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.’
CHAPTER 42
AD 54, Rome
‘Who in the name of the gods are these people?’
Liam didn’t get the impression they were entirely welcome. The man was small and slim and wearing nothing more than a towel round his narrow waist. The parchment skin of an old man hung in wattles from his neck, wrinkled into slack bands over his knobbly knees.
‘Crassus, they’re not safe where they are!’ replied Cato, ushering them into the senator’s atrium.
‘So? This isn’t a public refuge for waifs and strays!’
‘They could help us, Crassus.’ Cato pointed at Bob. ‘Particularly this one.’
‘My gods…’ muttered Crassus, eyeing the support unit up and down. ‘He’s a giant!’
‘And fast, very fast,’ added Macro.
Crassus nodded. The old senator turned back to Cato. ‘But at this time of night! Caligula’s eyes are everywhere! You arrive at my home at this hour, you’re asking to attract attention!’ Crassus looked a little out of breath. ‘And can you not see I’m being washed? Whatever this is about, it can wait, can’t it?’
‘We need to talk, Crassus.’ Cato’s tone conveyed everything it needed to. ‘An important matter.’
Crassus nodded slowly. ‘All right.’ He wafted his hands at the slave lathering his legs and feet with oil. ‘Off you go, Tosca.’ He smiled. ‘I can finish here myself, thank you.’ He waited until his slave was gone and the atrium was empty but for himself and his unexpected visitors. He stepped out of the wash bowl on the floor and padded wet-footed across the cool granite floor to a seat.
‘Cato…’ he began cautiously, eyeing Bob and the others. ‘If this is “a matter” that might be best discussed in a dark corner, I suggest we — ’
‘This big one — ’ Cato pointed at Bob ‘- is a Stone Man.’
‘Oh please.’
‘He is.’ Macro nodded. ‘Seen him fight with my own eyes. He took a sword that would kill any man.’ He turned to look up at Bob. ‘Why don’t you show him?’
Bob looked at Liam, who nodded.
‘Go on,’ muttered Liam. ‘Might as well show him too.’
Bob lifted his tunic to expose the six-inch line of puckered flesh across his ribcage.
‘To the hilt and out the back,’ added Macro. ‘I’ve seen that wound too many times. If it doesn’t kill you outright… it’ll finish you within hours.’
Crassus shuffled over towards Bob, one hand holding the towel round his waist for modesty; he reached the other out and lightly ran his fingers along the seam of knitting flesh. ‘This must be an old wound.’
‘Actually it happened earlier this afternoon,’ said Cato.
