The first stopped to let the second catch up and Pullus recognized him: Rufus!
‘Rufus!’ he yelled as loudly as he could. ‘Rufus!’
The horseman jumped to the ground and ran up to him. ‘Pulle! I knew we’d run into you!’ He hugged the boy, realizing he could count every rib and vertebra, scrawny as he was.
The second horseman rode up as welclass="underline" Vibius. He showed signs of a violent altercation and his horse seemed exhausted. He must have kept up a gallop for a very long stretch indeed.
‘Why are the two of you together?’ asked Pullus.
‘Yesterday morning,’ replied Vibius, ‘as I was approaching the fifth mansio, two armed men tried to stop me. I fought back but the two of them together were too much for me. I got away and raced off as fast as I could until I lost them. At that point, I decided to find Rufus. We always have a contingency plan and a second meeting point. But let me tell you, you look terrible, boy! Cover up or you’ll catch your death!’
He took a dry blanket from his bag and tossed it over the boy’s shoulders. Pullus regained a little colour, and a little voice.
‘We received two messages up at the station. The first was to intercept two speculatores at any cost. I wondered whether it might be the two of you. But then we got a second message, last night, which began with the army code and cancelled the first order. We couldn’t answer because of the bad weather, but I took off right away and didn’t stop until I got here. A messenger set off with the counter-order this morning, so you shouldn’t have any problems.’
‘I always knew we could count on you,’ said Rufus. ‘But who do you think gave the counter-order?’
‘I don’t know. The commander didn’t give me time to ask.’ Then he added, ‘What will you do now?’
Vibius turned to his comrade. ‘You go on. I’ll leave you my horse. He’ll recover quickly if he’s not carrying a rider. You can alternate the two and cover a greater distance.’
Rufus tied the second horse to the harness of his own as Vibius took the provisions satchel and the flask. They said goodbye.
‘Who knows, maybe none of this will have been necessary,’ said Vibius.
‘That’s what I’m hoping,’ replied Rufus.
‘Good luck, my friend.’
‘Good luck to the two of you! Be careful.’
‘No one will notice a couple of men on foot,’ replied Pullus with a tired smile.
Rufus jumped on to his horse and took off, pulling along the riderless horse of his comrade. Meanwhile, Vibius and Pullus set off down another road.
Caupona Fabulli ad flumen Tiberim, pridie Id. Mart., hora nona
Fabullus’s Inn at the Tiber River, 14 March, two p.m.
Publius Sextius recognized the inn from a distance and he stopped. The weather had got better but was not stable and from the way the sky was looking he guessed it would worsen again that night. He had to get as close as possible to his destination so as not to lose another day. But would it make a difference, one day more or less? His long experience on the battlefields and roads of the empire had taught him that very often a mere hour gained or lost could indeed decide the outcome of a battle or even of a war. In any case, it was best to arrive early to whatever event destiny had prepared for you. If the event was favourable, nothing would change. If it was unfavourable — or catastrophic — there might be time to prevent it from happening, or at least limit the damage.
What he desired most keenly was to stretch out on a bed and relax limbs tormented by the strain of endless riding. Then to eat something and drink a cup of strong red wine. But he decided to lie down on the ground under the shelter of an ancient olive tree, to eat a piece of cheese and soften a chunk of dry bread with water. Better this than risk another unpleasant encounter after everything that had already happened to him.
He slept as he was used to sleeping in these circumstances, without ever drifting into unconsciousness and without losing the sense of time passing. He had left his horse free to graze, certain it would not wander off. When he felt a little stronger, he called the horse with a whistle and started off again.
He headed in the same direction for a long while, avoiding places where too many people were to be found, until he was forced to return to the Via Cassia so as to be sure to find a way to cross the water. One could always count on a bridge of stone, at least; they never collapsed.
The terrain was very rough and he couldn’t stray too far from the road, although he mostly stayed on the loose-surfaced track at the side of the stone pavement. It was much faster that way and he felt that he was making up for lost time. Fortune seemed to be smiling on him now, he thought, as he managed to change his horse at a farm near Sutri without drawing attention to himself. The breeder accepted the difference in price between the horse Publius Sextius was leaving and the one he was buying, and he was free to set off once again at a fast pace. He was bound for the banks of the Tiber, beyond the Via Cassia, where he’d be able to board a ship at last.
He could feel that his mission was drawing to an end. He would soon be able to relay his message and to report directly to Caesar.
But all at once, as the sun was about to sink behind the hills, a horseman appeared in the middle of the road, barring his way. In his hand he held a drawn sword.
At first he thought of turning around, but two things stopped him. One, he’d never done such a thing in his whole life; he’d never turned tail. And two, he was curious. Curious to see who dared to take on Publius Sextius alone. Traitor or foe, whichever he was, perhaps he deserved this confrontation.
He slowed his horse to a walk, drew his own sword and advanced down the middle of the road. The other man did the same. When he was about fifty feet away, Publius halted his horse and spoke first.
‘Who are you? What do you want?’
‘What do you care who I am when you are about to die?’
‘Pure curiosity.’
His adversary had stopped as well. ‘My name is Sergius Quintilianus. Does that tell you anything?’
His left hand pulled firmly at the bit, as his horse was snorting and stamping at the sight of the other stallion opposing him. The horseman rode forward until he was very close.
‘Pharsalus,’ he added. ‘Do you remember now?’
Publius recognized him. ‘Yes,’ he replied, ‘I do. I spared your life on the battlefield.’
‘After having killed my son, who stood before you defending his wounded father.’
‘You know what it’s like in the heat of the battle, man. There’s no time to make distinctions. When I realized what had happened, I held back. Let me go on my way now. We all have our own nightmares.’
‘You should have killed me as well. You don’t heal from a wound like that. By sparing my life you doubly humiliated me.’
‘You could have killed yourself. You had a weapon.’
‘I was about to do just that, Publius Sextius, but in the brief time I took to reflect, my hatred welled up over all else. I decided to live so I could find you and kill you. After such a long time, fortune has made the wait worth my while.’
He pointed westward at the sun, which was nearly touching the line of the hills. ‘Before it drops below the horizon, your blood will have placated the manes of my dead boy.’
‘I must reach Rome. If you try to prevent me, I’ll have to kill you.’