the cross for two or three days before succumbing to thirst, torn between asphyxiation and the terrible pain in his feet when he pushes up against the nail hammered through them to ease his breathing. And that’s before we consider the carrion birds that will do their damndest to get at your eyes while you’re still breathing. And how are your family going to take it when the news reaches them that you’ve been crucified as an example to others, I wonder? Of course the emperor may take a lenient view of your crime. He might spare your family their property, and their lives. Or he might not. He might take the view that they are fully responsible for your actions, and have the praetorians turn them out onto the streets. Confiscation of the family properties might give him some feeling of recompense, as might the indignities that I can assure the soldiers will visit upon them in the process. They get so little entertainment, you see, that the chance to make sport of fallen aristocrats is a great opportunity for them, and so much better value than simple whoring.’ He walked away from the shivering procurator, speaking aloud again. ‘It goes without saying that I have the power to make this all a lot less unpleasant, for you and your loved ones. I can commute your sentence to something a little less drastic, just as long as we recover the proceeds of your crime. But that can’t happen unless you give up the identity of your business partner.’
He waited in silence for Albanus to reply, but after a long pause the prisoner shook his head slowly, his voice quavering on the edge of tears.
‘I can’t. He knows where my family live…’
Scaurus shook his head in a display of sympathy.
‘Ah. I see. Yes, well, that is a dilemma. I presume that you mean your “partner” has taken steps to ensure your compliance? You’re the junior man in all this, and he has a good firm grip of your balls to keep you from doing anything silly?’
Albanus nodded.
‘Soon after we entered into our arrangement he told me in great detail about my parents’ house, my brother’s wife and children, every little detail to prove his knowledge of their lives. He has connections to the gangs of Rome, and he told me in painful detail what would happen to them all if I ever tried to take more than my share, or informed on him. My crucifixion would be nothing by comparison, and the risk to my family from the emperor is less certain than what he told me would happen to them if I were to talk. None of my men will talk either; they all have people here in the city.’
Scaurus nodded, his sardonic smile replaced by a frown as he sensed the frustration of his fleeting hopes of a swift end to the matter.
‘I’m starting to understand your place in all this a little better, Procurator. This man approached you with the idea in the first place, didn’t he? He’s got contacts in Rome, and they sent him everything he needed to ensnare you into the scheme. Your own greed was enough at the start, but any ideas of getting out once you’d made enough money were never going to be allowed, were they? After all, once a supply of gold has been opened up there’s never any incentive to stop it flowing in. A gang leader can never have too much money, now can he?’ He looked at Albanus, his expression fading from anger to pity. ‘You know that I’ll have to execute you, regardless of the circumstances?’ The prisoner nodded his head miserably. ‘And if I tell you that I have a very good idea who your partner is, and that I only need confirmation of that last detail?’
Albanus shook his head again.
‘It would make no difference. If I even hint to you where to look for him he’ll know it, one way or another. It would be better for you to put temptation out of my reach by having me killed.’
The tribune nodded with a slow, sad smile.
‘I can respect your bravery in this matter, Procurator. I can see that you felt you had little choice when this man made you the offer. It was one that could not easily be refused. And if I cannot spare you the indignity of a criminal’s death, I can at least make it a quick one. I’ll save the more protracted exit from this life for your tormentor.’ He waved a hand to Julius. ‘Take him back to his cell, and make sure he doesn’t meet the other prisoner. It seems your moment is at hand.’
The centurion nodded, ordering his men to escort Albanus from the room and turning to follow them with a grim smile. Scaurus worked on a stack of papers as he waited for the next prisoner to arrive, briefly raising his glance as the man was marched into the room, then returning his attention to them while the soldiers herded their charge into place with spear prods and meaningful stares. Julius stepped in close once the prisoner was upon his appointed mark, looming over the smaller man with a smouldering glare as he pulled the dagger from his belt and raised it to hack away the assistant procurator’s customary long sleeves, leaving his arms bared. Holding out a hand behind him he took a torch from the waiting soldier and held it close to the prisoner, close enough to scorch the hairs on the man’s arms and illuminate the mass of gang tattoos that writhed up both arms. Nodding dourly he turned away and surrendered the torch, then spun back and put a fist deep into the other man’s gut, doubling him over as he gasped for breath. Scaurus looked up again, dropping a scroll onto the desk’s scarred surface.
‘Assistant Procurator Petrus. Forgive me if my approach is a little blunt, but I’ve got bigger problems than a bit of petty theft to be dealing with. I promised the centurion here one good punch, just to let you know who you’re dealing with now, although I have to admit I have enough sympathy with his view of you that I was tempted to let him replace the fist with his dagger, and remove you as a problem with one flick of his wrist. You’re in army hands now. I could have your throat cut here and now and never fear any consequence. My men would rip through your pitiful collection of thugs and murderers like fire through a cornfield, and I could only take pride in the act of cleaning such criminal filth from the streets of Tungrorum. And don’t trouble yourself with denials; your arms speak clearly enough of your status in the city.’
He waited for the wheezing prisoner to respond, and Petrus studied him from beneath half-closed eyelids before answering, his voice strained from the effects of Julius’s gut punch.
‘As you say, Tribune, my tattoos do rather betray the way I’ve chosen to make my living.’ He looked down at the artwork that decorated both of his arms. ‘When I was young these were a good way to intimidate the people around me, and now… now they serve to remind me of where I came from, I suppose. I grew up on the street, Tribune, and the first thing I learned there was that gangs are like weeds, always there no matter how hard you work to clear them away. And if you clear mine away there’ll be another crop within weeks, along with all the usual fighting that accompanies such a struggle for power. There would inevitably be innocents caught up in the chaos, but then I’m sure you know that or you’d already have done exactly as you threaten. But to return to the apparent case against me… petty theft, Tribune? You have me at a disadvantage. Since I was pulled from my bed at dawn I’ve not spoken to another person, and so I have no knowledge of the matter you’re describing.’
Scaurus shook his head with a wry smile.
‘Of course. And you, the quiet man behind your procurator, silently and efficiently getting on with the business of the empire.’ He stood up, taking the scroll from the desk and carrying it as he went to stand before the prisoner. ‘See this?’ Unrolling the paper he held it up before the other man. ‘Procurator Albanus — I should say ex- procurator, of course — has confessed to a rather large fraud against the imperial grain supply. These numbers detail the profits he’s made over the last two years, profits he tells me he has shared with a shadowy figure he refuses to identify.’
The assistant procurator turned a glassy stare on him, his face utterly immobile as he recovered his customary reserve.
‘Fraud, Tribune? Procurator Albanus? I can scarcely believe it. And how much?’ He peered at the paper, his eyebrows rising in apparent amazement. ‘Surely that’s not possible? Those sums are truly shocking..’
He shook his head and lapsed back into silence, eyeing Scaurus with the same neutral expression. The tribune stared back for a long moment before turning away, talking as he rounded the desk and sat down.
‘Don’t worry, Petrus, I won’t have a confession beaten out of you. Not that I’d hesitate to have Julius set about you with enough vigour to get the shit running down your legs if I thought a nice quick admission of guilt would result, and not that he’d hesitate to beat you half to death.’ Petrus flicked a glance at the glowering centurion, who was clenching his fists so tightly the knuckles were bone white. ‘I am, however, still a man of principle myself, and if you’re the man I think you are then you could probably hold out long enough that I could never be sure if it was guilt speaking or simply the need to stop the violence.’
Petrus regarded him levelly, his expression still steadfastly unchanging, and in that instant Scaurus knew he was guilty.
‘No, I’ve got a better idea. I’ll be assuming the temporary role of procurator until a replacement for Albanus can be found and make his way here, and in the intervening period your services will not be required. You can consider yourself dismissed from your position as of now.’ Petrus bowed his head slightly and turned away, waiting
