and he licked his lips and fixed his gaze on Cato once again.
‘Did you meet any of the other conspirators?’
Cestius was silent for a moment before he responded. ‘Not among the Liberators.’
Cato leant forward. ‘Then who else?’
Cestius ignored the question and asked one of his own. ‘Who are you working for, Praetorian? Not the Liberators. I know that. Your master is in the imperial household, I’d guess.’
Cato said nothing.
‘Which means Pallas … or Narcissus.’
‘I have one more question,’ Cato said. ‘About the day your gang attacked the imperial party in the Forum. How did you know we were going to be there?’
‘It was planned from the outset. I was paid to have my lads provoke the food riot …’ Cestius began to breathe raggedly. ‘Once it was in full swing we were to stand by to ambush the Emperor and his escort … Would have killed our targets too, if you and your friend there hadn’t got in the way.’
Cato felt his heart quicken. ‘Targets? The Emperor and his family?’
Cestius shook his head. ‘The Empress and her son.’
‘Just them?’ Cato felt a cold tingle at the base of his neck.
‘Yes.’
‘No one else? Are you certain?’
‘He was quite clear about it … Just Agrippina and Nero.’
‘Who? Who gave you the order?’
Cestius winced and sucked in a long shallow breath. Cato reached forward and shook his shoulder roughly.
‘Who paid you to do it? Tell me!’
Cestius licked his dry lips again and this time there was blood in his spittle. A thick dark drop trickled down his chin as he replied. ‘A man from the palace. I’ve done jobs for him before. Made people disappear. Put the frighteners on others. Kind of thing I do well.’ Cestius smiled with pride.
‘Enemies of the Emperor?’
‘Not always.’
‘What was his name?’ Cato demanded.
‘Don’t know. Wasn’t part of the arrangement. He just paid me to do what his master needed done, and not ask questions.’
Cato hissed with frustration. ‘Well, what did he look like? The man who gave you your instructions?’
Cestius shrugged. ‘Just a man. Your build. Few years older …’
‘What else?’ Cato snapped. ‘Any scars, anything to make him stand out?’
‘Yes … A mark, a tattoo here.’ Cestius reached up and touched his neck just below the ear.
Cato felt his blood grow cold and he heard Macro swear softly. ‘What kind of tattoo?’
Cestius thought briefly. ‘Only saw it clearly one time. Once, when we met in the public baths. A crescent moon and star …’
Cato knew at once where he had seen the distinctive mark before, the day they had arrived in Rome.
‘That’s Septimus – has to be,’ Macro muttered to Cato. ‘Septimus? What the hell is going on?’
Cato’s mind was filled with a jumble of recollected images and lines of thought that had seemed confusing or came to a dead end. Now they fell into place, one by one. There was a conspiracy lurking in the shadows even deeper than that being hatched by the Liberators. A monstrous scheme that left Cato marvelling at its brilliant deviousness even as it repulsed him and made him aware for the first time of the scale of the deception that both he and Macro, among many others, had been enduring for years. He stood up quickly and turned to his friend.
‘We have to get back to the palace at once. We must find Narcissus.’
‘Narcissus?’
By the dying flickers of the torch in the sand, Cato looked at his friend intently. ‘We’ve been duped. There’s more than one plot against the Emperor. I suspected there might be. But there’s something else. We have to go, Macro. Now.’
Cestius chuckled.
‘What’s so damned funny?’ asked Macro.
‘Just agreeing with your friend there. Now would be a good time to act.’
Cato rounded on him. ‘Why?’
‘Last word I had from Sinius was that I should be ready to move the grain back to the warehouse first thing tomorrow.’
‘Tomorrow?’ Cato’s brow creased. ‘Then whatever the Liberators are planning is going to happen tonight …’ His guts were seized by an icy dread. ‘Shit, they’re going to try to kill the Emperor tonight. We have to go, now!’
As Cato turned towards the public entrance there was a plaintive groan as Cestius stirred and raised a bloodied hand. ‘Wait! You promised me a quick death, Praetorian.’
‘So I did.’ Cato turned back and briefly stared down at the gang leader before tossing his dagger down into the sand behind him. ‘There. You’ve used one on other men, striking them from the shadows. Now use it on yourself, if you have the guts.’
Cato began to run towards the public entrance and Macro followed him across the sand.
‘Oi! Oi, you!’ One of the Circus staff called after them. ‘You can’t leave him here! Oi! I’m talking to you!’
The man ran a few paces after the two figures receding into the gloom and then stopped. There was a short grunt from the direction of the imperial box and then a long expiring sigh. By the time he turned to see what had happened, the mortally wounded giant had slumped over on to his side and lay still, the handle of a dagger protruding from his chest.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
By the flickering glow of the same oil lamp they had used to light their way out of the imperial palace Cato and Macro emerged from the secret tunnel leading towards the Circus Maximus. Macro shook his head as he considered the situation.
‘I don’t get it. Why would Narcissus want Nero and Agrippina killed?’
Cato cautiously tried the door that Narcissus had led them to two hours earlier. It was still unlocked and he eased it open and peered out into the chamber where the fuel was stored for the palace’s main bathhouse. Neatly stacked logs lined the walls. Cato waited a moment but there was no sound or sign of movement, so he beckoned to Macro to follow him. ‘Think about it, Macro. After all, you should know the answer.’
‘Don’t play cute,’ Macro grumbled. ‘Just tell me.’
‘It was you who saw Agrippina and Pallas together, remember?’
‘How could I forget? The wife of our Emperor in the paws of some greasy little Greek freedman is hardly an edifying sight.’
‘Quite.’ Cato smiled. ‘Nevertheless, there’s no avoiding the truth. Agrippina has taken Pallas as a lover. His fortune is linked to hers, and that of her son. Pallas is positioning himself for the day when Claudius puts in his application for divinity. If, as looks likely, Nero becomes the new Emperor then Pallas would be in a very powerful position as the lover of Agrippina.’
‘Obviously,’ Macro sighed.
‘So where do you think that leaves Narcissus?’
Macro paused midstride. ‘Wait, are you saying he’d dare to make an attempt on the son of the empress?’
‘Why not? It’s the most sensible thing to do. If he just killed Pallas, then Agrippina would be sure to find herself a new lover soon enough and then Narcissus is back to square one. If he kills Nero, then Britannicus will have no rival for the throne and Agrippina’s influence will diminish, and Pallas’s fortunes along with hers. Of
