restrained by a firm grip on his sleeve. He turned to find Qadir standing behind him, the Hamian shaking his head in admonishment. He leaned close, speaking quietly in the Roman’s ear.
‘Since your friend Rufius died you have lacked a man to restrain you from those dark impulses that will be the ruin of everything you have left in this world. In the absence of a man with whose opinion you will readily agree, allow me to present the next best thing.’ He bowed slightly. ‘Your friend, who would rather see you grow to your full potential in the shadows than burn fiercely for a short time, but in doing so attract the attention of powerful men. And not only to himself.’
The Roman nodded slowly, his anger subsiding to a dull ache in the pit of his stomach.
‘Thank you. The tribune wants our man off the grain cart. Do you think he’ll . . .’
‘Our man is already dead. The wound was too severe. I have placed the coin between his lips, and asked our comrades to place him upon his horse with whatever dignity we can give him.’
A wan, wry smile touched Marcus’s lips momentarily.
‘As well that you restrained me, then. I would have chinned that aristocratic fool to no purpose.’
Qadir smiled back at him darkly.
‘“Chinned?” I’ll wager you didn’t learn that at some philosophy tutor’s knee.’
His friend shook his head.
‘No, I was gifted the term by the freed gladiator my father employed to train me to fight with bare knuckles, in readiness for that time when there’s no other choice. Every fallen son of privilege should have had one. Now, let’s gather our dead and get back to Tungrorum.’ He opened his clenched fist, revealing a handful of the tainted grain. ‘I think Tribune Scaurus is going to be interested in this.’
3
Forewarned by a rider sent on ahead by Marcus, Scaurus was waiting at the west gate with Julius when the small party of riders led by his centurion shepherded their captives into the city.
‘More prisoners for your cells, eh, Procurator? We’ll have to have a meeting as to what to do with them all.’
Albanus snorted derisively.
‘You can crucify the lot of them here and now as far as I’m concerned.’
Marcus climbed down from his horse, allowing a soldier to lead the big animal away. He snapped out a smart salute to the two men, giving Scaurus a significant look as he reached into his pouch for a tablet.
‘Excuse me, sir, but I carry
instructions
from Tribune Belletor. The tribune is following us in with four cart loads of grain that these bandits intercepted eight miles to the east of the city, presumably from one of the local farms although most of the men who were bringing it here were murdered by the bandits. Most of it seems to have been spoiled by mould. He instructed me to escort these prisoners to the city’s slave quarters and place them under guard there, to await being claimed by their owners.’
Scaurus raised an eyebrow at Albanus.
‘Does that sound right to you, Procurator? These men are bandits. They were caught in the act, I presume, Centurion?’ Marcus nodded. ‘And therefore their lives are forfeit. I find my colleague’s idea that the protection of private property should come before the administering of justice more than a little surprising.’
Albanus shrugged, as if the matter was of little interest to him.
‘Their lives are indeed in the empire’s hands, Tribune. Whether the empire then chooses simply to take their lives or return them to their rightful owners for a lengthier punishment is a topic for further discussion. For the time being you must do with them whatever you feel best. My priority now is to ensure the safe receipt and storage of the recovered grain.’ He turned to Marcus. ‘Tell me, Centurion, were there any survivors from the carters from whom the theft was made?’
‘One sir. He managed to escape the initial attack, and then ran for his life.’
The procurator pursed his lips.
‘Just one? A lucky man,
‘Since your friend Rufius died you have lacked a man to restrain you from those dark impulses that will be the ruin of everything you have left in this world. In the absence of a man with whose opinion you will readily agree, allow me to present the next best thing.’ He bowed slightly. ‘Your friend, who would rather see you grow to your full potential in the shadows than burn fiercely for a short time, but in doing so attract the attention of powerful men. And not only to himself.’
The Roman nodded slowly, his anger subsiding to a dull ache in the pit of his stomach.
‘Thank you. The tribune wants our man off the grain cart. Do you think he’ll . . .’
‘Our man is already dead. The wound was too severe. I have placed the coin between his lips, and asked our comrades to place him upon his horse with whatever dignity we can give him.’
A wan, wry smile touched Marcus’s lips momentarily.
‘As well that you restrained me, then. I would have chinned that aristocratic fool to no purpose.’
Qadir smiled back at him darkly.
‘“Chinned?” I’ll wager you didn’t learn that at some philosophy tutor’s knee.’
His friend shook his head.
‘No, I was gifted the term by the freed gladiator my father employed to train me to fight with bare knuckles, in readiness for that time when there’s no other choice. Every fallen son of privilege should have had one. Now, let’s gather our dead and get back to Tungrorum.’ He opened his clenched fist, revealing a handful of the tainted grain. ‘I think Tribune Scaurus is going to be interested in this.’
3
Forewarned by a rider sent on ahead by Marcus, Scaurus was waiting at the west gate with Julius when the small party of riders led by his centurion shepherded their captives into the city.
‘More prisoners for your cells, eh, Procurator? We’ll have to have a meeting as to what to do with them all.’
Albanus snorted derisively.
‘You can crucify the lot of them here and now as far as I’m concerned.’
Marcus climbed down from his horse, allowing a soldier to lead the big animal away. He snapped out a smart salute to the two men, giving Scaurus a significant look as he reached into his pouch for a tablet.
‘Excuse me, sir, but I carry
instructions
from Tribune Belletor. The tribune is following us in with four cart loads of grain that these bandits intercepted eight miles to the east of the city, presumably from one of the local farms although most of the men who were bringing it here were murdered by the bandits. Most of it seems to have been spoiled by mould. He instructed me to escort these prisoners to the city’s slave quarters and place them under guard there, to await being claimed by their owners.’
Scaurus raised an eyebrow at Albanus.
‘Does that sound right to you, Procurator? These men are bandits. They were caught in the act, I presume, Centurion?’ Marcus nodded. ‘And therefore their lives are forfeit. I find my colleague’s idea that the protection of private property should come before the administering of justice more than a little surprising.’
Albanus shrugged, as if the matter was of little interest to him.
‘Their lives are indeed in the empire’s hands, Tribune. Whether the empire then chooses simply to take their lives or return them to their rightful owners for a lengthier punishment is a topic for further discussion. For the time being you must do with them whatever you feel best. My priority now is to ensure the safe receipt and storage of the recovered grain.’ He turned to Marcus. ‘Tell me, Centurion, were there any survivors from the carters from whom the theft was made?’
‘One sir. He managed to escape the initial attack, and then ran for his life.’
The procurator pursed his lips.
‘Just one? A lucky man,
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