Saviour of Rome

XXX

What had he missed? The question nagged at Valerius in sleep and in waking. Apart from a few details he believed he could picture the overall form of the conspiracy, perhaps even the faces of the main conspirators. But where was the proof? Julius Licinius Ferox had been confident enough of his invulnerability to encourage Valerius to visit the Red Hills mine, but he would never allow him to get near the documents and the figures. They undoubtedly existed. Yet without that physical evidence what did he have? Theory and conjecture and a gut feeling that he was going in the right direction. Perhaps Ferox was unaware of just how much information Valerius had been able to glean from Nepos, but little good it did the Roman.

Petronius had known where the proof lay; perhaps he even acquired it. But Petronius was dead and, if it existed, the proof died with him. Any evidence had been completely destroyed when Severus’s servants cleaned the house. But had it? A blackened patch of earth in the garden, but what did that mean? Just how thoroughly did the arsonists carry out their work? The key to the conspiracy could have been lying there a finger length beneath the surface all the time. In fact, he’d had little opportunity to check the garden area at all. There must be a dozen places where Petronius could have hidden copies of the documents he’d obtained. The engineer had been a careful man. It was just the sort of thing he would do.

Valerius made his decision. He would go back to the house.

Market day and Asturica Augusta was on the move early. The lodgings Severus had provided made it difficult to enter or leave without being seen, but not impossible. Valerius dressed in his worn travelling tunic and stole a sack from the kitchen. He filled it with anything portable he could find until it looked like something he might be taking to the market. With the sack over his shoulder so it hid his face he stepped confidently into the street.

The direct route would take him past Severus’s villa so he took a detour through one of Asturica’s many alleys. It brought him out into a street that ran inside the eastern wall of the city. He’d only been walking for a few moments before he realized someone was close behind him. He tried changing his pace, now slow, now faster, but the follower simply matched him. In desperation he darted into the next opening.

His last memory was of a hand poised over him before an explosion of light and the world faded to black.

When he regained consciousness he thought he was blind, but gradually he realized he wasn’t the only person in Asturica capable of stealing an old sack. It smelled of dead birds and something tickled his nose. He struggled to breathe against the stifling heat. And not just inside the sack. He could feel it on his legs and arms. Legs and arms that were tied brutally tight to whatever he was sitting on. An unnatural heat. The heat of glowing coals. Valerius had to still a swift surge of panic, returned for a moment to Pliny’s stable and the gruesome fate of the would-be assassin. Would he even get the opportunity to speak? And all those other questions. The who? The why? Had this been brought on by his pursuit of Petronius? Or did the attack have its origins in Rome? One thing was certain, this time there would be no tall, bearded saviour to the rescue.

‘He’s moving.’ The sound of an unfamiliar voice muffled by the sack.

‘Good.’ More authority in this man’s tone. ‘I feared you might have hit him too hard. Remove the hood.’

Someone grasped the sack from behind and hauled it over Valerius’s head. He flinched at the blast of heat that hit his face and the red glow that seared his eyes and blurred his vision. When his sight cleared he was facing a tall, dark-haired man on the far side of an iron basket filled with shimmering coals. Not the grim-visaged torturer he’d expected. A narrow face with chiselled, handsome features and a long, thin nose that had been broken at some point. Solemn grey eyes and full lips pursed in an expression of extreme distaste. He wore a white tunic belted at the waist with a rich gold chain. Valerius had never seen him in his life.

He was in a cellar of some sort, with the instruments designed to instil terror artfully displayed in the glow of the coals. Smoke swirled around the ceiling despite the vents that served to dissipate the suffocating heat. Yet something about the frightful display puzzled him. These tools could be used to inflict pain, but that was not the purpose they’d been designed for. They were functional implements borrowed from a blacksmith or a foundry – hammers, chisels, pincers and a pair of fearsome looking shears. Frightening, in this context, but not the specialist torturer’s tools he had seen used on the man who had tried to kill Pliny. This was a carefully prepared setting, like the backdrops at the rear of the stage he’d seen during performances at the Theatre of Marcellus in Rome. They could hurt him, of that there was no doubt, but their priority was to get him to talk and Valerius was happy to talk.

Then there was the question of just who they were. If they formed part of the conspiracy why not simply cut his throat? It was just possible Valerius had more to gain here than to lose.

‘Let us begin,’ said the man he could see.

‘This is how it works.’ A hand gripped Valerius’s hair and a fiery streak of pain shot through his scalp. A reminder, if he needed one, of why he was here. The pain faded as the grip relaxed and a hand reached out for a poker that glowed red and dangerous in the heart of the coals. The hand wore a leather glove and when its owner turned with the poker and came into view, Valerius had a moment of utter confusion. It was the man he’d seen beating the slave who’d followed him on his first day in Asturica. ‘When my master speaks you answer. If you don’t answer I will hurt you. If we think you are lying I will hurt you. Just bear in mind we know more about your activities than you think.’

‘It would help if I knew who I was talking to.’ Valerius flinched as the gloved fist moved the poker closer, but the man in the chair held up a hand. ‘You will notice that I do not demand to be released or protest that I shouldn’t be here,’ he continued. ‘I am perfectly happy to speak, but surely there is a more civilized way to have our discussion?’

‘That is not possible, for the moment. I do not wish to torture you, but I will if I must. Who are you?’

‘My name is Gaius Valerius Verrens, but I assume you already know that since I have done nothing to hide the fact. Do I have the pleasure of addressing Cornelius Aurelius Saco?’

The glowing poker shifted to fill his vision and Valerius jerked his head back. ‘You do not ask. You only answer,’ the torturer snarled. But Valerius had seen a flash of consternation cross the tall man’s features and he knew he was correct. It gave him the confidence to risk everything to retain the initiative.

‘You had a slave follow me when I arrived in the city – I make no judgement, I assume you had your reasons – unfortunately he wasn’t cut out for subterfuge and I managed to elude him. Later I witnessed him being … chastised … for his failings and a gentleman in the street identified your secretary.’

‘I see …’ Saco said thoughtfully. ‘Yet that changes nothing.’

‘Perhaps, but it raises the question why you felt the need to have me followed. Everything I’ve been told since coming to Asturica Augusta points to you being the man I’ve been looking for. Yet if you are I wonder why I’m not already dead?’

Saco stared at Valerius with a hint of puzzlement in the grey eyes. Clearly the moment of decision had arrived. Valerius held his breath and waited. Either the torture would begin or Saco would decide he’d get more information from Valerius by less painful means. Eventually, Saco waved the poker away. Valerius realized he’d been straining against his bonds and slumped back in the chair. He waited for Saco to cut the ropes, but apparently his captor still hadn’t reached that stage of trust. Instead, he asked: ‘What are these things you have been told?’

Valerius held his gaze. ‘That you are an important man in Asturica. Rich. You endow buildings and put on regular entertainments. A man of power, unless I miss my guess.’ Saco shook his head, but Valerius continued. ‘It has also been suggested in certain quarters that you are ruthless, avaricious, unscrupulous and not averse to using violence to further your business interests.’

Saco winced. ‘Some of this may have been true in the past, but whatever I have done I hope that my more recent acts have atoned for any pain I caused.’

‘I suppose that would depend on just what you’ve done and how much pain,’ Valerius said. ‘What interests me more is just how you came by the riches that allowed you to endow the city baths and the other buildings that bear the name of Cornelius Aurelius Saco.’

‘What are you suggesting?’ Saco bridled.

‘That you may be involved in criminal activity which threatens the good government of the Empire.’

Now Saco was out of his seat and his bulk seemed to fill the room. For a moment Valerius thought he’d provoked him beyond control, but the builder only glared at him. ‘You dare to accuse me of disloyalty to the Empire?’ he hissed.

‘You asked me what I had heard. I answered honestly.’

‘Then you have been speaking to the wrong people. Yes,’ Saco sighed and sat back in the chair, ‘I was all of those things. But a man can become so rich that the next success has little value to him. He has time to look back on his life and wish that certain things could be undone.’ He leaned forward with his shoulders hunched and the fingers of his hands entwined, a frown creasing the narrow brow. ‘Of course, that is not possible. But when my wife died I decided to make an effort to repay what I had taken. To give back to the community that which I owed. The enemies I made are still enemies. No amount of public goodwill will change that, but the people appreciate what I have done and I am content.’ He picked up the heavy shears and for a moment Valerius had a vision of the point plunging into his body. Instead, Saco stepped behind him and used the twin blades to cut the ropes holding him. ‘Now, the question is, who are you? – Oh, I know your identity and a certain amount about your background – but why are you in Asturica Augusta? A former soldier. A man who is forever seeking information. Who consorts with the worst elements in our society. People who have undoubtedly been pilfering the Empire’s gold …’

‘You have proof?’

‘Not proof,’ Saco shook his head. ‘I sent word of my suspicions to Tarraco three years ago, but for his own reasons the then governor chose not to, or could not act. He was replaced. Since his successor also did nothing I fear his loyalties had been bought and my report was never passed on.’

‘Suspicions?’

Saco turned to his secretary. ‘Leave us, Claudius.’ When the man was gone he poured water into a cup and handed it to Valerius. ‘In a way your accusation was correct, at least partially. There was a time when I profited more than was right from the mines. I convinced myself it was only business, but of course, it was more than that.’

‘Corruption?’

A nerve twitched in Saco’s cheek at the word, but he nodded. ‘It was part of the system and we treated it like a game, making jokes as we passed over the bribes that would win business, or make twice as much profit as a job was actually worth. Yet the sums involved then were relatively small. Gradually, I realized I was prostituting myself and putting my family at risk. I resolved to get out. To become a simple honest businessman.’ He gave a bitter little laugh as if he didn’t quite believe it himself and Valerius realized that behind the confident exterior Cornelius Saco was a frightened man. ‘I’d only just started the process when, around the start of the civil war, it was suggested to me that I could be part of something that would make me immensely rich. Nothing specific was mentioned, but it was clear to me that whoever was behind it was deadly serious.’

‘Who made the offer?’

‘A lawyer from Tarraco. He said he was acting as an intermediary for the principal parties.’

Valerius grunted in frustration. Always another layer of shadow. ‘And what was your answer?’

‘I said I wanted nothing to do with it.’ He must have seen the doubt in Valerius’s eyes, because he insisted: ‘You must believe me.’

‘Did the lawyer have a name?’

Saco nodded. ‘I made enquiries. Marcus Tulius Veranius was found drowned in his bath shortly after his visit to me. An accident.’

Valerius froze. A coincidence? No, there were no coincidences where the Emperor’s gold was concerned. The same men who had tried to kill Pliny had murdered Veranius. ‘Did you include this when you reported your suspicions?’

‘Yes,’ Saco said. ‘But as I said, nothing was done.’

‘Gaius Plinius Secundus never received your report,’ Valerius said firmly. ‘But even so he needs more than suspicions. I was sent here to investigate the disappearance of a man called Petronius.’

‘I knew Petronius,’ Saco said guardedly. ‘I did what I could to help him.’

‘My mission is identical to his. Will you help me?’

Saco hesitated. ‘I have a position to maintain in this city. If there were prosecutions, accusations would be made. That position might be threatened.’ He gave Valerius a shrewd look. ‘Petronius promised me immunity against prosecution for any previous misdemeanours I committed. Can you do the same?’

The lawyer in Valerius noted the choice of words. He had a feeling Saco wasn’t talking about a few business sweeteners, but what choice did he have? ‘I have the governor’s authority … and the Emperor’s. You will have your immunity.’

At the mention of the Emperor Saco licked his lips. ‘You can prove this?’

‘If I must,’ Valerius assured him. He could produce Vespasian’s warrant if necessary, but first he needed to know just how far he could trust the builder. Thankfully, Saco appeared willing to accept his good faith.

‘Then I will do what I can.’

‘Good. When you say I consort with the worst elements in the city, I take it you mean Severus? It was he who damned you in much the same terms.’

Saco nodded. ‘Severus, yes, along with Ferox, the praefectus metallorum, Fronton. I am certain of them. I have my suspicions about two of the military men at Legio. Petronius felt that too many gold shipments were being attacked where one or two wagons would go missing, but the escort suffered only a few light casualties and often none at all. He said you should look for patterns.’

Valerius remembered his interview with Pliny. ‘He told Plinius Secundus he believed he was on the verge of exposing a conspiracy much wider than the mere theft of gold. Do you have any idea how he would have come to that conclusion?’

Saco’s face took on a guarded look. ‘Just before his death Petronius told me he had uncovered a new and potentially decisive source of information. Someone inside the conspiracy, though he would reveal neither the identity or whether it was one of the major figures. The possibilities clearly excited him. If this source fulfilled the potential he hoped for, it is possible he could have achieved a vital breakthrough. Perhaps even laid hands on the direct proof you say the governor needs.’

Valerius stared into the glowing coals. ‘When your men took me I was on the way to Petronius’s house to search the garden. Severus’s people burned documents there and buried the ashes. I hoped-’

Saco shook his head gloomily. ‘I too hoped, but I personally checked the burned area and crumbled ashes is all that remains. Not a single charred piece that might provide a clue.’

‘Then I don’t see what more we can do. Whatever Petronius knew died with him.’

‘There was one other man who helped him,’ Saco said. ‘A most capable character who was Petronius’s eyes and ears on the road.’

‘Then we must find him.’

‘It is not so simple.’ The builder shook his head. ‘He disappeared at the same time as Petronius. I learned a few weeks later that he had been taken and condemned to work in the mines. He is probably dead by now.’

‘Then it is finished.’ Valerius struggled to disguise his despair. ‘Unless we can track down Petronius’s source the conspirators have won. Whoever they are they must have had some contact. Is there any way of building a picture of Petronius’s movements in the days before he disappeared?’

‘I can try, but it will be difficult to ask the right questions without the risk of discovery. If they believed we were on the scent of something important they would close every avenue.’ He sent Valerius a glance full of meaning. ‘Permanently.’

‘Have they threatened or tried to attack you personally?’

‘No, not yet,’ Saco admitted. ‘I don’t believe I have given them reason to fear me. All they’ve done is blacken my name, but I know what they are capable of. That’s why …’ He gestured to the coals and the smith’s tools.

‘You are not like them,’ Valerius said. ‘I knew that the instant your man removed the hood and I looked into your face.’

‘There is one other thing.’ Saco’s voice mirrored his uncertainty. ‘The men I spoke of must be part of the conspiracy. Each of them is a link in the chain of gold production and supply. Yet I do not believe any one of them has the intellect, the nerve or the ingenuity to achieve what they have done.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I believe there is another, unseen hand guiding them.’

‘Do you have any suspicions who it might be?’

‘No,’ Saco said regretfully. ‘But I know he is utterly ruthless, wields great influence in Asturica Augusta, yet is able to operate from the shadows. A very dangerous man. It seems to me from what Petronius hinted it is not just the theft of Vespasian’s gold that is at stake here, it is the very future of the province of Hispania Tarraconensis.’