Gates of Rome

CHAPTER 41

AD 54, Subura District, Rome

Cato studied them in silence, Bob in particular, before he finally spoke. ‘He is every bit as big as you said, Macro. I thought you were exaggerating.’

‘Never seen a brute this size move so quickly.’

Maddy found herself smiling. The bud in her ear was working hard to find and settle on suitable simulated voices and appropriate translations for the coarse soldiers’ Latin they were using. For Cato, it came up with a cultured-sounding British accent. For their landlord, Macro, it produced the tone, accent and mannerisms of a parade-ground sergeant.

Maddy whispered in a question then parroted the Latin to them. ‘What proposition did you want to discuss?’

‘You are newcomers to Rome, visitors?’

Maddy and Liam nodded. Sal, without a bud translating for her, could only look on in silence.

‘And you?’ Cato directed his question at Bob. ‘Where have you come from?’

‘He’s from Britain,’ said Liam. ‘In fact, we all are.’

Cato stroked his chin. ‘Can he not talk for himself? Is he mute?’

‘I am able to talk,’ replied Bob.

Cato recoiled at his deep voice. Macro laughed. ‘Told you, lad. He’s a monster.’

‘You’ve come here… on what business?’

‘Uh… just to see a bit of Rome, so we did.’

Macro laughed at Liam’s response. ‘With all manner of plagues going on, starvation and riots on the streets, you’ve picked a daft time to be tourists!’

Cato waved him quiet. ‘Macro’s quite right: this is not a good time to be in Rome. There’ll be blood washing the streets soon if matters don’t change.’

‘We noticed on the way in,’ said Maddy. ‘People on crucifixes… hundreds of them.’

Cato frowned. ‘Why do you whisper once before you speak? What’re you saying?’

‘It’s just… just how our, uh… how our tribe talk. It’s a custom.’ She shrugged. ‘We’re odd that way.’

‘Not a custom I’ve ever encountered before,’ grunted Macro.

‘Your emperor’s gone totally insane, hasn’t he?’ said Liam.

Macro barked a cough. Cato stiffened. ‘That’s not something you should say too loudly these days, lad.’ He lowered his voice. ‘There are purges going on in every district. Rival families, the wealthy ones, stripped of their villas, farms and money. Informers rewarded handsomely by Caligula for betraying those who openly doubt his divinity. Many of the collegia are bribed by him. The Praetorian Guard are paid well…’

‘You’re a Praetorian, aren’t you?’ said Maddy.

Cato stopped, nodded with a hint of shame. ‘For my sins, I am.’

‘So why are you here?’ she asked. ‘What’s this proposition?’

She noticed a shared glance between both men. A look that spoke of old friendship. More than that: trust; the kind of trust from which the thread of a life could hang.

‘There are a few of us,’ began Cato, ‘only a few of us left, prepared to meet and discuss this.’

‘Discuss what?’

‘A change.’

Change? Maddy listened to the word whispered into her ear. A word loaded with intent. Danger.

‘You’re talking about removing Caligula?’ she said.

Macro swore under his breath and stepped forward. ‘Foolish woman!’ he hissed. ‘You don’t just blurt it out like that!’

Bob stirred protectively, taking a step towards Macro.

‘It’s OK, Bob. He’s right.’ She turned to the two Romans. ‘Sorry… that was careless of me.’

Cato nodded. ‘Quite.’

The candle’s flame guttered and twitched on the floor between them.

‘I should inform you, you are all now in some danger,’ he continued. ‘The collegia will know where you live; they’ll come with a lot more men. You understand… reputation is at stake? Reputation is everything to them.’ He turned to Bob. ‘They’ll particularly want your head mounted on a spike as a warning to anyone else.’

‘Then they will be unsuccessful,’ replied Bob matter-of-factly.

Macro grunted appreciatively and smiled. ‘I like his spirit.’

‘Fighting off a dozen thugs is one thing. But they’ll muster as many men as it takes to bring you down.’ Cato gestured at the others. ‘That or they’ll make an example of one of your friends.’

Liam turned to the others. ‘Uh… that doesn’t sound so good,’ he muttered in English.

‘What doesn’t?’ asked Sal, looking from him to Maddy. ‘Maddy? What are they saying to you?’

Maddy ignored her. ‘What’s your proposition?’

‘Leave, come with me to a safe place for now. Away from here… where we can talk more comfortably.’

‘Talk about what?’

Cato looked at Bob. ‘An arrangement.’

‘Arrangement?’ Bob rumbled. ‘Please clarify.’

Cato shrugged. ‘For money. A lot of it if you’re successful.’

‘I do not need money,’ replied Bob.

‘Sure he does,’ Maddy cut in. ‘We’ll come with you.’

Cato raised an eyebrow at her then looked back at Bob. ‘Am I talking to the horse or the cart?’

Bob cocked his head. Confused.

‘Does this young woman normally make all your decisions for you?’

‘Affirmative. And the other two also.’

‘You’re their slave, then?’

‘Negative. I am their support unit.’

‘Look, we’ll come with you,’ said Maddy, ‘but we’re after information, not money.’

‘Not after money?’ said Macro. ‘They’re an odd bunch, this lot.’

Cato nodded. ‘Information about what?’

‘Something that happened about seventeen years ago? Right here in Rome?’

Macro and Cato looked at each other. ‘They must be talking about the Visitors.’

‘Visitors! Yes, that’s it,’ said Maddy. ‘We need to know as much as you know about them.’

She got a dry laugh from the tribune. ‘Rome is filled with all manner of rumours and stories about that day. And every story is different. Most of them I fancy are superstitious nonsense peddled by Caligula’s acolytes.’

‘Stories for children and gullible fools,’ added Macro.

‘Somebody arrived here seventeen years ago,’ said Maddy. ‘Somebody not from this world.’

Cato studied her silently. ‘And what makes you so certain of this?’

‘Something happened, didn’t it? Something that can’t be explained. Something Caligula has chosen to use to make people believe he’s a god.’ Another question occurred to her. ‘Around that time did he suddenly gain… powers? Special abilities? Some sort of device or tool, a weapon? Is there a reason why he has lasted so long?’

The two men remained tight-lipped. More care was needed discussing such matters.

‘Why hasn’t someone replaced him? Tried to assassinate him?’

In the dark, Sal squeezed her hand, a sign she’d spotted something. Maddy had spotted it too: the momentary flicker of a glance from both Romans at Bob.

A support unit.

‘Have you seen someone like him?’ Maddy said, pointing at Bob. ‘Just like Bob? Is that it?’

‘No,’ Cato answered. Then he added, ‘Not of the same appearance… but if my friend Macro’s account of the fight this afternoon is not an exaggeration then…’

‘I saw him take a mortal wound, Cato. On his flank.’ Macro took a step towards Bob. ‘There… you can see the blood on his tunic!’

Bob turned away to hide the dark stain.

‘Why not show ’em?’ said Liam. ‘Let ’em see!’

Maddy nodded. ‘Yeah, good idea… Bob, let them see. Lift your tunic.’

He reached for the hem, lifted it slowly up, exposing the top of his britches, the ribbed muscles of his stomach and finally the flesh of his wound, like puckered lips, raw and red and crusted with dried blood. Slowly he turned to show his back, and an exit wound.

‘This man should be dead,’ said Macro. ‘Run completely through. He should be dead!’

Cato nodded. ‘He’s one of them.’

‘Them?’ Maddy cocked her head. ‘You said them?’

Cato’s eyes remained warily on Bob.

‘You’ve seen others like him?’ She addressed her question to them both. ‘You’ve seen others like Bob?’

Cato nodded. ‘Yes. We call them Stone Men. They guard Caligula night and day.’