Out of the Waters (30 page)

The maid began to blubber again. Alphena made a moue: Syra's behavior infuriated her. She couldn't really blame the woman, but if she had to listen to more of this whining, Alphena was going to slap her just to shut her up.

“Syra,” she said. “Go back to your cubby and stay there until morning. Go on, now!”

Florina took the other maid by the shoulders and turned her around, then shoved her out of Alphena's protective circle. The push wasn't brutal, but it was more forceful than necessary.

“Next,” Alphena said, “where's Agrippinus? Oh, never mind, there's Callistus. Callistus, come here!”

Her mind had direction now. She was proceeding logically, with a feeling of relief because she
was
proceeding.

The deputy steward had just come from the office. He heard his name and looked around with an angry expression to see who was calling him.

Alphena waved imperiously. That might not have been sufficient, but a Po-Valley Gaul from her escort bellowed, “Callistus! Get your fat Syrian ass over here! Lady Alphena wants to talk to you!”

The deputy steward's expression went from being furious to being terrified in an eyeblink—the length of time it took him to get past the insulting nature of the summons to what the words actually meant. He came over to Alphena as quickly as his feet could mince.

“Your ladyship?” he said. “Is there something wrong? I assure you—”

“Hush,” said Alphena. “Find one of the clerks and a runner for me. I want to send a letter to—oh!”

Anna couldn't read and write. Her husband could, but Pulto was here already with Corylus. And besides, Anna wouldn't be able to—

“Your l-ladyship?” said the frightened deputy steward.

“The double litter is still here at the house, isn't it?” Alphena said, making her decision as the words came out of her mouth. “Get it around to the front with the crew immediately. I'm going to see Master Corylus' nurse at his home.”

She gestured to the servants standing around her. “These men will be my escort,” she said. “And find Iberus for a guide, he's been to the apartment block before.”

“You should be talking to Nestor,” Callistus said. “The litters are—”

He closed his mouth and swallowed when he saw Alphena's face contort.

“Want me to pop him one, your ladyship?” the big Gaul asked cheerfully. “Let him see how those pretty teeth feel going down his throat?”

“I'll see to it at once, your ladyship!” Callistus said. He turned, shouting, “Nestor! Spartax! I need you!”

“Your ladyship?” Florina said. “The regular litter hasn't been taken back to the warehouse either, from when your father was using it. The little one would be handier if you're going alone.”

Alphena looked at the girl. “I'm
going
alone,” she said. “But I'm bringing Anna back with me.”

She took a deep breath and added what she hadn't intended to say to anybody but Anna herself. “When Anna gets here, I'm going to have her help me to find Hedia. Because Hedia came to save me.”

*   *   *

C
ORYLUS FOUND
V
ARUS STANDING
in his stepmother's bedroom, staring moodily at the wall. The painting of Neptune and Amphitrite in a conch-shell chariot being drawn by sea horses was attractive—under other circumstances, Corylus might have spent some time examining it himself—but he doubted that his friend was really thinking about art at the moment.

Dozens of servants were in the suite, chattering, shuffling, and peering closely at the furniture. As Corylus entered, a maid opened a wardrobe cabinet, stared at the contents, and closed the wicker door just in time for a footman to open it and repeat the process.

“Gaius?” he said quietly. Then, when Varus didn't react, he said in a louder voice, “Gaius Varus?”

Varus turned; his look of fierce intensity became welcoming. He said, “Publius, I'm glad to see you. Have you had any luck, ah…?”

He apparently didn't know how to end the question. Corylus smiled faintly; that was understandable, since framing the questions was the really difficult problem.

“Perhaps,” Corylus said. “Is there a place we can talk privately?”

“Right here, I think,” Varus said, “if Lenatus and your man—”

He gestured past Corylus to the pair of veterans who had followed him into the suite.

“—can clear the room and then stand in the hallway.”

Corylus looked over his shoulder. Lenatus grinned like a drillmaster—a position he had held with the Alaudae Legion—and bellowed, “All right, you pansies! On the orders of Lord Varus, out! Every bleeding one of you. And if my buddy Pulto and me don't think you're moving fast enough, you're out the bleeding window!”

“And we
won't
take the grating off first!” Pulto said.

Servants either looked up in shock or hunched and stared at the floor, but they moved with surprising unanimity toward the door. Corylus heard a few whines of complaint, but no one tried to argue.

Varus leaned close to Corylus and said, “Could they really do that? The windows are too high, aren't they?”

Corylus grinned, remembering a fight he'd seen in a tavern in Moguntiacum. There were no windows, but openings under the peak of the high thatched roof allowed smoke to trickle out.

“I think they could,” he said. “But I don't think it'll come to that.”

Lenatus and Pulto were the last out of the suite. Before he banged the door behind him, the trainer looked back and grinned again.

Corylus grinned also. “You've impressed Lenatus,” he said.

“What?” said Varus, looking puzzled. “I just stood here. Goodness,
I
couldn't have emptied the room like that.”

“You
did
empty the room,” Corylus said. “You identified the correct subordinate for the job, gave him clear instructions, and stayed out of his way while he executed them. Any time you want a career that involves freezing your butt on the Rhine, the army is ready to give you a home.”

He visualized his friend creeping through the Hercynian Forest in loose woolen leggings with a cape over his shoulders. His laugh was real and spontaneous, a release after a very tense day.
Hercules! A lot of very tense days!

“You learned something about Hedia from talking to the doorman?” Varus said, smiling mildly at his friend's pleasure. He didn't ask what had caused the laughter, for which Corylus was thankful. Varus would think he was being mocked.

“No,” Corylus explained, “and I didn't expect to. I was able to talk to Pulto and Lenatus about how we might find Pandareus, or at least find out more about him, though. Which is why I was prowling around with them.”

He grinned and added, “Your other servants were scared to death of being blamed for intruders getting in, so they kept as far away as they could while the three of us were muttering to one another in the door alcove.”

“Very good,” Varus said, nodding. “Yes, at least we know who abducted Pandareus.”

He pursed his lips with a frown and said, “It seems very unlikely that Tardus and his associates were involved with whatever happened to Hedia, however.”

Corylus shrugged. “I can't imagine that there's
no
connection, however,” he said. “Anyway, we have an entry point on Pandareus and none at all on her ladyship.”

Until now he'd kept his friend in the dark about his plans, which would have irritated many people. He hadn't really been worried about how Varus would react—he was too smart not to realize that this discussion had to wait for complete privacy—but it was good to get past the concern.

“Right,” said Varus. “Explain your plan. And—”

A real smile lit his face.

“—if you're going to tell me that it's dangerous, as your expression suggests you are, then save your breath. I watched Typhon, if that's what it was, destroying Carce. Nothing can be more dangerous than letting that happen.”

Corylus started to speak and found his throat was dry. He coughed to clear it, then said, “A tribune with a squad of the Praetorian Guard and an imperial writ would be able to enter Saxa's dwelling, I believe. Ah—”

Spit it out!

“You were able to find the concealed entrance to the Serapeum,” he said, his tone level and his eyes on his friend's. “I think, I hope, that you would be able to find Master Pandareus if he's hidden in the house also. But because you've entered the house recently and by daylight, you would certainly be identifiable after the event. The others involved might possibly be able to conceal themselves from an investigation.”

Varus shrugged. “As I say, I don't believe any risk is as great as the risk of doing nothing,” he said. He seemed truly nonchalant instead of putting on a brave face before his friend. “But how under heaven are you going to get a squad of Praetorians to escort me?”

“Ah!” said Corylus. “Pulto has connections with the equipment manager in the Praetorian barracks. For a sufficient payment, ten sets of accoutrements can be declared unserviceable and sent out to a scrap dealer. That won't include swords, of course, but swords are available from the gladiatorial schools. They're no problem.”

“I see,” said Varus. “But the men? I know we could hire idlers easily enough, but I wouldn't want to trust them not to be drunk—or to run off when they really understand what they're expected to do.”

“Nor would I,” Corylus said, pleased to see how quick his friend was, even on a matter that had probably never crossed his mind before. “Lenatus has sounded out seven of your male household servants; he's had time to get to know your staff pretty well, of course. All of them agreed to join us. Ah, I'll be the tribune, of course.”

“Yes, of course,” Varus said absently. He glanced toward the wall painting of Hercules spinning yarn for Queen Omphale. As before, Corylus doubted that the—excellent—painting figured in his friend's thoughts.

Varus turned back. “You're talking about slaves,” he said. “If this goes wrong, they will certainly be tortured and then crucified. Unless they die sooner under torture.”

He pursed his lips for a moment as he thought. “Well, I suppose we all will,” he said, “but we're freemen—you and me and the two at the door. Why would any slave take such a risk?”

“Gaius,” Corylus said, his grin spreading into a slow smile, “I don't have the faintest idea, but it doesn't surprise me. Men do lots of crazy things they don't have to do. The scout detachments on the borders, they're all volunteers, and believe me, there's nothing the emperor's torturers can do that the Germans and Sarmatians haven't done. I've seen the recovered bodies.”

He took a deep breath, silent for a moment with the memory. “I've helped recover the bodies, though I was a civilian kid who shouldn't have been across the river,” he said, so softly that he wasn't sure his friend could make out the words.
It doesn't matter
.

He cleared his throat again and said, “Anyway, Lenatus trusts them so I trust them. They'll mostly have to keep their mouths shut, because some of them speak bad Latin and the rest speak worse. Keeping their mouths shut is right for soldiers on a raid like this, though.”

“Well, that's in your hands,” Varus said. “You're the officer, after all. What is my role, besides acting as your rabbit hound?”

“Well, there's money,” Corylus said reluctantly. “I mean, I could swing it with a little time, but Father's banker would send to Puteoli before he'd clear the amount we'd need. There isn't time. We need to move tomorrow, as early as we can get it together.”

“That's not a problem,” Varus said, gesturing with his open left hand. “I'll talk to Father as soon as you've told me everything you think I need to know. What else?”

“Nothing else, I think,” Corylus said, again relieved of more stress than he had realized he was feeling. “I'll be in front with Pulto; you'll be right behind us, and then the rest of the squad with Lenatus at the rear. Wear a toga. Tardus' servants can think what they want, and I'll make sure Tardus himself has plenty to think about if he tries to argue. Beyond that—”

He tried to grin. It came out lopsided, but Varus seemed to appreciate the effort.

“—we'll place our counters according to the throw of the dice.”

“Yes,” said Varus, nodding. He threw his shoulders back and shook himself. “Wait here, if you would. I'm going to go talk to my father.”

Corylus watched his friend leave the room, standing straight. Building Carce from huts on a hilltop to the metropolis of today had taken more kinds of men than just those who were willing to charge the enemy's shield wall.

It had taken men like Gaius Alphenus Varus.

*   *   *

T
HE ENTRANCE TO
S
AXA'S
suite was open. Varus didn't know which of the ten or a dozen servants clustered there was technically the doorman on duty, so he said, “Ask my father if I may speak with him,” in a firm voice and trusted that the right party would hear him.

Servants oozed away, some turning their backs on Varus and bending away. They left a worried looking footman standing alone. He swallowed and piped, “Your lordship! His lordship has gone downstairs. I don't … I don't … your lordship, his lordship didn't say where he was going!”

It's quite amazing how useless our hundreds of servants are in a crisis,
Varus thought.
They're all frightened to death
.

So was he, of course, but that didn't keep him from trying to find a solution.

Manetho had reattached himself when Varus left his mother's rooms. “I'll find him, Lord Varus!” he cried as he rushed down the stairs.