‘Make your report.’

Valens told everything that he could remember – from Rome to the Castle of Silence and back to Italy. Sometimes Volusianus asked questions, sought clarification or expansion. Now and then he jotted notes. All the time the broad peasant face was impassive.

Finally, it was done.

‘May I ask a question, sir?’

‘Of course.’

‘What will happen to Sasan?’

‘The prince is an honoured guest. For now he will be educated here in Aquileia.’

‘Will it not mean war with the Persians?’

Volusianus ran his hand over his face. He looked old and careworn. ‘War is coming anyway.’

‘My men, sir, what will happen to them?’

‘They will be promoted, and you will be rewarded.’ A shrewd look passed over the bucolic features. ‘But first you have another task to perform.’

Chapter 37

CHAPTER 37

Rome

MURENA SQUINTED AT THE SUN. He was early. The message he had sent said that he would arrive at noon, and it would not do to be there too much beforehand. It was essential they were alone.

Turning aside, Murena loitered. The Forum was busy. He wore the boots and sword belt of an off-duty soldier. They would draw no attention; Rome was full of troops. Glancing around he saw several in the crowd. Murena half recognised one with long hair and a moustache, vanishing around the Senate House.

Having bought a pastry from a street vendor, Murena sat to eat it on the balustrade that surrounded the Lacus Curtius. He took a bite, but his appetite had gone since the news that morning.

There had been nothing out of the ordinary about Volusianus going north. The imperial field army was still quartered around Milan. But the Praetorian Prefect’s diversion to Aquileia had been unexpected. The report had come from a member of Volusianus’s staff suborned by Murena. Unfortunately, the informant had not accompanied the Praetorian Prefect, and had not known the reason for the trip.

A ragged child was staring at the hardly touched pastry.

‘Hungry?’ Murena held out the snack.

‘What do you want?’ The urchin was suspicious.

‘Nothing.’

The boy snatched the food and disappeared into the crowd without a word of thanks.

The news had been waiting on Murena’s desk at dawn. Volusianus had returned to Rome late last night. With him were four named survivors from the mission to the Castle of Silence. Prince Sasan had been rescued, and was lodged for the time being in Aquileia. Reading the report, Murena felt as if an abyss had opened under his feet.

At least Clemens had not been among those who had made it back. There was still a chance that this was not the end. If Clemens had revealed his secret instructions to the survivors, the Praetorians would have come in the night, and by now Murena would be in the cellars under the palace.

Murena leant over and washed his hands in the water feature.