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Burgis died a few hours later, just as the sun was going down. His last words confirmed what Rutilius already knew. The killer had been bought by Clemens, though he had been working for Catullus for a while. Evidently Clemens learned that Rutilius had won even further honors, despite all he did to prevent it. He snapped, and ordered the killing. He had been reading the mail to Rome, and learned that Rutilius would be home for six weeks. Burgis was to strike then. An itinerary was also given, so that the killer could report to the employer after the deed was done. Clemens believed he owed it to his dead cousins to end the man who betrayed them. To Burgis, it was just another contract, though a rich one.
“So Clemens is the man behind the attack,” Roscius said that evening, in the sitting room of the main house. He looked out the window, where he could see the still form of Burgis still hanging from his crucifix. “He hired Burgis there, then failed to pay. Strange that- he had a lot of booty from his own campaign.”
“Burgis did not perform, thus did not earn the payment,” Cordinus said flatly. “He was to rape then kill my quaestor’s wife before his eyes, then kill him as well before burning them both. He failed. So why should he be paid?”
“Typical nobleman’s thinking,” Roscius scoffed. “Who hired him?
Clemens. How do we know? Burgis told us. What would have happened had he paid Burgis for the attempt, not the success? Burgis would have fled with his money and we would know nothing. Had the man paid, he would now be unknown and his deeds laid at the feet of Catullus.”
Cordinus grimaced at the truth. The miserly Clemens left a trail of blood to his own door. Had he paid in full...
He stood up suddenly, and went to his office. Roscius shrugged, and poured himself some more wine. He offered the flagon to Rutilius, who waved him off while staring at the dead man hanging outside the window.
“How long are you going to leave him there?” Roscius asked.
“I’ll take him down in the morning and have him thrown into the river as I promised,” Rutilius said absently, emptily. The death of the man emptied him of the drive for revenge. His wife’s killer was caught and punished. The completion of that task left him floating, as if in a void. He knew it would refill with the desire to punish Clemens once the emptiness of this execution passed, but for now he was drained.
“There are few men who deserve this fate more than he,” Roscius said. He saw the pain on the quaestor’s face, a pain he himself knew well. Most good men have it when they have killed a man in cold blood as he had, even one who deserved it. “You have done the empire a service, even if it was only for this one crime he was punished. Your regret will pass. I know.”
“I have no regret,” Rutilius said plainly. “He murdered my family and many of our people, I crucified him as is only proper. No, no regret about this. Well, maybe one, but that one will be handled in time.”
“Clemens?”
Rutilius nodded. “I was getting to love this place, too.” He sighed, “Now I have to kill a triumphator to settle my ghosts. The Imperator will not like that, and will set more than one man like you after me. After I kill Clemens, my own life here is over. I wonder if Segestes has a place for me over there?”
“You will not have to run if you do it right,” Roscius said lowly. “You can play his game- hire a murderer. Or you can ambush him enroute about his latifundia. He lives near Ancona, I have heard, and has large estates in western Etruria. Lots of mountains, lots of forest in between those two. There is a bandit problem in Italia. His death would be blamed on them, leaving you free and clear. Unless you get caught, of course. But I doubt you will- you are far luckier than I have been.”
“You sound like you know a lot about murder,” Rutilius said lowly.
“Murder requires a lot of patience and watching,” Roscius replied, just as lowly. “I am an arcanus- I am paid to be patient and watch. I kill only when necessary.”
Cordinus came bustling in with several tablets. From their markings, they were intelligence summaries from Rome. Newsbriefs, mostly. He opened one of them.
“Clemens was granted a triumph,” he said bluntly. “He left for Rome with the XIV Gemina, and named Sextus Caelius Calvus as acting governor. In this one, two weeks before,” he added, pulling out another tablet, “Titus Sabinus was named quaestor of Germania Superior, vice Catullus. Why then would he put Calvus in charge of the province, when he had a quaestor?”
Roscius swore softly. “Calvus owes much to Clemens,” he said. “And there were a lot of transfers into and out of the XIVth in the last few months. None from the I Adiutrix, but plenty from the XI Claudia, VIII Augusta, and VII Gemina.”
“Titus Sabinus and the I Adiutrix are along the Danube, along with the VIIth,” Rutilius remembered. “That’s pretty far east, and over bad terrain. He must have put Calvus in charge due to him being in Mogontiacum, the capital.”
“Yeah,” Roscius agreed. “The hand-picked successor of a crooked governor in Mogontiacum, with two legions.”
Rutilius cursed. “The post runs through Mogo as well- even post to Sabinus on the Danube. He would hear nothing Calvus did not want him to hear. Us as well.”
“And the bandit problem in Italia- prep work?” Roscius asked.
“What the hell are you two on about?” Cordinus asked in frustration.
“Calvus is a good general, eh?” Roscius said with a curse. “And with two legions he has a nice blocking force along the road to Rome.”
“We have four,” Rutilius reminded him. “Six, counting Sabinus.”
“Sabinus can’t move if he doesn’t know,” Roscius retorted. “And I was sent to investigate you. If I had found anything, you would have been summoned to Rome, leaving Cordinus here alone. Calvus with two legions versus Cordinus with four? No offense, buddy, but I’d give that one to Calvus.”
“What the hell are you two on about?” Cordinus repeated in rising frustration.
Rutilius glanced at Cordinus. “Do you not see? Clemens is stealing a march on Rome.”
“A change of command,” Roscius confirmed. “And me being the stupid arcanus I am, did not see it coming. Instead, the Imperator’s eyes and ears were out investigating a squeaky-clean quaestor who should be hailed a hero, not a villain. He played it well.”
“Oh don’t be so ridiculous,” Cordinus laughed. “Cornelius Clemens is a loyal Flavian- that’s why he got the province. I know, I was one of the reasons he won the post- we both helped teach young Domitianus to be a good consul.”
“You also told me the Imperator thinks I am a threat to him,” Rutilius retorted. “Me, with no connections in Rome, a threat. You justified this by saying I had connections to eight legions, remember? Well, if Clemens could rid you of me, then he is in pretty good shape. He would have you and our army blocked from moving south- you might win, but our army would be hurt badly and in no shape to chase after him. Sabinus is cut off, and in terrain just as constricted. By placing two legions astraddle the road, he has effectively cut six legions from being able to render aid.”
“He took a single legion,” Cordinus reminded him. “One, and one with many transfers. You yourself taught me that it takes months to get a legion to work as a whole. They will not be a cohesive unit, and there are nine cohorts of praetorians guarding the Imperator who do work together. One hybrid legion against nine cohorts of elite praetorians? He would not dare!”
“How about against three or four cohorts?” Roscius asked. “There is a bandit problem in Italia, and Titus Junior has been handling it- using praetorians.”
“Shades of Sulla,” Cordinus gasped. A hostile legion... defenseless Rome, he could see the graffitti quite clearly. The hunch of the arcanus was correct. “We need to intercept that legion.”
“They have at least a two week headstart,” Rutilius reminded him. “And their starting position is at least a week closer to Rome than we are. And Calvus will be holding exercises this month- I would bet he is already blocking the road.”
“His legions are probably now being told how disloyal to the Imperator you are,” Roscius added. “Accused of this and that, sent on a suicide mission, and treated like yesterday’s garbage. My fault, too- Clemens sent me to investigate you for treason, and I went. That fact is by now well-known throughout their legions, lending support. As for Cordinus, he botched the campaign, leaving a march on Rome as his only hope of ever retaining power. If either of you march now, those legions would stop you- thinking you are the rebels and they are the loyal ones.”
“We cannot simply sit still,” Cordinus said with an audible groan.
And he was right. But what to do? He could gather the legions, but that would take time. He could let Rutilius command- he would destroy Calvus, but again valuable time would be lost. Thus militarily there was no option. Nor could he leave the border unguarded- there was a sort of peace now, but if the legions headed for Rome? A flood.
“We send a letter,” he decided. “The postal riders can get there before the legion.”
Rutilius shook his head while Roscius explained that all post goes through the mail room at Mogontiacum, which is sure to be controlled by a Cornelian lackey who would intercept such warnings and drop them in a convenient stove.
“Not all messages go through official channels,” Cordinus reminded them. “Some are delivered by merchants, others by riders who happened to be heading where the letter needs to be. Like the post you brought my quaestor from his wife.”
“I would stop all traffic,” Roscius said. “A bridge is out, or a road caved in. It’s too dangerous to proceed, et cetera. It will be fixed in a month or so- we have our finest lads working on it now. That sort of thing. What merchant or other traveler is going to doubt the word of a centurion or legate?”
“A fair point,” Cordinus conceded.
“I will go,” Rutilius determined. Word had to get out, even if the warning was not confirmed. Better safe than sorry, old Pappa Rutilius used to say. “I am familiar with the Via Mala- having crossed it twice, and know Germania Superior from my time as acting governor of both Germanias. I know routes around Mogontiacum that Calvus probably does not. I can slip through and around his legions with no hassle.”
“Calvus has been in the province for two years at least, probably three,” Cordinus said. “He would know the roads, and the new ones that have been built since. They would both be heavily patrolled by cavalry. They have a lot of Gallic cavalry, and you are known.”
“I know the roads, too,” Roscius added. “There are not many. I’d put cavalry on them as well, were I him. No, we are screwed. Travel over Lugdunum?”
“Too long,” Rutilius conceded.
“Your friend Titus Piscius was patrolling the lower Rhenus,” Cordinus remembered. “He stopped in on his way north. He should be putting in soon before returning to his base at Mogontiacum. Maybe he can ferry you upriver past the blocking force?”
Rutilius nodded. “The river gets right dangerous and narrow south of Mogo, but it could work.”
Roscius agreed. “We will take Cordinus here with us,” he added. “He has clout where you and I do not. They will listen when he speaks. I’d need the head of Clemens or something written to prove my words, whereas your words, Rutilius, are unfortunately worthless to imperial ears.”
“Us?”
Roscius nodded. “Us. I am going with you. The navy might get you past the legions, but I know the land once we are past. I’ll get you to the Via Mala, then you get us to Rome. Maybe that scroll Cadorus found will be enough evidence to support my claim.”
“I will write you a summary as well,” Cordinus added. “I cannot go with you- one of us must remain in the province, and I am the governor. I am also disgraced, but still favored. If I go with you, I would be abandoning my province and it will look like I am trying to protect my soiled reputation by tarnishing his. You are rising star, Marcus, and have nothing more to prove, what with your corona civica, corona graminea, and opportunity to claim spolia opima. You will be heard, despite what the arcanus thinks. I will give you a summary to carry, adding my weight to your words.”
Roscius whistled at the awards. “Can you prove any of that?”
Rutilius shrugged. “It does not matter- the Imperator will hear what he wants to hear, regardless of the source. However, the corona civica is a matter of record- given to me by Cerealis himself for saving him and the army at Gelduba. The corona graminea can be attested to by any centurion in Germania Inferior, while the spolia whatever was witnessed by eight cohorts of legionaries from Britannia.”
“A bona-fide war hero,” Roscius said with another whistle. “I think we might pull this off after all.”
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