They stood back and watched as the flow poured over the edge of the board, well clear of the ledge running under the cataract. Septimus appeared round the corner of the tunnel, then Plautus and the first of the Germans.
‘Can’t tell you how glad I am you came up with that.’ Septimus nodded at the board. ‘Otherwise …’ he gestured towards them with a grimace.
‘It wasn’t down to me,’ said Cato. ‘It’s something that Cestius and his friends came up with, so they could get the grain through without exposing it to the sewage. Simple, but very effective.’ He turned to Plautus. ‘I think we’re very close to them now. Have your men draw their swords. We’ll also put out some of the torches. Calidus, Septimus and I will feel our way ahead. You follow on, slowly. We can’t afford to give ourselves away until we know what lies ahead.’
Plautus nodded. ‘We’ll be ready to go in as soon as you give the word, sir.’
‘Good.’ Cato held his torch out into the flow to douse the flames and then handed it to one of the Germans before he turned towards the tunnel. He took a calming breath and the three of them set off, the padding of their soft-soled boots drowned out by the sound of the cataract until they had gone a good fifty feet further. The light from the torches faded behind them. Cato trailed his fingertips against the side of the tunnel until they came to an opening. He slowed down. ‘Here. To the right.’
‘Can’t see a bloody thing,’ Macro grumbled from the darkness. ‘Daft idea not to bring at least one of the torches.’
‘Too risky,’ Cato replied. ‘We’ve no idea what lies ahead. Best not to risk alerting Cestius.’
‘We’re sure to outnumber him. Those German lads might not be the sharpest arrows in the quiver but they’re tough. We’ve got nothing to fear from Cestius. Not unless he’s got a small army tucked away down here.’
‘He might have, for all we know. But I’m more worried about him getting away. I need to speak to him, if I can.’
‘Why?’ asked Septimus.
‘I need some answers,’ Cato replied bluntly. ‘We’re wasting time. Let’s move.’
They set off down the side tunnel, feeling their way in the darkness with one hand on the wall, while they probed ahead with the toes of their boots. The floor of the tunnel was dry and the only sounds were the occasional scrape of their footsteps, the sound of their breathing and the scuttling of rats. Twice Cato thought that he could hear something ahead of them but by the time he stopped and whispered for the others to be still the sound had gone. The pace was slow and Cato worried that the Germans might start to follow them in their eagerness to finish the job and get out of the tunnels back into the open air. He glanced back frequently and was gratified to see the faintest glimmer of a torch only once. Centurion Plautus clearly had his men in hand.
Which is more than Cato could say for his imagination. Every sound seemed grossly magnified so that he was torn between anxiety over the amount of noise he and the other two men were making and fear that the sounds were covering up any danger that may lurk ahead in the blackness.
‘I don’t like this,’ Septimus muttered. ‘What if there’s nothing here?’
‘Then there’s no grain to feed the mob. The mob gets angry and kills the Emperor and you and Narcissus are out of a job, sunshine,’ Macro replied in a low growl. ‘Bear that in mind, and keep your mouth closed, eh?’
Cato came to a halt. Macro brushed up against his back before he could stop and there was a final shuffle of Septimus’s boots before there was quiet. ‘Listen.’
At first Macro could not separate out any noise that might be of significance. Then there was the unmistakable sound of laughter from ahead, a brief snatch and then quiet again.
Cato turned in the direction of his companions, invisible in the pitch black of the tunnel. ‘Septimus, you stay here.’
‘What? Alone?’ The fear in his voice was clear. ‘Why?’
‘Calidus and I are going on ahead. When Plautus and his Germans catch up I don’t want them going any further unless I give the word. You tell him to stop and wait.’
There was a pause before Septimus’s voice quavered. ‘All right. But don’t be too long.’
Cato reached back and tugged Macro’s tunic and they edged forward even more slowly than they had advanced so far. A short distance further on they heard voices, more laughter and the shrill cry of a woman. Then there was the faintest hue of light ahead, revealing the dark outline of the tunnel as it turned to the left. The two men kept moving and soon they could see enough to light their way and no longer needed the reassurance of touching the wall. Cato lowered his hand to his sword handle and carefully drew the weapon. He heard a light dry rasp as Macro followed suit. Cato lowered himself into a crouch. His pulse quickened and his mouth felt dry. He slowed down and stopped as he came to the corner. The sound of voices, many of them, filled the tunnel now and Cato turned back and held up a hand to halt Macro who was just visible in the gloom. Then he edged a step forward and slowly looked round the corner.
The tunnel gave out on to what looked like a huge storeroom, illuminated by the flames of several braziers and torches guttering in brackets fixed to the walls. In front of the tunnel the ground was a jumble of rocks. At first Cato thought that the space must have been constructed, then he realised that it was a natural cave that had been enlarged by human hands. The walls seemed to have been cut from the rock in places to expand the size. Guttering torches in iron brackets provided enough illumination to make out the details. Great mounds of grain sacks had been piled at the far end and extended well over half the length of the cave, some hundred paces long by forty across. To one side a wide ladder climbed up to a ledge, beyond which there was a brick-lined passage that sloped upwards into the shadows.
At the near end of the cave were several tables and benches at which sat thirty or forty men. There were a handful of women too, in short tunics that reached just below their buttocks. Their faces were powdered white and dark kohl had been crudely applied around their eyes. To one side was a table longer than the rest. At its head sat Cestius, with a plump red-haired girl sitting on his lap, the fingers of one hand playing with his curls as he squeezed the breast that sagged loosely out of her tunic. The toughest-looking men of his gang sat close by, drinking and laughing with their leader.
Cato gestured to Macro to join him.
‘What do they think they’re celebrating?’ Macro whispered once he had taken in the scene.
‘What do you think? They’re sitting on top of a mountain of grain in a city on the verge of starvation. They’re going to make a killing. Or someone is, and they’ll take their cut.’
They continued to watch in silence for a moment before Macro spoke again. ‘I reckon we can take ‘em. Most of them are armed with daggers. There’s a few swords, clubs and axes about the place. They look tough enough, but they’ve had a skinful of wine and that’ll take the edge off their ability to fight.’
Cato scrutinised the men in the cave. He agreed with his friend’s assessment, but they would still be outnumbered by Cestius and his gang. It would be prudent to make sure that Narcissus knew about the grain and the cave, in case the fight went against them.
‘All right, we’ll do it. But we’ll send one of the men back to report to Narcissus. Just in case.’
Macro shrugged. ‘If you think it’s necessary. Thanks to those bastards I’ve had to spend the night wading through shit. I don’t feel like being very merciful.’
‘Nevertheless, we’ll send a man back.’
They eased their way back from the corner and Cato pointed back down the tunnel to where a slight glow indicated the position of Septimus and the German bodyguards. ‘Bring ‘em up, but make sure they do it nice and quiet, and put their torches out. We’re outnumbered and we’ll need the advantage of surprise.’
Macro nodded, then turned to make his way back down the tunnel. Cato watched him briefly and then returned to the corner. He stared at Cestius, determined to take the gang leader alive. That would not be easy, Cato reflected. Cestius was a powerfully built killer who was sure to fight to the death if he could. Even so, only Cestius could answer the question that had plagued Cato ever since they had clashed in the ambush at the Forum.
The approach of Macro and the rest of the men was heralded by the light scrape of footsteps and Cato turned just in time to see the last glow of orange from the tunnel flicker out as the final torch was extinguished. The men emerged from the darkness and Macro gestured to them to fan out on either side. The Germans crept silently by and eased themselves into places of concealment behind the rocks. As quietly as they could, they drew
