The Sign of the Eagle Page 3

  Macha’s thoughts snapped back when Senator Bassus turned in her direction. She must ask him now about the charges against Titus, not later. He had power and influence. If anyone could free her husband, it was Bassus.

  Chapter 3

  A Spy for Dinner

  "Senator Bassus," Macha said in a delighted voice as she moved to his side. "This is a surprise. I was hoping to see you, but didn’t expect your arrival until tomorrow.” She acknowledged her brother-in-law, Cnidius Rufus, who stood next to the Senator.

  “The survey of the Danubian garrisons went better than I expected,” Bassus replied. “It’s a pleasure to see you again. I’m sorry to hear about Titus. Rufus and I were just discussing it.”

  “Aye, the charge is unbelievable,” the tall squared-face Rufus said. “But you must be aware, Macha, that this is the third plot made against the Emperor’s life in as many years?”

  Macha shook her head. “The third? I don’t understand.”

  “Don’t you remember?” Bassus said. “Two years ago, he exiled his close friend, Helvidius Priscus, the Praetor of Rome, for treason. Last year he did the same to that loud mouth Cynic Philosopher, Demetrius, who plotted to restore the Republic.”

  Now Macha remembered—she’d given little thought to the stories—just more palace intrigue. “Why weren’t they executed?”

  “Emperor Vespasian hates to execute anyone,” Rufus, said. “He has been known to weep at the executions of common criminals.”

  For a split second Macha touched her face. “Even if Titus was guilty, and I know he isn’t, then why is he threatened with execution?”

  “The Emperor’s mercy applies only to civilians, not the army,” Bassus said. “He is a soldier’s soldier, fair but stern. He won’t hesitate to sentence a soldier to death if found guilty.”

  "Aye, it's true," Rufus said. "I witnessed the execution of five deserters three years ago when he was commanding the legions in Judea."

  “But that’s why I need your help, Senator—anything to free Titus of this terrible charge. I know he’s innocent!” As soon as she had blurted the words Macha felt like a fool. Helena was right. She should have waited until she could have spoken to Bassus privately.

  The Senator placed a finger to his lips. “Let’s not speak any further on the matter, here. I’ll pay you a visit in the morning and discuss the situation in greater detail. Then I shall begin my inquiries.” Cnidius Rufus nodded in agreement.

  “I’d be grateful.” Relieved that Bassus had offered assistance, Macha was certain he would quickly clear up the affair and obtain her husband’s freedom. As a Legate, he had the authority to override any legionary general’s orders and investigate matters such as treason. Thank Mother Goddess Anu she would not have to go to Rome.

  Rufus said in a lower voice, “Senator Bassus, if I can help you, please let me know. My brother-in-law did not betray the Emperor, I’m certain of it.”

  “You will hear from me tomorrow,” Bassus replied.

  As she approached the three, Helena said, “I hate to interrupt your little chat, but I want to introduce the Senator to Claudia, a most charming lady. After all, a widower like you can’t share a dining couch alone.”

  Rufus chuckled, shook his head, and excused himself.

  Helena whisked Bassus to the far end of the room and presented him to a handsome matron in her mid-forties.

  Macha glanced about and observed Rubellius Falco gazing in her direction. He hadn’t moved from his couch.

  Returning to Macha, Helena saw her tersely nodding at the man. “Oh, do you know Rubellius Falco?”

  “He’s a friend of Titus,” Macha answered coolly. Draping Falco’s muscular frame, a wool toga trimmed in purple denoted his membership in the Equestrian Order.

  “Since you’re both alone, I thought you wouldn’t mind sharing a couch with him.”

  Searching the area, Macha saw no space available at the other reclining seats. Each one contained enough space to comfortably hold three people. “It doesn’t seem I have much of a choice.”

  Helena pursed her lips. “You’re not fond of him, are you?”

  “I loathe the insufferable boor. He thinks he’s the gods’ gift to Venus.” Macha eyes returned to the rules of behavior on the wall. The admonishment about lustful glances reminded her of Falco. She remembered the tales related to her by Titus about Falco’s amorous adventures. She knew some of the women involved because they were wives of Roman officers. She shivered.

  Helena touched Macha’s forearm. “I’m sorry, Macha. Perhaps you would rather dine with Senator Bassus. I know he’s an old friend of yours. I’ll see if he wouldn’t mind changing places.”

  Reclining on the couch reserved for the head of the household and guest of honor, Bassus conversed with Claudia who relaxed on the adjacent couch, the same used by Pollia and Pedius.

  Macha shook her head violently. “Don’t you dare, Helena. That would embarrass Claudia, and she seems to be very charming.”

  A mischievous smile lit up Helena’s face. “Isn’t she? I think she would make him a wonderful wife.”

  Taking her time Macha walked to the corner where Falco reposed. At thirty, he was chief engineering officer of the First Legion. The gaze from his hickory eyes reminded Macha of a leopard about to pounce on its prey.

  “Good evening, Macha Carataca,” Rubellius Falco said. A wide grin crossed his olive face. “How are you this evening?”

  “Well, I suppose, considering that my husband has been accused of treason,” Macha answered. Falco's couch seated three. She was tempted to move to the far end, leaving the middle area between them empty. However, as a matter of courtesy, custom dictated she reclined next to him. She took her place, but stayed as far from Falco as the center cushions allowed. He reeked of strong wine, and the balsam scent escaping from his black wavy hair nearly gagged her.

  “I’m sorry about Titus—we all are.” He swilled a long drink of wine from a gold cup. “His fate seems to be in the hand of the gods.”

  “What do the gods have to do with it?” Macha attempted to nibble a honey cake taken from a silver-fluted plate, followed by a sip of a mild Albanian wine from a small silver goblet. Earlier she’d regained some of her appetite, but in Falco’s company it fled.

  “I only mean it appears there’s little anyone can do for him. It’s difficult to dispute confessions and documents listing conspirator’s names.”

  Sucking in her breath, Macha nearly spilled her wine. She placed the cup on the table next to her couch. “You were there?”

  “Of course, and it pained me to listen to Titus denying everything, and expounding his loyalty to the Emperor,” Falco said. “The very man he sought to overthrow.”

  “Yes, confessions by torture and forged papers—I know all about those things from father and Senator Bassus and my own experiences.” The memory of being imprisoned at the age of seven, in the filthy dungeon at Tullianum prison, when she was brought to Rome as a captive with her mother and father, was forever imbedded in her mind. She would never forget the stench, the darkness, the freezing cold, and above all else the boil-infested rats that stole her meager food. Those terrible conditions combined with the horrors of agonizing torture were enough to make anyone confess, lies though they may have been.

  Falco glanced beyond the bridge of his long nose toward the Senator’s direction. “I assure you we took every precaution to see nothing of that sort happened. Torture is reserved for slaves, not Roman officers and citizens.”

  Macha tried to regain her composure. She noticed the other six guests eating their food and conversing among themselves, oblivious to her and Falco. She took another sip of wine from the goblet poured from a blue glass decanter formed in the image of a side of grapes. “You said confessions. Who else confessed?”

  “That’s information I’m not at liberty to divulge.”

  She glared. “How many times must I hear the same answer? I’m told there are other conspirators. Are they soldiers
or civilians or both? There are many ambitious generals who have their eyes on the throne.”

  “Most perceptive, but I can’t tell you.”

  “Then I am right. There are others. Titus is only a Tribune, a junior officer. He has nothing to gain from this, but what were you doing there?”

  As if it were obvious, Falco held out his left hand, palm up. “To witness the questioning and report that it was conducted in the legal manner prescribed by the Laws of the Twelve Tables.”

  Macha wanted to laugh in his face. The edicts established to protect citizen’s rights by the ancient institution were violated on a regular basis by the Imperial government. “Who uncovered the so-called conspiracy?”

  “I’m not allowed to reveal the details, but the plot was real enough. Unfortunately, Titus, my best friend, was involved.”

  Macha laughed snidely. "Titus is your best friend? Surely, you are joking?"

  "I wouldn't joke about something like that." Falco scrutinized the manicured nails on his left hand and turned to Macha.

  “I don’t believe for one minute he is guilty,” Macha said. “The evidence obtained is fraudulent!”

  “I assure you it is not.”

  Macha wasn’t about to tell him that if anybody was willing to search for the truth, it was she. Macha had no doubt he would try to stop her efforts. She couldn’t understand why everything was clouded in secrecy. There should have been nothing to hide if the conspiracy against the Emperor had been uncovered. Something was missing.

  “Since you’re involved with the investigation,” Macha said her eyes studying Falco, “why did you come to this dinner? I’d think Helena wouldn’t want you present.”

  “She invited me because I’m friend of both Titus and Rufus. In the meantime,” Falco added, “we should enjoy the food and entertainment. Rufus has imported exotic dancers from Egypt.”

  * * * * *

  Macha barely tasted her food. Titus’s confinement and the real purpose of Falco’s presence at Helena’s dinner filled her mind. No doubt he was there as a spy, and Helena had no choice but to invite him. Macha must be cautious with her words around Falco. He was here to uncover any additional treasonous acts or conversations. Gods forbid if he linked Rufus to the conspiracy. Had he heard Rufus’ offer to Bassus to assist in the investigation? She prayed he didn’t. Then Helena would be in the same predicament as she.

  Falco’s closeness to her on the dining couch became more revolting with each passing minute. The more wine he drank, the more he reeked. It nearly overpowered the fragrant aroma of the dishes being served by Edain and Helena’s slaves.

  As Macha gazed across the couch towards Helena and Rufus, she caught Pollia glancing at Falco. She gave him a nearly imperceptible nod in the direction of the courtyard. No one but Macha seemed to notice. She wondered if it was only her imagination, but then Falco excused himself mumbling something about going to the privy. A minute later, Pollia did the same. Was something going on between those two? Perhaps, having an affair? Given Falco’s reputation, she wouldn’t be surprised. It was really none of her business. Still she was curious—nosy was more like it. From where did they know each other? Were they previously acquainted? She needed answers.

  Macha excused herself and found Nicanor sitting alone on a padded bench in the nearby waiting room for entertainers. He was on his feet the moment she entered the room. “Is it time already?” Nicanor asked. “I didn’t know it was so late.”

  “There’s still time,” Macha said. She glanced to the door and back to him. “Nicanor, I need your help. They might become suspicious if I stay away from the triclinium too long.

  “May I ask, whom you are talking about?”

  “Tribune Falco and Mistress Pollia.”

  “Does this have something to do with them?”

  “Yes. I want you to quietly proceed to the courtyard. I believe that’s where they went. Keep to the shadows, but see if you can spot those two together. Get as close as you can without being discovered and listen to what they are saying. If they sound like lovers, leave them be and return to the waiting room.”

  Nicanor nodded.

  “But if it sounds more serious,” Macha continued, “I don’t know exactly what, stay as long as you dare right up until the moment before your recital begins. I want to know what is going on between those two.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  Macha eyed Nicanor’s musical instrument. “Take your lyre along. If they see you, act as if you were returning from the privy.”

  “But if they discover me won’t they think I am spying for you?”

  “Tell them you were waiting for one of the serving women and were not aware of their presence until just a few seconds earlier. Offer your humble apology.”

  “What if they don’t believe me?”

  “Tell them I gave you permission to see Edain.

  Nicanor raised a hand as if in protest.

  She gave him a mischievous smirk. “You needn’t look surprised; I know you two are lovers. You were waiting for her, and I’ll confirm it.”

  Of course, Pollia and Falco might not believe her, but at the moment, she couldn’t think of anything better.

  A slight grin crossed Nicanor’s lips.

  “You’ll wait until we return home before telling me what you’ve learned, if anything,” Macha said. “When we leave here, you’ll walk with Edain and the litter bearers as usual. Don’t say a word to anyone about Pollia and Falco.”

  “I understand, Mistress.” He bowed and hurried toward the courtyard.

  * * * * *

  Falco and Pollia hadn’t returned to the triclinium until just before the beginning of Nicanor’s recital. Falco resumed his place on the couch with Macha but made no indication he was aware that he and Pollia had been spied upon.

  A few hours later, when the meal was finished and the performers had departed, the gathering began to break up. Quickly, Macha cleaned her hands and face with a damp towel.

  As she rose to leave, Falco staggered to his feet and followed her to the doorway of the triclinium. “May I see you home, Lady Carataca?”

  Macha gave him a withering look. “Why?” Did he know she sent Nicanor to spy on Pollia and him? Nonsense.

  “It isn’t wise for a woman to travel home unescorted,” Falco answered. “Bandits abound the streets this time of night.”

  “My slaves provide sufficient protection, thank you.”

  Falco snorted. “Slaves are unreliable; they run at the slightest hint of danger.”

  “Mine are very loyal, and I carry a dagger,” Macha said. She patted a fold in her mantle, wrapped about her head and shoulders, and braced herself against the cold night air. She straightened her back and unflinchingly stared at Falco. “Every British woman can use one as skillfully as a man. My father taught me well.”

  Bassus turned in Macha’s direction and excused himself from Claudia. “Is everything all right, Macha?” He took a few steps in her direction.

  “Yes, Senator Bassus, just fine.”

  “I was offering to escort Lady Macha home, Senator,” Falco said.

  “I told him I didn’t need an escort,” Macha answered.

  Bassus viewed Falco with a look of disapproval. “I would be more than happy to provide one.”

  “Thank you, Senator, but I can manage.”

  “Very well, I shall see you tomorrow.” He returned to Claudia’s side.

  “I have to pass by your home on the way to the legion camp, anyway,” Falco said. “Would you mind if I accompanied you that far?”

  “If you want, but don’t think you can go any further.”

  “What else would I ask?”

  Ignoring him, she thought, Anything you can get away with.

  * * * * *

  Macha, her ten slaves, and Falco arrived at the front of her home a short time later.

  As a slave assisted Macha from her litter, she was alerted to Falco’s approach on his gray roan. The squeaking noises from ridin
g on a leather saddle and jangle of bronze ornaments hanging from the gelding’s breastplates and straps echoed in the darkness. As Macha was about to turn and walk to the house, he reined up before her, dipped his head, and locked his watery eyes upon her.

  “May I come in for a moment? Perhaps for a little conversation and wine before going home?” he asked.

  The twin torch lights illuminating the tall mahogany doorway cast Falco’s face in a ghostly light, and reminded Macha of a demon from a terrible nightmare.

  “I beg your pardon,” Macha said icily. “I warned you before not to get any ideas. I’m a married woman.”

  Falco grinned, his strong alcoholic breath hanging in the air like sweat. “But that was earlier; I thought you might change your mind.”

  “I haven’t. It wouldn’t be proper for me to invite you into my house, especially when my husband is imprisoned.” She moved away.

  “What happens when he’s dead?”

  Macha swung around and glared at Falco. “He won’t die—he’s innocent!”

  “What if you’re wrong? You’ll need somebody to look after you and your son.” Falco’s eyes narrowed. “Remember, he’ll forfeit all his property.”

  “What are you suggesting?”

  “Nothing at this moment, dear lady, only facts. The widow of a traitor is no better than a beggar! Think about it. If you change your mind let me know.” Falco turned his mount and rode into the darkness.

  With the exception of Edain, Macha dismissed the slaves, who headed down the pathway for their quarters. As she and her hand-maiden turned to enter the house, Nicanor moved away from the litter bearers and hurried to her side.