Chapter XXXIII

 

 

 

Petty sacrilege is punished, but sacrilege on the grand scale is given a triumphal procession. – Seneca, Letters to Lucilius

 

Antioch

 

The Via Tiberiana is rich enough in smells and colours to stimulate even the most jaundiced observer. The street traverses the centre of the Syrian capital, a cross-roads between the Hellenic East and the Roman West. Here the high and low-born of the city trade, shop, eat, and mix with foreigners representing every nation of the Mediterranean and beyond.

Today, however, the midday sun is uncomfortably warm, and Lucian is impatient with the apparent determination of the crowds to prevent him from reaching his destination. Harnuphis is not helping. As they reach the central plaza with its great Theban column, Lucian dodges a pack of stick-waving urchins pursuing a gaggle of terrified geese over the rough stone street. Harnuphis stops to entertain them by conjuring flowers from the tip of his walking staff.

The column supports an enormous bronze of Tiberius. The people of the city commissioned it to honour him for building this marvellous street, and the oval plaza at its centre that they call ‘the navel’. In the face of the statue at its apex Lucian conceives a distressing resemblance to his late father. A censorious mein is carved there that seems to say, "stop loitering and get on with it."

Thus discomposed, Lucian is nearly knocked off his feet by a trio of women carrying impossibly large bundles of freshly bleached wool. They bowl him unceremoniously out of the way, determined to reach the large all-seeing eye carved in relief at the base of the column. Insensible to any discomfort of Lucian’s, each puts down her load and kisses the eye. Resuming their burdens, they trundle down the street knocking more citizens to the four winds and disappear to the sound of oaths and curses. Lucian hardly notices them. Since Duris handed him the weathered dispatch, he has been able to think of little else. The mission he had written off is resurrected.

Claudius’ instincts about Silo were correct. The centurion’s final communication is as revealing as it is poignant. Repentius allied with Cocconas, and a legion betrayed. Better still, they have an eye witness, a Greek man of science called Polydius who can testify that Cocconas is the right-hand of Alexander. His testimony will support everything Silo has written and prove their collusion with Parthia.

That much is clear, or at least it is clear to Lucian. Others are less convinced. Reginus Ferox for one. It isn’t that he doubts what Silo wrote, but he doubts it will be enough to convince a magistrate. While the document is unambiguous, its provenance is not. It cannot be supported without further investigation. As things now stand it is Alexander’s word against theirs. They need to arrest Alexander and let the Questionarii extract the truth. Everything depends now on Ferox.

Harnuphis’ performance at an end, they resume their progress until they reach an enormous vaulted tetrapyla sheltering a crossroads. Here they turn and continue along a wide street until they reached a weathered bronze statue that proclaims the eternal glory of Seleucus the Victorious, who founded the city five hundred years earlier. Reginus Ferox waits there, looking distinctly hot and uncomfortable, Duris at his side.

"Well?" Lucian addresses himself to Ferox.

"Governor Julius declined to grant our warrant." Ferox wipes his brow with a scarf. "He is not convinced."

"You showed him Silo’s message?"

"Yes."

"And the testimony of Polydius?"

Ferox glances briefly skyward in a kind of supplication, and then back to Lucian. "What do you expect? It implicates Cornelius Repentius, a confidante of the Emperor and possibly the most powerful man in Rome next to Marcus Aurelius himself." From long habit Ferox speaks in a half-whisper, his eyes roaming the street behind Lucian. "The Governor has a family and a career. He’s not about to lay it all down on a throw of the dice, based on the evidence of, forgive me," he nods in the direction of Duris, "an Arab, a Sarmatian, a dead centurion, and a degenerate Greek of dubious loyalties.

"Furthermore, I chanced to meet Furius Victorinus. He reminded me that Alexander and his oracle have the good opinion of both the emperors. The Governor is aware of this. More to the point, he obtained his appointment through the influence of Senator Repentius."

"People have been condemned on much less," Lucian says lamely. His mind returns wistfully to the days of Libo’s governorship. He has proved unable to establish anything like the same rapport with this new governor. Worse still, Thecla’s latest reports confirms what Ferox says. Such a man will not jeopardize the position of his gens, or himself, without the most unequivocal evidence. "What is to be done?"

Ferox shakes his head. "We have permission to question Alexander, informally and without coercion. I should add that every month that goes by I find Victrix sends his instructions through you instead of the official Frumentarii, Lucianus. What are his instructions?" There is no bitterness in his voice, only the vague irritation of a man who follows orders, all the while suspecting his superiors are madmen.

"I have only just sent Silo’s news to Rome. It will be many weeks before I receive a reply," Lucian says testily. "Speaking of messages, have you interrogated Libo’s guard again, as I asked? Someone searched Libo’s suite. I know it."

"I told you, I interrogated the man myself, most thoroughly. He’s not lying. Only the lady and her servant called on Libo the night of the murder."

Panthea again. Had Lucian belief in such things, he would say this day is cursed by ill-omens. He looks past the centurion. "Where is Malorix?"

A figure steps from beneath the shadow of the colonnade. The Sarmatian stands stiffly. According to Duris there are wounds. It has been nearly a year since Lucian has seen him, and the change in his appearance is striking. Slimmer, his features are more sharply honed, his skin dusky with exposure to wind and sun. Creases at the corners of his eyes were not present when they parted at Elegia. These same eyes are brighter than he remembers, infused with an intensity, a ferocity, that seems new. Lucian extends his hand in greeting. "How does it stand with you, Decimus Malorix?"

"Well enough," he replies, ignoring the gesture.

"Cocconas?"

"He whores."

"Is he protected?"

"Since Duris and I followed him here from Parthia, he has ensconced himself in a tumbledown brothel in the artisan’s quarter. It is fortified, and he hasn’t moved."

"Messengers?

"A single messenger. To the house of Alexander the holy man. Cocconas has surrounded himself with toughs. They’ve taken over the street in front. For now, they limit themselves to drinking and prostitutes."

"Do they go out?"

"Everything is brought in. Food, drink, whores, everything. But there is something else."

"What?"

"Praetorians," Duris interjects. "They aren’t in uniform, but Timon recognises some of them. They cover the streets that give access to the villa."

Lucian is learning to respect Alexander’s intelligence network. In only a matter of hours the priest would learn of their failed attempt to obtain a warrant against him. "Ferox, what if we could find a way to put Cocconas in your hands?"

Across the street a cluster of deserted tables lies beneath a faded awning waiting for the evening patrons to arrive. Ferox motions them to the most isolated table where they pull up chairs. Duris pours out some dubious looking wine extracted from an even more doubtful looking proprietor. "His crime?" the centurion asks mildly as he sups.

"Consorting with the enemy!" Lucian says emphatically. "We know he was in league with that Parthian. What was his name, Malorix?"

"Vasiges."

"Quite. Vasiges. And Malorix has this Polydius creature …"

"Not a credible witness," Ferox grimaces at the sound of Polydius’ name, or the wine, or both.

"Credible enough to attest to Cocconas’ crimes. Silo had enough to arrest Cocconas a year ago! He’s an escaped prisoner. We can crucify him today, right now, with what we know." Lucian pauses to think. "I don’t know much about torture Ferox. Can you make him talk?"

The centurion’s face hardens. "He’ll talk."

"Good. Then we will get master and servant."

"It will take a small army to break them out of that villa," Malorix interrupts. "Give me Duris, Harnuphis, and a few Frumentarii."

Ferox shakes his head. "We cannot risk a direct confrontation with the Praetorian Guard. Victorinus would have to take their part no matter the rights or wrongs of the matter, and he will not expose Alexander lest Verus become involved. If that happens, then no one would be safe Lucian, not even you! Do you want that?"

"Why should Victorinus care?" Malorix queries. "He despises Cornelius Repentius."

"He doesn’t care," says Ferox, "but the loyalty of the Praetorians is at stake if he lets them get pushed around by Frumentarii. Also, Victorinus knows Rutilianus. Rutilianus is rich and Victorinus isn’t. Or ... at least, he wasn’t."

"What do you mean?" says Malorix in disbelief. "Victorinus is of an old and respected family, patricians of ancient stock. He is our ally."

Ferox laughs. "You have been away from Rome too long. Victorinus’ son is a gambler, and not a successful one. My sources say he owed very large sums of money to a great many people in Rome."

"Owed?" Lucian questions.

"Indeed, his debts appear to be paid. Yet the same sources assure me that the amount was so high that Victorinus could never have paid it alone, and his son is still a good-for-nothing spend-thrift whelp. No, he got help from someone."

"Repentius?" Malorix suggests. "He’s filthy rich.

"Perhaps." Ferox shrugs, "Or Rutilianus, or another. Who knows? My point is we cannot rely on Victorinus to get to Alexander. Too many people would get hurt, including possibly him."

"Fine," says Malorix emphatically, "we do it more subtly. All we have to do is to get Cocconas alone on the street, or in the countryside. The Praetorians need not know he is in our custody until we have what we need."

"Hmm …" Lucian brings the wine cup to his lips. "Gods! What is this lora? It’s not fit for animals." He dumps the remainder in the street and turns his cup over on the table. "We don’t know what Cocconas is doing here in Antioch."

"But we do know," Malorix says impatiently. "He could not be sure what we learned at Stravin. We have Polydius, who knows about Vasiges’ operation, and the plans to debase more Roman currency. He must be here to warn Alexander."

"Neither he nor Alexander knows he was followed here. Is that right?"

"I can follow a trail like that on a moonless night through a sand-storm." Duris deadpans. “Unseen,” he adds as he spits in the street.

"Hence, they don't know we know he's here. What if they found out? They would want to get Cocconas far away for the same reason we want to get hold of him." Lucian leans on the table with both elbows, his fingertips touching his lips as though in prayer. "We can use that. Nor do I think that Alexander knows, yet, that the Governor has rebuffed our request for a warrant. That buys us a little time." He turns to Ferox. "What if we call on him now, as though we have the warrant?"

"But we don’t have it."

"A detail." Lucian sniffs. He feels a growing resolution. "Gentlemen, we will perform a little pantomime, I think. Malorix, you and Harnuphis and I will call on this seer of Abonuteichos and imply the imminent arrest of Cocconas. Ferox, you will go thumping around the palace in a similar guise. Enlist Thecla’s help to spread the rumour, she’ll know which ears to nibble."

"Lucian, what are you up to?" Ferox eyes him suspiciously.

"In addition, I want you to muster a squad of Frumentarii at the palace. Be seen. You should have a scroll of some kind that looks like our warrant. Wave it around conspicuously. Meanwhile, Duris and Timon will reinforce the ring around Cocconas. Stay hidden but make certain there are no exits. Harnuphis?"

"Master …"

"Send word to Alexander that I will call upon him without delay."

"As you wish. And if he is indisposed?"

"Tell him we are coming anyway. Tell him it is official." Lucian drums on the edge of the table. "When Alexander realizes Cocconas’ arrest is imminent he will surely send him word to flee the city. When he does, we will be there to snatch him."

"Lucian," Ferox waved his finger, "you are forgetting the Praetorians. They will continue to guard him."

"What happens beyond the city limits is not my affair. There are brigands, Ferox, everywhere. Duris, do you know any brigands?"

"I can find some."

"Do that ... and take along some off-duty Frumentarii to add a bit of quality muscle. Who knows, some of you might even tag along," he says pointedly to Malorix.

Ferox looks appalled. "You cannot declare war on the Praetorians in this way. There will be hell to pay, and if they cannot protect Cocconas they’ll kill him."

Lucian smiles grimly. "Now that is a risk I am prepared to take."