was?" Publius barked.
"On business in the city," Primo said.
Although the word treason had not been spoken, it hung in the air all the same. Everyone knew about Nero's marriage, two years prior, to a scheming spider named Poppaea Sabina, a greedy and ambitious woman with an insatiable appetite for amusements. It could be no coincidence that shortly after, Nero revived the ancient laws governing treason in order to fill the Great Circus with entertaining executions. Men were being arrested on the flimsiest of invented crimes, and thrown to lions in the arena.
Could his master's delay in Babylon be considered treasonous? After all, Sebastianus carried goods that were the personal property of Emperor Nero. He was duty-bound to get that property to Rome as quickly as possible. And yet he had tarried in Babylon. Because of a woman!
"Is there anything you wish me to report to my master?" Primo asked.
"Your master is not the only reason I sent for you," Quintus said as he reached inside the folds of his toga. He paused to study Primo's disfigured face. "Are you a loyal citizen, Primo Fidus?"
Primo was taken aback to hear his real name spoken out loud. How had Quintus found it out? And his use of it now gave Primo a strange chill. "I am a loyal citizen and a loyal soldier. I place my honor before my life."
Quintus produced a scroll bearing the clay seal of Caesar himself. "These are your new orders. They are secret. Keep that in mind."
Primo looked warily at the scroll. "New orders?" he said.
"This document grants you the authority, Primo Fidus, to take charge of the caravan, to arrest Sebastianus Gallus, hold him in military custody, and bring him to Rome for trial."
"Arrest him! On what charges?" Primo asked, already knowing, and dreading the answer.
"Treason," Quintus said crisply. "All goods contained in the Gallus caravan are the property of the emperor of Rome. By withholding those goods from Caesar, your master is in effect stealing, which is a crime of treason." He slapped the scroll against Primo's broad chest. "If you do not convince your master to depart Babylon at once, then pray that his execution is a swift one."
Primo looked at the scroll as if it were a scorpion.
Arrest Sebastianus! By Mithras, how was he going to do that?
Cold sweat sprouted between his shoulder blades. Since arriving in Babylon, Primo had heard strange, dark rumors about Emperor Nero, his impulsiveness, his suspected insanity. Especially his ruthlessness. That he killed messengers bearing bad news. But what would happen if Primo did not report his master's disloyalty and Nero found out? Primo shuddered to think. Even a hardened old soldier like himself grew faint at the thought of the grisly ways some men were put to death in the Great Circus. And what of Sebastianus? Would Primo's report result in so drastic an action as execution?
Primo decided he must prepare a response should the emperor demand to know why Gallus had tarried so long in Babylon. Primo would declare: "Oh mighty Caesar, my master was engaged in complex commerce in order to bind Babylon more closely to Rome, and to show those unworthy foreigners the advantage of being financially and economically bound to Rome—in fact, glorious Caesar, to demonstrate the lowly Babylonians' great luck to have Caesar look favorably upon them!"
It was a long speech for an old soldier, but Primo would practice it from here to the imperial audience chamber and make himself sound as convincing as possible.
He scratched his chest and felt, beneath his white tunic, the lucky arrowhead he had put on a string to wear beneath his clothes. The German arrowhead that had missed his heart by a hair. And Primo was struck by inspiration. "Perhaps the noble Publius would honor my master by receiving one of the Chinese treasures as a gift?"
The Roman wrinkled his nose. "You wouldn't be attempting to bribe me would you, Primo Fidus? I could have you skinned alive. Find your master! Tell him he is under imperial orders to get his caravan to Rome in the quickest order. I must travel to Magna today and meet with the queen. I will return in a month's time. I expect to see no sign of Sebastianus Gallus and his caravan here in Babylon!"
35
I ONLY HAVE A FEW things to collect," Ulrika said as she led Sebastianus down a narrow, winding alley in the city, toward the house she shared with a seamstress. "I have learned to travel light."
They entered a wider street, where a marketplace stood in the shadow of the massive Hall of Justice—a towering ziggurat that rose in terraces splendidly landscaped with trees and shrubs and cascading vines. Here vendors hawked garlic and leeks, onions and beans. Sellers of bread and cheese called out their prices, while merchants shouted the merits of their various wines.
Suddenly they heard trumpets blare at the end of the street. A voice called, "Make way! Make way in the name of the great god Marduk!"