The Emperor's Knives (22 page)

‘
Victory to the Dog Eaters!
’

The two men hurried away into the darkness pursued by the shouts of the dead gang leader’s bodyguards.

5

‘Fuck me, look at that lot! Word must have got around!’

An older soldier among the volunteer barbers snorted at his comrade’s observation.

‘Of course word got a-fucking round, you daft bastard, that cock Morban’s only offered another day of cheap haircuts.’

A queue of men had already formed outside the shop, and as Morban unlocked the door he had to put out a beefy arm to hold back the throng as his men filed inside.

‘Just a moment, gentlemen, the lads’ll be ready to get cutting shortly!’ Holding up a hand to indicate that the man at the head of the queue should stay where he was, he ducked back into the shop, grinning at his men as they readied themselves for work. ‘Now can you see why I set the price low? There’s barbers all over the Aventine standing wondering where all their customers have gone, while we’ve got as much work as we can cope with and more. You boys are going to make a decent purse today, just as long as you can keep up with the demand, so no fucking about with the finer points, just get the punters neat and tidy, get them out of the door and put the next arse on your seat.’

He turned back to the door, gesturing to the first customer with a beaming smile.

‘Come along in, sir, come and get your hair barbered in the latest style for next to nothing!’

Once his men were hard at work, he wandered off to buy a small pie from the baker two doors down, but before he’d made half a dozen paces he found himself in the middle of a small knot of traders, all eager to make his acquaintance. The baker himself took the surprised soldier by the arm, clapping him on the back with a beaming smile of welcome.

‘It’s wonderful to have you here! My business has been excellent this morning, with all these men waiting for a haircut and fancying a bite to eat with the money they’re saving by coming to your shop!’

The other shopkeepers agreed noisily, and Morban enjoyed the unfamiliar feeling of basking in their approbation until, one by one, they drifted away with promises of friendship and offers to provide any help he might need in the future. At length only one man was left, the barbers shop’s next-door neighbour, a quiet man who introduced himself as Albanus and who sold pots made, he told Morban, by his wife and son in the back room. The potter fixed him with a knowing look.

‘I don’t sleep too well, and I sometimes sit in the window up there and watch the street.’ He pointed up at the room above the shop. ‘It’s not as if I have anything else to do. I saw your lads with the spades carrying in what looked suspiciously like weapons last night, when they were finished digging out that new cellar of yours. None of my business, mind you, and I won’t go blabbing, but you know there’s a death penalty for being caught in possession of anything longer than a kitchen knife in the city?’

Morban shrugged, warming to the man but unwilling to trust him just yet, and the potter laughed dryly.

‘Don’t blame you for keeping silent. No matter, you’re good for business and I ain’t the squealing kind. One more thing though, have you had a visit from One Eyed Maximus yet?’

He laughed at Morban’s mystified look.

‘You will soon enough then, now that you’ve got so many customers making so much noise. He’ll be along for his share right enough.’

‘
His
share?’

‘Aye, ten per cent if he likes you, more if not. I always give him a smile and make out how pleased I am to have someone watching over my business, even though I doubt he’d lift a finger if I was being robbed, and that way he just taxes me at the standard rate.’

Morban mused for a moment, rubbing his chin.

‘Best not to call him a thieving bastard then?’

Albanus laughed again, and winked at him.

‘Best not. Not unless you want to be bringing those swords up out of the cellar.’

‘You’ll have to make out that you’re Pilinius’s guests, and avoid going anywhere near the man himself for fear of being exposed. No doubt he’ll have other things on his mind …’

With predictable punctuality, Excingus had made his way to the Tungrian barracks on the Ostian road the next morning, arriving soon after the troops had been sent to their usual training session. He’d been less interested in the details of the gang leader’s demise, however, than in alerting them to the prospect of an opportunity to bring retribution to the third man on their death list. Reminding them of the senator’s grisly reputation for playing bloody and repulsive games with the survivors of the households destroyed by the Knives, he’d started to lay out the details only to find himself interrupted by Scaurus.

‘You told us before that it was going to be nigh on impossible for us to get into one of Pilinius’s parties, and now you’re talking about it as if we’re going to stroll in?’

The former grain officer smiled tightly, holding up a small leather pouch which Julius took from him and emptied onto a spade-like palm. A pair of square metal tokens fell from the bag, unremarkable silver plaques ornamented with a design too intricate to be discerned at first glance.

‘What are they?’

‘They are your tickets, Tribune, to enter the grounds and house of Senator Tiberius Asinius Pilinius. Tonight, for one night only, you have the opportunity to witness the sort of games that the senator and his friends like to get up to in private and, if you’re lucky, to deal out whatever justice to him you think fitting.’ He raised a warning finger. ‘Although you’ll have to be very good indeed to achieve that laudable aim and get out unharmed. The senator takes no risks with his safety, especially when his closest and most powerful friends come out to play, so you’ll be searched most comprehensively before being allowed to enter the grounds. Any weaponry you use will therefore have to be taken from the guards.’

‘I see.’

Scaurus took one of the tokens from Julius, initially frowning at it as he tried to work out exactly what the design that adorned the silver surface represented, then recoiling with a grimace as he worked it out. He tossed it to Marcus, who looked down and momentarily closed his eyes as he made the same realisation.

‘So exactly how did you come by these tickets to enter the senator’s night of debauchery?’

Excingus’s face took on the same obdurate look he’d assumed the last time they’d asked him to reveal his sources, but before he could speak, Scaurus unleashed Marcus with a twitch of his head towards the informant, and the young Roman was across the room and at his throat, pushing him back against the building’s wooden wall with a strength that Excingus had not suspected until it was too late. Scaurus and Julius stepped in close behind him, each of them regarding him dispassionately.

‘You’re not under Senator Sigilis’s protection now, Informant, and I’m closer than you might suspect to turning you over to the delicate mercies of this rather frustrated centurion. You’ll recall that he has a strong motivation to treat you with an equal lack of compassion to that you displayed towards his pregnant wife? So I suggest that you unlock that head full of secrets just a little, and be as frank as you can possibly be about what we’ll be walking into tonight, if we take up this last-minute invitation to put our heads into the lion’s mouth. It’s either that or …’

Marcus reached down to his belt and pulled a knife from its sheath, raising the curiously patterned iron so that Excingus could see it. His voice was cold, that of a man barely holding on to his temper.

‘This dagger has a curious history. It was originally part of a larger weapon, a sword made with an exotic iron from the east and forged under the hammer of a smith with incomparable skill. That sword would cut through armour like cleaving smoke, and when I took it from the man who was using it for evil purposes, I had it melted down and reformed as a series of knives, of which this is one. Do you see the parallel with yourself perhaps?’

Excingus snorted his disdain.

‘I tell you everything, or you’ll use it to cut me to pieces?’

‘
Yes.
’

The informant looked into his eyes, and realised with a start that, if anything, the centurion would probably rather he remained silent. He sighed.

‘Very well. You know all too well that I’m a pragmatist, especially with a blade at my throat. My man inside Pilinius’s domus is his secretary.’

Scaurus raised an eyebrow at the informer.

‘You’ve suborned the man who has every tiny detail of the senator’s dirty little games in his head? That really is quite impressive, Excingus. I may not like you, but I’m forced to admit that as informants go you’re straight out of the top drawer. What did you do, pay him or threaten him?’

‘That’s not rel—’

Marcus leaned forward and glared at Excingus, his hard-eyed stare speaking volumes as to his desire to take his knife to the man, and Scaurus smiled grimly at the informant’s involuntary twitch of fear.

‘Oh, it is relevant, I’m afraid. What are we to do should your man’s resolve weaken at a critical moment, if he realises the inevitable consequences of his betrayal if we fail? It’ll be too late to ask questions once we’re at Pilinius’s mercy, won’t it? So I need to know what your leverage was, Informant, in order that I can use it to put him back in line if he shows any sign of turning on us. Without that we’ll have no choice but to turn down this
opportunity
, and with that your usefulness to us will be at an end.’

The informant looked at him, then back at Marcus.

‘I have no choice, I see. Very well.’ He sighed, raising his eyes to the room’s ceiling at being forced to disclose his secrets. ‘I discovered, by means of tailing the man when he left the senator’s estate on the private business that Pilinius allows him, that he has children by a slave in another senatorial household. It seems that their owner gave him to Pilinius in repayment of a debt when the senator decided that he needed a rather more capable secretary. They live with their mother, whose owner is a relatively soft man and has not yet sold them on. It seemed likely to me that this man would want to purchase not only his own freedom, but that of his woman and the children, and so I realised that I had two means of controlling him.’

‘Money and the risk of betrayal?’

Excingus smiled at Marcus, nodding his head.

‘You know, Centurion, I think you’d make a very capable grain officer. Yes, money to swell the funds with which he hopes to buy their freedom, and the threat that Pilinius might come by the information that his secretary has children. The senator’s more than clever enough to realise that his man is compromised by their existence, were he ever to discover them, and quite sadistic enough to claim them from his colleague as the secretary’s blood and therefore his property as the man’s master. And what he might do with them once he had power over them … well, that’s enough to give any man pause for thought.’

The tribune thought for a moment.

‘So these tokens …’ He shot a look of disgust at the metal square resting on his palm. ‘Will gain us entry to Pilinius’s villa?’

Excingus nodded.

‘Not just into the house, there’ll be plenty of people there who are only invited to attend the party that’s the front for the real event. After all, there are only a very few men who gain access to the senator’s real entertainment, the rest are just invited to provide the cover of an innocent night of debauchery for those select few.’

‘I see. That explains the rather explicit imagery on this …’

He held up the shining piece of silver, and Excingus shook his head.

‘Don’t let that rather simple picture fool you. The reality of what the senator and his friends get up to is a good deal worse.’

‘
Worse?
’

Excingus shook his head, his stare withering.

‘Either you’ve been away from Rome for too long or you’ve been lucky enough in the past to avoid the sort of people that Pilinius associates with. If you’re going to do this thing then you’d better be prepared to witness some sights that you might have preferred never to have seen.’

Marcus shook his head, his teeth bared.

‘I’ve walked battlefields after the fighting’s done with. I’ve disembowelled, decapitated, crippled and maimed. I’ve left barbarian warriors to die in agony, crying for their mothers. The men who killed my father not only destroyed my family’s honour, they condemned me to a life of marching from the scene of one massacre to the next, listening to my soldiers weeping and thrashing about in their sleep at the horrors they have seen and done to other men, and those inflicted on their comrades. Trust me, nothing you could show me in this city comes anywhere close to the spectacular displays of massed slaughter in which I’ve played my part.’

The informant shrugged equivocally.

‘We’ll see. And now gentlemen, perhaps I ought to talk you through the domus’s layout?’

The first gang members arrived an hour or so before dusk, strolling down the street with bemused stares at the queue outside the barber’s shop. They stood for a moment taking in the scene, then walked in past the queuing customers, none of whom, Morban noted, cared to protest about them jumping the line of waiting men.

‘There’s a queue I’m afraid, gentlemen, you’ll have to wait your turn with the men outside.’

The taller of the two bent to address Morban with a condescending smile, the happy expression somewhat marred by his empty left eye socket. Putting his heavily scarred knuckles on the desk behind the standard bearer’s desk, he sneered into his face.

‘If we wanted a haircut,
Fatty
, then we wouldn’t be queuing for it, and there ain’t one of your customers would have the balls to stand in our way. But, as it happens, we ain’t come for a haircut, we’re here to give
you
one.’ He looked around at his comrade with a smirk of pride at the joke. ‘Ten per cent of your day’s take, in return for our constant vigilance against any threat to your business. You’d be amazed what sorts of nastiness can happen when a shopkeeper chooses not to purchase our services.’