The Gladiator - Scarrow Simon - Страница 10

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'That's close enough. Who are you, and what's your business?'

Sempronius cleared his throat and stiffened his posture. 'I am Caius Sempronius, senator of Rome. These are my companions, Centurions Macro and Cato. We must see the senior official in the town. At once.'

The optio cast his eye over the three men before him. Certainly the man who claimed to be an aristocrat had the right bearing for such a rank, and the shorter of the other two men was scarred and burly enough to be a soldier. But the other was thin and young, and did not exude any obvious authority. Besides their army pattern swords, there was no other pro of of the first man's claims. The three wore simple tunics and their skin was grimy and their chins stubbled.

'Senator, you say?'The optio licked his lips nervously. 'Forgive me for saying so, sir, but can you prove it?'

'Prove it?' Sempronius frowned and thrust out his hand to show the gold senatorial ring that had been passed down to him from his father. 'There! Good enough?'

'Well, I suppose...' the optio answered cautiously. 'Is there anything else?'

'What do you want?' Sempronius answered irritably.' The ring is enough. Now, let us in and have some one take me to whoever is in command here. Before I have you placed on a charge for insubordination.'

The optio stood to attention and saluted. 'Yes, sir. Open the gate!'

Two of his men sprang towards the heavy wooden timbers and thrust them back. With a groan the door swung open. The optio detailed four of his men to stay on guard and then ushered the senator and the two centurions inside the acropohs. Beyond the gate there was a small courtyard, on either side of which stretched store-houses, and ahead of them lay a basilica. Some of the tiles had fallen off and the roof had collapsed at one end. Otherwise the building was intact. More auxiliary troops squatted in the shade of the walls of the acropolis and some watched curiously as the optio and four of his men escorted the Romans across to the entrance of the basilica.

'Seems you've been lucky' said Macro.' Not too much damage up here.'

'Yes, sir.' The optio glanced round. 'But many of the lads were down in the town when the tremor struck. And after that, the wave.

Still can't account for over half of the cohort.'

'Cohort? Which cohort is that?'

'Twelfth Hispania, sir.'

'Garrison troops?'

'For the last fifteen years, ' the optio conceded. 'Before that the unit was on the Danuvius frontier. Before my time, though.'

'I see.' Macro nodded. 'And who is the commander here?'

'Prefect Lucius Calpurnius, but he's up at Gortyna, the province's capital, along with the rest of the quality. He left Centurion Portillus in charge while he was gone.'

They entered the basilica, passing empty offices, and crossed the main hall to the suite of rooms on the far side. The optio paused outside an open door and rapped on the frame.

'Come!' a voice called out wearily.

The optio indicated to his men to remain outside and led Sempronius and his companions into the prefect's office. It was a large room with shuttered windows that looked out over the town towards the sea. Normally it would have been a fine view indeed, Cato reflected, but today the windows provided a panorama of destruction and suffering. In front of the windows, seated at a desk, was a thickset man in a red military tunic. He was completely bald and his features were heavily wrinkled. He squinted towards his visitors.

'Yes? Oh, it's you, Optio. Who are these men?'

'They approached the main gate, sir.' The optio indicated Sempronius. 'This gentleman claims to be a Roman senator, Caius Sempronius. He says the others are centurions.'

'I see.' Portillus squinted again, then rose from the chair and strode up to his guests, where he could examine them more closely. 'So then, sir, might I ask what you are doing here in Matala?'

'Certainly, ' Sempronius replied patiently. 'We were on a ship bound for Rome. Yesterday evening we were struck by a giant wave, just off the coast of Crete.'

'Where did the ship sail from?' Portillus interrupted. 'What port?'

'Caesarea, on the Syrian coast, ' Sempronius said at once.

'Can the ship's captain verify this?'

'The ship's captain was swept away by the wave. But you can ask the first mate, if you feel you need to.'

'I may do that. Later.' Portillus eyed them suspiciously for a moment. 'I take it you have seen what the wave did to us here in Matala. Which rather begs the question, if it was powerful enough to destroy a town, then how did a simple ship manage to survive?'

We bloody well nearly didn't!' Macro interrupted and then glared at Portillus. 'Still, you seem to have come out of it untouched. Care to explain that, eh? Sitting pretty up here while everything goes to shit down there in what's left of the town.'

Sempronius laid his hand on Macro s shoulder. 'That's enough. Centurion Portillus is right to be careful. There are bound to be plenty of people roaming the island in the days to come. They could claim to be anybody. All I have on my person to identify me is my senatorial ring. See here.' He raised his hand for Portillus to examine closely.

Portillus scratched his chin for a moment. 'All right then, let's agree for the moment that you are who you say you are. What are you doing here?'

'It was the nearest port we could make for after we had repaired the damage as best we could, ' Sempronius explained. 'We had hoped to have the ship made seaworthy again, or at least take passage in another and continue our voyage. But now, having seen what's left of Matala, well, it's clear that we will be stuck here until another ship arrives. In which case we will need accommodation while we wait. I hoped to ask your commander for help, but it seems that he is away at the moment.'

'That's right. He went to the governor's palace at Gortyna for the annual banquet. The prefect and all the local worthies. As soon as the earthquake and the wave hit us, I sent him a report. He should be back to take charge at any time.'

'How far away is Gortyna?' Cato asked.

'Fifteen miles or so.'

'And the prefect has not returned yet, nor sent a reply?'

'No. Not yet.'

Macro took a deep breath to calm his growing sense of frustration. 'And what have you done in the meantime?'

'Done?'

'To help the people down there.' Macro jerked his thumb in the direction of the window. 'To help rescue those trapped in the ruins, to treat the injured and organise food and water for the survivors, and to restore order. Well?'

Portillus's brow creased into a frown. 'I have done all that is necessary to make sure the men of my cohort were seen to first, and to make them ready to carry out whatever orders the prefect gives them the moment he returns from Gortyna. That's what I've done.'

'Bullshit!' Macro growled. 'Bloody jobsworth. You and your men are sitting on your arses while the people down there need you. It is your duty to keep the peace. There's bugger all else for you to do on a garrison posting.'

Sempronius coughed. 'Macro. I'm sure that Centurion Portillus and his men will do what's needed the moment his prefect returns.'

'Assuming he does return, ' Cato added.

The others turned to look at him.

Portillus raised his eyebrows. 'Why wouldn't he return?'

'When exactly did you send the message to him?'

'Last night.'

'Then he has had time to respond or return. So why haven't you heard from him?'

'I don't know!' Portillus flapped an open hand.' Could be any reason. Perhaps he is needed in Gortyna.'

'Perhaps, ' Cato conceded.' Then again, if what has happened here in Matala is anything to go by, surely Gortyna will have been hit hard as well.'

As Portillus struggled to come to terms with the implications of Cato's words, the sound of a horse's hooves clattering across the courtyard echoed faintly through the basilica. Macro turned towards the sound and went to the door. A cloaked figure came running through the entrance and across the hall, making straight for the prefect's office.

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