“I doubt that,” he said. Again, I found hiswords surprising. He turned to look at me, his expression as if hewere deciding something. Finally, he said, “That letter that Primusshowed you authorizing this campaign? It was a forgery.”
Even suspecting this to be the case, hearingit confirmed gave me a shock.
“How did he do it? And why did he do it?” Iasked, trying to maintain my composure and not arouse Masala’ssuspicions by making a reaction. Masala shrugged, still keeping hiseyes front, talking out of the side of his mouth.
“He had one of his clerks write the letterout, knowing that nobody would raise an eyebrow that it was not inAugustus’ handwriting. The trick was to have it with theappropriate seal. That he lifted from another document and had itplaced on the one he showed you,” Masala said, confirming whatFlaminius had volunteered as the probable ruse.
“As to why,” he continued, giving a slightshake of his head. “I can’t tell you for sure because I don’t know.What I think is that it’s one of two things. He either thinks thathe knows something about how much wealth is within the walls ofSerdica and it’s such a vast sum that he’s sure he’ll be forgivenfor anything. Or,” he paused, like he was hesitant to verbalize thevery thought in his mind. “He’s being put up to challenge Augustus’authority by a faction of very powerful men in the Senate who don’twant to make such a challenge themselves for reasons known only tothem.”
I could see him eyeing me while we rode,studying my face as I digested what he was saying. The implicationsof what he was suggesting were staggering, yet I was sure that hewas right, at least concerning the forgery. As far as the reasonwhy, that was another matter.
“Why would Primus allow himself to be usedin such a dangerous plot?” I mused, not concealing the doubt in myvoice.
“I don’t think he’s allowing it,” Masalareplied. “I think that he’s being forced to because of someinformation that these men have about him that would ruin him if itwere to be known.”
I still did not believe that this could bethe cause, and I said as much.
“What you’re saying is that there’ssomething these men supposedly know about Marcus Primus that wouldbe more dangerous than participating in a plot, willingly orunwillingly, that puts him in direct conflict with Augustus. Idon’t see there being anything more dangerous than that. If I werePrimus, I would have called their bluff, given the high probabilitythat I was going to end up having my head part company with therest of my body if this supposed challenge fails.”
“You’re not Marcus Primus,” Masalacommented. “You’ve seen him. He’s clever, but he’s not smart, andthere is a difference. Add to that how for all his bluster he’struly a cowardly little bugger, and I would say that it’s a loteasier than you think to intimidate him into being in front of allthis,” Masala finished, waving his hand around to indicate the armyon the march.
There was no missing the bitterness in hisvoice as he spoke this last, telling me whether he was a trulywilling participant in Primus’ affair with him.
“How do you know this? And more importantly,can you prove it?”
Masala’s face reddened when I askedthis.
“I’d rather not say how I know, but trustme, Prefect, I know that at the very least, that letter he showedyou is a forgery,” he insisted. Then his face fell, and he finishedreluctantly. “But no, I can’t prove it.”
“Then I don’t have to tell you to keep yourmouth shut,” I told him firmly. “Or your life won’t be worth achain mail rivet.”
“You don’t think I know that?” he askedquietly, looking at me directly for the first time.
By the time we had finished ourconversation, we were back in camp, and I had a number of things toworry about other than whether or not Masala was involved in a plotto overthrow Augustus.
“How long is this going to take?” wasPrimus’ first question, his petulance clearly on display while hesat in his curule chair, listening to my report.
“To build the plutei, and put theartillery into position, at least a day. A lot depends on what theThracians have in the way of their own artillery. If they have justarchers or slingers, then it will take less time. But if they havetheir own ballistae, then perhaps two days.”
“Then how long before that wall comesdown?”
I looked over to Flavianus, whose scowldeepened, not liking to be put on the spot.
“Praetor, there is really no way of tellingthat,” he explained. “We have enough of the heavy ammunition tolast for a two day bombardment, no more. But.” He put up a warninghand. “It must be kept in mind that we haven’t yet seen the city.We may need some for Serdica. In fact, I would be willing to wagerthat we will.”
Given what I had learned about MarcusPrimus, I watched his face with curiosity, wondering if he was oneof those men compelled to take a challenge like this and put moneyon it. However, the Praetor seemed to be only interested in thefirst part, and was clearly not pleased.
“That’s not an answer,” he snapped. “Will ittake a day? A week? A month?”
Now Flavianus looked trapped, not wanting tocommit to a precise estimate with a man like Primus, knowing as Idid that if those rocks managed to stay in place above the gatethat Primus would most likely hold him responsible for thefailure.
“Praetor, in my professional judgment, Ican’t give you a precise time when that fortress gate will comedown.”
“That’s not good enough.” Primus actuallystomped one foot before looking over at me. “Prefect, you’re theone who decided that this fortress had to be taken, so you shouldbe able to tell me when it will fall.”
Knowing that he would not be satisfiedwithout a definite answer, I decided that it was better that hiswrath should fall on me.
“Three days, four at the most.”
Even now, he was not satisfied.
“Which is it? Three or four?”
“That’s the best I can offer, Praetor.”
Take it or not, you little prick, I thought.Seeing that I
