Marcus Aurelius Betrayed (12 page)

After about an hour they reached the surveillance post. Vulso directed them to a taverna around the corner from the target apartment house where Secundus was staying. The taverna bore a signpost with an obelisk. Then he signaled to a man down the street, who signaled to someone else. Moments later, a man dressed in an ordinary brown tunic came over and said something to Vulso. Vulso brought him to the taverna to meet Judge Severus.

The surveilling marine told the judge that discreet inquiry had determined the apartment Secundus and Cupid occupied was on the second floor. The only thing that happened, recounted the marine, was that about an hour ago the slave boy left hurriedly carrying a message
tablet. “One of our men followed him to the area around the Moon Gate, but then lost him in the crowd. The slave returned to the apartment a short while ago, still carrying a message tablet. Now we’re waiting.”

A few moments later Cupid walked out of the building and turned left down the street. He turned the corner and walked on the sidewalk right in front of the taverna where the judge, his wife and four marines were talking. Severus got a good look at him when he passed by. He was a thin young man, with a mincing feminine step, wearing an effeminate long-sleeved silk tunic. His face was made up with powder and gold dust covered his hair like dandruff. He pranced down the street without even a glance in either direction.

Severus rose from the table. He motioned to Artemisia and Vulso. “Come on, let’s follow him.”

Vulso tried to dissuade him. “There are already two men on him, judge. It’s a tricky job to follow someone without giving yourself away.”

“Don’t worry, Vulso,” said Severus, pulling the Centurion out the entrance, “he seems completely oblivious to everyone on the street and with the way he’s dressed we don’t have to worry about him melting into a crowd.”

Cupid headed into the Egyptian quarter, walking toward the Moon Gate. He paid no attention to the shops beginning to close down or the late shoppers making quick purchases and hurrying home. He never looked behind him. The judge, Artemisia and Vulso hung back about three quarters of a street behind Cupid and had no trouble keeping him in sight.

After a quarter of an hour walk, Cupid entered a taverna that bore a signpost with the name and a painting
of “The Two Crocodiles.” Vulso ushered Severus and Artemisia into a shop two doors up and across the street from the taverna. They couldn’t see inside.

“Let the marines handle it now,” cautioned Vulso. “One of our men just followed him inside. The other is outside.”

They proceeded to browse among the wares of the shop they were in, mostly copperware – plates, bowls -- while keeping an eye on the tavern entrance. Vulso brushed aside the proprietor with an abrupt instruction to be let alone. He backed away from them and resumed his seat at a table in the rear, where he stroked the sleeping store cat.

A few minutes later a man in an ordinary worker’s tunic approached Vulso, whispered something into his ear, and returned to a post from where he could watch the tavern’s interior. Vulso conveyed the message to Severus.

“He went into a room in the back of the taverna. There’s a curtain in front and we don’t know what or who is behind it.”

Severus nodded and resumed inspecting the copper-ware. A few other customers walked into the store and the proprietor attended to them. It was now dark outside and people on the street were now carrying lanterns or torches to light their way. The tavern entrance was lit dimly by the light from oil lamps inside, but anyone entering or leaving could be seen from Severus’ vantage point in the shop. When the other customers had left, the proprietor asked them to leave because he had to close the shop. Vulso told him that it would be impossible, they were there on a police matter. The proprietor returned to his table and played with the cat.

A few minutes later a signal from the outside agent alerted them that Cupid was coming out. He appeared at the door, barely glancing at the street, and headed back in the direction he had come from. A marine followed him. Vulso received a signal from the other marine.

“Another person has come out of the curtained room,” he told Severus. “Look, he’s at the entrance now and walking this way.”

Severus watched him stroll by the shop. He was a bald-headed man dressed in a long white linen robe, tightly drawn around the chest and descending almost to his feet, which were shod with white palm leaf sandals. An Egyptian priest.

“I’ll bet,” whispered Artemisia to her husband and Vulso, “that the priest is Petamon.”

“Have him followed,” Severus instructed the Centurion.

“There’s no need to have him followed,” countered Vulso. He pointed down the street. “Look who’s coming out of the taverna.”

Severus watched a familiar man look up the street after the priest and stroll along behind him. “I guess there’s no doubt about the priest being Petamon,” laughed the judge. “After all, who else would Straton be following.”

Later that night, Straton reported to Judge Severus that he had followed Petamon from the Isis temple to “The Two Crocodiles” tavern, where he went inside and disappeared behind a curtain. After a while a thin, foppish young man with gold dust all over his hair and wearing a long-sleeved tunic – “Cupid” interjected Severus – came into the taverna and disappeared behind the same curtain. After a while Petamon came out and left the
taverna. Straton was unable to get close enough to hear what went on behind the curtain.

“So why was Petamon meeting Cupid?” asked Vulso, knowing the answer even as he asked the question.

“Evidently Cupid was there to deliver a message from Secundus to Petamon or to take a message from Petamon to Secundus.”

“Or both,” continued Vulso.

“Or both,” agreed Severus.

XVIII

CUPID’S APARTMENT IS SEARCHED

A
t the 3
^rd
hour the next morning, Vulso checked in at the observation post in the “Obelisk Tavern” across from the apartment house where Secundus was holed up. He spoke to the marine in charge of the surveillance team. Secundus and Cupid had left an hour ago, reported the tough looking marine. They were walking arm and arm and looked like they were going out for a day on the town.

“What about the slave?” asked Vulso.

“He’s down the street shopping for pots.”

“How long has he been there?”

“Not long.”

“Delay the slave,” commanded Vulso animatedly. “I’m going in.”

“How should I delay him?”

Vulso thought a moment. “Offer to buy him a drink. And if he’s so impolite as to refuse, knock him cold.”

Vulso ran up the stairs to the second floor and found the door of the apartment. He knelt down and studied the lock. Then he reached into a pouch on his belt and
extracted his lock picks. It was only an ordinary lock and it took Vulso only the ordinary amount of time to spring it. He straightened up, opened the door and walked in.

The room was large and fancily decorated with expensive colored silk hangings and an obscene wall mural showing a variety of orgiastic scenes involving combinations of men, women and mythological creatures. The room smelled of attar of roses and a variety of antiques decorated shelves and tables. Vulso went to a door leading to a hallway. There were rooms on either side. One, sparsely furnished, was obviously the slave’s, while the other was lavishly decorated. It featured a gilded bed with coverlets of fine Chinese silk and a mattress that reeked of perfume. There was a table with papers and writing equipment against one wall. Against the other wall, on the floor, were two chests. Next to one was the musette bag which Secundus had brought with him from the Hadrianum. Vulso went for it, opened it up and peered in. It was empty. He tried the lid of the chest next to the bag. It opened. A pile of tunics was laid neatly on top on one side, and a variety of toiletry articles was on the other. Vulso took out the clothes and carefully placed them on the bed.

Underneath was a collection of papyri. He unrolled the top sheet and read it. It was a copy of the criminal charge sheet in Secundus’ case. There were also other documents which looked like copies of the file in the case against Ganymede. Vulso saw Ganymede’s confession to putting poison in the Prefect’s cup and the statement Secundus had obtained from the sorceress Phna, denying she had sold poison to Ganymede. There was nothing else of interest. He walked over to the table and examined the papyri on it. One looked like it was being
worked on. It was an unfinished document, written on good quality papyrus in black ink, with many editing marks and crossings out in red ink. Blank spaces were left to be filled in later. A sheaf of the same quality papyrus was on the left and a writing case with red and black inks on the right. Vulso picked up the papyrus and read it.

“Year 3 of the Emperors Marcus Aurelius and Lucius Verus, in the Prefecture of Marcus Annius Calvus, year 2, the …day before the… of….

“To the Court of the Prefect of Egypt, from Philogenes, scholar at the Great Library of Alexandria.

“I make this affidavit as a witness in the case against the slave Ganymede. I declare that I saw the slave Ganymede pour wine into the Prefect’s dolphin cup. I also saw...”

It was unfinished. Vulso smiled to himself. Not only hadn’t Secundus figured out the date of the affidavit but he hadn’t yet decided what else Philogenes had seen.

The Centurion sat down at a desk, pulled a fresh sheet of papyrus from a pile, and made a copy of the document, even duplicating the red editing marks. Judge Severus would undoubtedly be pleased to have a copy, he thought while writing. He could place it under court seal that day and have it opened if Secundus tried to present a finished version in court. It would bury him.

Vulso finished the copy, cleaned the pens, replaced the tunics in the chest and left the apartment. He was careful to relock the door with his tools. He walked down the stairs thinking about what made Secundus so confident his fabricated affidavit would not be contradicted by
Philogenes. Did he know the Homeric scholar was dead and could never repudiate a forged signature? Or did he know Philogenes was alive and would sign it?

When Vulso came out he saw the two marines squatting on the sidewalk playing dice.

“Where’s Cupid’s slave? I thought you were buying him a drink?”

The tough looking marine got up from the game. “If you go around the corner and walk down the street, you’ll see a crowd of people gathered around a street-corner doctor.”

“Yes?” said Vulso, a malicious grin coming to his face.

“That doctor,” continued the marine,” is setting someone’s fractured ribs.” The marine returned his own malicious grin. “Those ribs belong to Cupid’s slave. You see, sir, he refused to have a drink with me.”

XIX

THE PAULINA AFFAIR

T
he trumpets blared, the drums beat and the semaphore signal flags waved. Judge Severus stood on the ramparts of the legionary camp at Nikopolis. It was near noon and the Sun was scorching the plain below, while a wind whipped up along the battlements. The Prefect of Egypt, other toga-clad high government officials, and a crowd of uniformed army officers lined the ramparts, watching the Legion II Traiana Fortis maneuver on the plain below.

Ten cohorts, each of 360 soldiers, formed separate solid squares on the plain. The first line of four cohorts, with three open spaces between them, advanced in battle formation, javelins ready, their long oblong shields up, swords in scabbards slung at their sides. Skirmishers of light cavalry wheeled on the flanks, while slingers and archers screened the advance. The second line of three cohorts, arranged behind and between the spaces in the front line, followed closely behind, while a third line of three more cohorts brought up the rear. The order to charge was given. Spears were thrown. The roared
battle cry of almost 4,000 men called “
Vae Victrix
” --“Woe to the Vanquished” -- and the standard bearers leaped forward, followed by the whole legion. The Sun flashed off the metal armor and helmets of the troops, as if a blazing, flashing bronze and silver river were in motion, while the dust of the plain arose around the advancing war machine.

“They’re keeping formation nicely,” Severus heard an army officer standing next to him comment to an aide.

The Legate in command of the legion, observing from the ramparts, gave an order and a semaphore-man signaled the troops below. The trumpets sounded in response and the frontal attack turned into an oblique maneuver, with the left wing holding back in a defensive position as a pivot, while the right and center advanced, the right rapidly and the center more slowly -- like a door slamming shut.

Severus stared fascinated at the spectacle. He had never seen anything like it. There was an incredible feeling of power and force emanating from the advancing army. The jumbled noises and movements of ferocious men and spirited horses and clanking armor made the ground shake and the air vibrate.

The commander waited until the right wing had pivoted 180 degrees and then halted the whole legion now in line facing the opposite direction. “They’re out of line,” screamed the Legate at his staff. “The center was too slow. The Persian cavalry could have ridden through that gap and taken us in the rear.” The Tribune who was being yelled at went pale. “Get down there,” yelled the Legate, “and see that they do it right this time.” The Tribune and his staff scrambled down the stairs.

The observers relaxed and took wine from platters that army orderlies were passing around. The Prefect
extracted himself from his staff and headed toward Judge Severus.

“I’m sorry to have dragged you all the way out here,” Calvus apologized, “but I hope the spectacle is worth it.”

“It certainly is,” replied Severus.

“You can also report directly to the Emperor when you return to Rome about the battle-readiness of the II Traiana Fortis. These drills are the heart and soul of the army. You know what they say about the legions – ‘their drills are like bloodless battles and their battles are like bloody drills’. But that, I’m sure, is not what you wanted to talk to me about.”