Chapter 13

“He’s the son of a local craftsman who we think might be the ringleader of this little band,” Ramirus was saying as she walked into the room.

Lucilla had been woken after only an hour of sleep and taken into her father’s audience chamber, to find him, several key senators and Faenius already there, although each looking as raggedly tired as she felt. The push both by Faenius to get the praetorians in place of the city guard and Ramirus to find the insurrectionists behind the attempt on her life had led to several nights of late meetings. They had only finished up their last conversation two hours previously.

“I’m sorry to have roused you, my lady,” Ramirus said when he noticed her enter the room. “Your father thought that, as the Consul’s appointed agent, you should be here for this.”

“My father is right, of course. Don’t apologize,” She said. “Just tell us what’s happened.”

“I received information yesterday afternoon that my agents have been tracking down all day. Early last night we took the guardsman we believed behind the orders to clear the area around Senator Norbanus’s murder and where the attempt on your life occurred. After several hours of questioning, we got the names of his contacts inside what looks to be the cell of men behind it. Further arrests and interrogations suggest there are multiple such cells working independently in town, and only their leader, a marble carver named Decius Sestius Gorgonius, knew the names of men in the other cells. We didn’t get his name until very late, and he was able to catch wind of the raids and escape before we got to him. His son was injured in a clash with the praetorians chasing Decius, and was taken captive, but will not say where he went.”

“Do you have any thoughts on where he might be going?”

“I think he was leaving the city, heading north. We are trying to track through people he knew and had business with, to see if any of them have homes that way, maybe a farm or a villa outside of town, but it will take time to come up with a list and start searching.”

“Is it reasonable to assume a man capable of leading a cell and murdering a senator would stay very long, knowing you’d be doing that very thing?” The Emperor asked.

“No, and I don’t think he will. If I had to guess, I’d say he’d try to make for one of the smaller cities. We’re also looking into possible connections he’d have with other towns and businesses. As a marble craftsman, he’d know people closer to the quarries near the border. If he went anywhere, he’d go there.”

“Unless he were smart enough to know you’d follow that line of reasoning,” Lucilla said.

“Maybe, but being on the run isn’t just about avoiding the people chasing you. If you’re a wanted man, especially one with little access to resources and money, you’d have to still acquire lodging to get off the streets, someone to help supply you with food and other necessities, and probably a way of getting outside news, especially if you were the local leader of a rebellion against the Emperor. All that requires contacts and means picking a random city on a map might not help.”

“Could he be going south, towards the Carthaginians like...” Faenius started to say and then paused, his eyes darting towards the Emperor.

“Like my son, you mean,” the Emperor supplied.

“Yes. Forgive me, Princeps. I don’t mean to open wounds, but it must be considered.”

“Rightfully so. I have never been the sort to crucify a man for asking questions; especially those that I must hear, regardless of how uncomfortable they may be,” he said to the praetorian commander, before turning his attention back to Ramirus. “Could he try and follow my son?”

“Perhaps, but it would be foolhardy. From everything we can find, Decius is a man used to the finer things in life. He hasn’t spent much time outside of the city, except to visit marble quarries, which he does rarely and in style when forced to. He’s not going to be able to cut cross country, make it through both our and the Carthaginian lines, and safely to Londinium. Your son spent a fair amount of time with the legion on campaign and left while the legions were fully occupied engaging each other. Since the Carthaginian scout was found, Velius has dramatically increased the number of patrols to the south, in attempts to keep the Carthaginians as much in the dark about our plans as possible. I’ve already sent word to him to increase his patrols along the border. If he goes that way, I’m positive we’ll get him.”

“And if he doesn’t?” Lucilla asked.

“We’ll still get him, but it may take longer, and potentially not before he can cause more problems.”

“What about the men you caught?”

“We still have questions for them, but by this point, we’ve normally gotten everything useful we can get out of them. Anything they haven’t told us by now, they probably won’t.”

“Bring them here,” the Emperor commanded.

“Are you sure that’s wise?” Ramirus asked, almost apologetically. “These are men actively engaged in destroying your government. They are dangerous.”

“I have my own guards, the commander of the praetorians here, and they are unarmed. Are you suggesting they are still likely to be able to reach me while in chains, let alone harm me?”

“It is unlikely, Princeps, but considering the damage they have wrought already, I just suggest caution.”

“Then you should be cautious. Bring them in,” he said, his tone making it clear he did not want to say the request a third time.

Ramirus nodded and left. Lucilla, her father, and his assembled advisors waited in silence for the spymaster’s return. Finally, Ramirus reappeared, followed by six men, each being escorted by a praetorian. The men all had various degrees of injuries, from simple bruises to bloody bandages over what were clearly serious wounds.

“None of these men are the ring leader, correct?”

“No. This one,” Ramirus said, pointing at a younger man who had one arm in a sling and a bandage over one of his eyes. “Is the son of the man we believe to be the ring leader of this group.”

“Where is your father?” The Emperor asked the young man.

In reply, the man spat on the floor, only to be knocked to his knees when the guard accompanying him slapped him across the face.

“No need for that,” the Emperor said. “If he won’t talk, he won’t. Beating him any more won’t entice him out of silence. I will ask again, however. Will you tell me where your father is?”

“I will tell you nothing,” the young man said, pushing himself back upright with his one good arm. “You are a pretender. You abdicated your throne to a demon sent from Hades himself to destroy Rome. You can burn, for all I care.”

“I see,” the Emperor said, clearly unphased by the tirade. “Lucilla, as the Consul’s assigned representative, what should be done with these men.”

“Ramirus, do you believe you’ve gotten everything you can from them?”

“I would like more time, my lady.”

“Fine. Take them back to your dungeons and continue questioning them. When you feel like you’ve done all you can, they are to be executed in the same manner as the men they still follow. No need for a show execution this time. Just take their heads and be done with them.”

To his credit, the young man didn’t flinch. Maybe he already knew this was how it had to end, or maybe he just believed in his cause so much that he didn’t care about his own life. Either way, he handled the news of his pending execution well. A part of Lucilla felt bad having ordered the death of someone like that, but only a very small part. Seeing as he was part of the group that had ordered her murder.