The Sign of the Eagle Page 5

  Macha’s hand shot to her mouth. “The one who died in the hunting accident six weeks ago.”

  “I should have suspected it sooner. His death wasn’t an accident. Someone discovered he was my confidant.”

  “What about the list?”

  “I was arrested before I could learn where it was hidden. I gave the interrogators the names of the merchants and told them about the unnamed officers involved. The Gauls vanished before Pomponius Appius could apprehend them. They probably took the list with them. As for the officers, Appius said I was lying. I’m not─I'm being used. The interrogators said General Valens' informants had been watching me for about two months. They saw me in the company of the Gauls.”

  "Why didn't they arrest you before you went after the bandits?"

  "I don't know, they wouldn't say. Once Senator Bassus gets my release, that's one of the first things I'll learn."

  “Officers within the legion must be part of the plot," Macha said. "Don't you think Appius might be involved? He hates you. I remember you once said he complained that Vespasian didn't recognize him for his bravery in the civil war."

  Titus shook his head. "That isn't proof. There were many who fought bravely with honor who didn't get recognition. But I'll confront him when I'm out."

  "Wouldn't it make sense? Maybe he was offered a command of the legion if he betrayed you and the Emperor."

  "That's speculation, but tell the Senator and see what he thinks."

  “The Senator will help you, I’m sure,” Macha said.

  He grunted.

  “Senator Bassus will straighten out the situation. He’s upstairs speaking with General Valens right now. But I’m not idly sitting by while they try to kill you.”

  Titus frowned. “This is too dangerous for a woman to deal with. Leave it to Bassus and me.”

  Macha bristled. Silently she asked the Mother Goddess to give her patience. “Don’t you think I’m capable of taking care of myself? Or is it because I’m female and you consider this a man’s duty?”

  Taking Macha’s soft hands, Titus intertwined them through his fingers hardened by ten years riding cavalry mounts, weapons training, and war.

  “You have many talents, Macha,” Titus replied evenly, “but I’ll not see you harmed. Think of our son─he needs you.”

  “And I need you. I won't see you executed,” Macha argued. “Even with Senator Bassus’ assistance, I’m afraid not enough will be done to free you. I must try. I can go places with him I couldn’t go alone.”

  “You’re bound to run afoul of our enemies.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll be protected.” Macha looked into Titus’s eyes. They seemed to say what she felt. A tingling sensation filled her, and spread through her limbs, leaving her breathless. She pulled herself away.

  “No, darling, I can’t”

  “Why not?” Titus unwound his fingers from hers and gripped her shoulders.

  “It’s not right, not in this awful place. I can’t think about that while you are in here. My mind is fixed on setting you free. I’m sorry, my love, but until you are, nothing else matters.” Macha pulled away, turned, and called for the turnkey. She refused to look back at Titus lest he see her tears.

  Chapter 6

  Courtyard Revelations

  Macha sat brooding on an oakwood bench in the hallway near the entrance to General Valens’s office at the Principia when Senator Bassus stepped outside.

  His footfalls grew heavier with each approaching step. His face appeared somber when he found her. “Macha, I have bad news.”

  She sprang to her feet nearly losing the palla wrapped around her shoulders. “Couldn’t you do anything for Titus?”

  “Your husband's situation is impossible.” Slowly Bassus shook his head as he halted before Macha. “Personally, I’m not convinced by General Valens so-called evidence, but under military law, it is enough to hold Titus for a court-martial on charges of treason and conspiracy.”

  Astonished, Macha hardly breathed. She swallowed, heat rushing across her cheeks.

  “Treason? How can that be? He’s innocent!”

  “I’ll explain on the way out,” Bassus answered.

  Macha and Bassus walked in silence through the long crosshall adjacent to General Valens’s office. The drafty building opened onto a dusty courtyard where the legion commander addressed the troops from a raised tribunal during muster. They trekked by the entrance of the Legionary chapel, passing two muscular, six-foot legionaries posted in front of the entrance, bordered by a wrought iron gate. Dazed, she barely registered the life-like images of Mars, Minerva, and the lucky twins, Castor and Pollux, adorning the three inside walls. A tall bronze statue of Emperor Vespasian stood on a pedestal, wearing a general’s uniform, arms outstretched before the legion standards. They were dominated by a proud golden eagle, Rome’s symbol of power, mounted on a hardwood pole, its wings outstretched, gripping a thunderbolt in its talons. A trap door, set in the wooden floor near the base of the statue, led to the basement. Macha remembered Titus had said the legion bank and payroll were stored there, locked in an iron bound wooden chest.

  Bassus spoke in a low voice when no one was within hearing. “One of General Valens informers found Titus in company of two Gauls known to be displeased with the Emperor’s new taxes.”

  Macha paused as they turned into the courtyard surrounded by a pillared veranda. A dozen official bulletins plastered the nearest wall. “Titus was trying to get proof to present to General Valens. I don’t understand why the General trusts informers. They’re the rubbish of the earth. They’ll lie about anything for money or revenge.”

  “Informers are a scummy lot,” Bassus agreed, “but unfortunately, General Valens believed them. The information they possessed was enough to incriminate Titus.”

  She leaned toward Bassus as they continued to walk. “What information? The merchants fled Mediolanum.”

  “They didn’t take their slaves. General Valens’s interrogators questioned them as the law prescribes.”

  A chill shot through Macha’s body, as she understood what he meant. “I know it’s lawful, but torture is a horrible way to extract a confession. Wouldn’t you say anything to prevent your legs from being ripped from your sockets, or worse?”

  They approached the courtyard entrance. A bored sentry snapped to attention upon Bassus’s approach and saluted.

  Bassus acknowledged the guard, then answered Macha’s question, “I know what you’re saying. But two of them confessed to overhearing that Titus was the leader of the conspiracy.”

  Macha suddenly stopped. Equal to Bassus' height, she twisted around and studied his sunburnt face. A fading battle scar sliced across his broad forehead. “You know they’re lying. Did they confess about any written documents?”

  “Yes, but that was a false-truth they believed, and none have been recovered.”

  “What about the unnamed officers? Isn’t General Valens going to investigate that accusation?”

  “The slaves said nothing about officers.” He snorted. “General Valens believes Titus made it up to save his own skin.”

  “And on the word of two poor tortured slaves my husband is held to answer for treason. That’s outrageous!” She slapped the side of her leg so hard it stung.

  The Senator shook his head as they continued to walk. “I will carry on my own investigation independent of General Valens, but for now Titus will remain in custody. When it comes to charges of treason, even with my authority I can’t get Titus released. I’m sorry, Macha.”

  Furious, she bolted ahead of Bassus. She didn’t place much faith in his independent investigation. So far he had failed to win her husband’s release. Bassus had been a family friend for many years, but now Macha felt betrayed. As far as she was concerned, he had only made a half-hearted attempt to free Titus.

  Macha bitterly recalled how her father, Caratacus, had spared Bassus life. He was a young centurion, during the early days of the Roman invasion of Britannia, and hi
s cohort had marched into a trap set by the king and his army. They were surrounded and destroyed, leaving a blood smeared Bassus the sole survivor. Encircled by a pile of dead Roman legionaries and Celtic warriors, Bassus stood in a defensive crouch defiantly brandishing his bloodied short sword expecting to be slain at any moment. Instead, Caratacus allowed him to live because he admired his courage. He sent Bassus back to Roman headquarters with a warning that if Rome failed to withdraw its forces from Britannia, he would destroy them all.

  Rome did stay and Caratacus was defeated. But Bassus never forgot Caratacus’s clemency and befriended her father after his capture and pardon by the Emperor Claudius. Now, it seemed to Macha, that Bassus no longer valued his friendship for her family, as if Titus’s life no longer mattered. She was alone, and it would be up to her to find a way to exonerate her husband. But...could it be her husband was guilty? She shook her head. No! It isn't possible, not Titus. He is too loyal. She put the idea out of her mind.

  Bassus followed Macha at a brisk pace. The day was growing warmer and a trickle of sweat rolled down the side of Macha’s neck. Outside the courtyard, they found the carriage waiting on the cobbled stone street next to the buttressed and walled granary.

  “Didn’t you speak to Titus’s friends—his fellow officers?” Macha asked when Bassus caught up. “Didn’t you speak to my brother-in-law?”

  “I did. Rufus protested Titus’s innocence to General Valens, and was rebuffed. The General had threatened to detain him for questioning, to see if he was involved with the conspiracy.”

  “That’s terrible. He’s one officer I’m sure had no part of it.”

  “I agree,” Bassus said. He brushed aside the slave footman and assisted Macha into the white canopied wagon drawn by two matching bay horses. She collapsed upon the cushioned seat.

  “When I learned about this,” Bassus continued, “I warned Valens I would relieve him of his post as legion commander if he further abused his power. He knows I have the right as Legate and representative of the Emperor. It was then he revealed his evidence against Titus.”

  “Oh, Mother Goddess!” Macha turned away attempting to hold back the welling tears. This wasn’t the time to lose her composure. She couldn’t. She took a deep breath and wiped the moisture from her eyes with a jasmine scented handkerchief.

  “What is Falco’s and Appius’s involvement?” Macha asked in a voice little more than a whisper. “Falco said he was at Titus’s interrogation, and Appius brought me the news.”

  “Falco told you the truth. He acted as a witness verifying the interrogation was conducted legally. Appius had nothing to do with the arrest or questioning. General Valens deemed it appropriate you should be informed by a senior officer.”

  Macha told Bassus that Appius was sent because General Valens didn’t want someone, such as her brother-in-law, who was related to a Gaul, to bring her the message. “His personal contempt for foreigners was all too obvious,” Macha added.

  Bassus stepped back from the wagon’s side, looking up at Macha. “That’s not the proper way to handle a case. Titus’s family origins shouldn’t have anything to with the investigation.”

  Macha agreed. “Falco has more than just an interest in justice. He seems only too eager for my husband’s death.”

  He narrowed his chestnut eyes. “What are you talking about?”

  She reminded Bassus of Falco’s avowed intentions towards her after he had escorted her home the night before.

  "I don't care if he is having an affair with Pollia, that's her problem," Bassus said. “But that womanizer must stay away from you, even if I have to order him.”

  A frown erupted across Macha’s bowed lips. “No, Senator, not yet. I don't want him to know that I told you. But gods forbid, if Titus were executed, the state would confiscate everything—I would be left with nothing. Falco thinks I would eagerly fly to his arms for security; he’s badly mistaken.”

  “That won’t happen.” Bassus shook his balding head. “As your patron, I won’t allow him to touch you. Despite your protest, if he comes near you, I will transfer him to a garrison on the Lower Danubus River, the outer reaches of the Empire. In the meantime, although you may not understand Titus’s confinement, don’t go near the stockade.”

  Macha’s eyes flared with sudden anger. “I understand his confinement better than you will ever know! His cell is smaller than the one I spent time in as a child in Tullianum Prison. I may be freer than I was at seven, but I’m still confined to a woman’s place in this Roman world. I’ve never tasted the freedoms enjoyed by my Celtic sisters in Britannia—but I will!”

  Chapter 7

  Death at the Stables

  As she returned from the garrison on this unusually hot day, choking clouds of dust, churned by the carriage bouncing along the country road, permeated Macha’s clothing and skin. She needed a relaxing bath to cool both her body and her anger. Even though Bassus didn’t seem convinced by General Valens’s evidence, Titus still remained imprisoned. She was certain the allegations were fabricated

  Assisted from the carriage at the front of her house, Macha passed through the entryway into the atrium. She told a slave sweeping the mosaic floor to fetch Edain.

  No sooner had the slave departed than the light sound of children’s clattering footsteps echoed beyond the far end of the atrium. Seconds later young Titus rushed in with Nicanor’s son, Demetrios, trailing behind him.

  “Mama! Mama! Nicanor’s dead!”

  Tears stained Demetrios’ pale face. The ten-year-old sniffled and wiped them away with a grubby hand. When he noticed Macha watching, he lowered his head.

  Shocked, Macha stood still for a moment, unable to speak. Macha grabbed Titus by his scarred little hands so hard he winced. “Is this one of your games?” She asked, looking him in the eye. “Death is serious.”

  “No, Mama, it’s true—Demetrios told me.” Nicanor’s son lingered a few paces distant, fidgeting with his homespun tunic. He snuffled and then wiped the tears running down his narrow face. He was a little bigger than Titus, and brighter than most boys his age, almost as articulate as an adult.

  “Where is your father’s body?”

  “In the stables, Mistress,” the boy answered in a quivering voice, averting Macha’s eyes.

  Oh, the poor little boy, she thought. He must be in shock. He lost his mother two years ago, and now his father. Still it was strange. Nicanor seldom went to the stables. “Do you know how he died?” Macha asked.

  Demetrios gulped loudly, sniffled again and wiped his nose on the sleeve of his tunic. “They…they beat his head with clubs—a lot.”

  Spiny bumps like a back bone rose on her arms. Why would anyone kill Nicanor? Was this somehow related to Titus' arrest? She wheeled, taking a step in the direction of the barn, but stopped. She couldn’t rush to the barn without obtaining some details. It was her duty as mistress of the house to learn the truth no matter how much Nicanor’s death pained her. She still couldn’t believe it was true, that this gentle good man was murdered. He had never harmed a soul.

  Not wanting to frighten or alarm the boys, Macha steeled herself to remain cool. She stooped, softly placing both hands on Demetrios’ little shoulders.

  “Who told you he was beaten to death?”

  The muscles in his face tightened. A few seconds later he blinked back the tears and wiped his face on his sleeve. He bit his lip and shook his head. “I…I watched it. I wanted to stop them, but I was afraid.”

  “You poor boy.” Macha gave Demetrios a tight hug. His hair and clothing smelled of moldy straw. She wanted to hold him until all his pain vanished. Mother Goddess, she hated having to ask him questions in his time of grief.

  “Did you tell anyone else about this?” she asked.

  He croaked. “No, Mistress. My papa said I could only trust you.”

  “But you could trust me,” Titus interjected.

  “I’m sure he does, son,” Macha said. “But this is very serious. I’m the one wh
o must ask the questions.” Macha sighed. Demetrios may be right, she thought. Who, in the household, could he trust?

  “Who did this to your father?” Macha asked softly, releasing Demetrios and stepping back half a pace.

  He shook his head. “I don’t know. They were two real big men.”

  “Did you ever see them before?”

  “No,” he answered, nearly choking on the word.

  “Where did they go?” Macha’s eyes scanned the area around the atrium.

  “They ran for the gully behind the stables.”

  “Where did they leave your father?”

  “In Apollo’s stall,” Demetrios answered.

  Macha understood. Apollo, her half-trained, half-wild stallion would take the blame for Nicanor’s death. Only Macha, Titus, and the trainer, Juba, could enter the stall without risking injury. Others he bit and kicked, only because he was cornered and couldn’t escape.

  “Did these men carry your father into Apollo’s stall?”

  He snuffled. “No. They…they lifted him over…over the stall door and threw him in.” Again Demetrios wiped the tears flowing down his cheeks. “I heard them say they wanted to make it look like he was trampled to death.”

  “Does anyone else know?”

  “I don’t think so,” Demetrios, replied. “No…nobody was there. I…I ran and told Titus right away. I knew he would tell you.” Although fidgeting, and stepping from one foot to the other, Macha’s son smiled at the compliment. He remained silent, as Macha had taught him not to interrupt when she was speaking.

  “When did this happen?” Macha asked.

  Demetrios stammered. “I…I don’t know. I didn’t think about time—I was too scared.”

  “Would you say less than a half hour ago?”

  He thought for a few seconds. “I think so.”

  The assassins must be long gone. Macha stood and again her eyes searched the reception room. No one lurked about. Still, that didn’t guarantee their conversation hadn’t been overheard. She faced Nicanor’s son.