Free Praetorian by Simon Scarrow Page A

identities to me.’
    The names were neatly written on the documents that Cato had been given; he had taken the identity of Capito, and Macro had that of Calidus, both veterans of the Second Legion.
    ‘That mark on your neck,’ Macro commented. ‘I take it you served on the eastern frontier.’
    Septimus narrowed his eyes slightly. ‘I might have.’
    ‘In the legions or the auxiliary cohorts?’
    Septimus was silent for a moment and then shrugged. ‘Not that it matters, but I did a stint in a cavalry cohort before I was recruited by Narcissus.’ He gestured towards his neck. ‘That was the cohort’s emblem. Most of the lads have the tattoo. Bit of a pain now as I have to keep it covered up in my line of work.’
    ‘I can imagine,’ said Macro. He took a deep breath and exhaled impatiently. ‘Anyway, you’re late. Kept us waiting while you saw to your woman over there.’
    Septimus frowned. ‘My woman? Hardly. I was using her as a cover.’
    ‘Whichever way you like it.’
    Narcissus’s agent scowled at Macro. ‘If I had a woman, it wouldn’t be one like her. Anyway, her alcove provided a good place to keep an eye on you when you turned up. And the other customers. Just to make sure you weren’t being watched, or followed. Sorry for the wait, but I had to be sure. This business is too dangerous to take any chances. Right, the introductions are over. Let’s go.’
    ‘Go?’ Cato leant forward slightly. ‘Go where?’
    ‘To a safe house. Where we can talk without any risk of being overheard. It’s also a place where we can meet and where you can drop off any messages safely. You shouldn’t have any trouble getting to and from the Praetorian camp - the soldiers pass in and out of their barracks freely. That’s how we’ll communicate for the mostpart.’ Septimus looked round warily. ‘Follow me. But let’s make it look casual. Better finish our drinks first.’
    He poured himself a cup and raised his voice. ‘For the road!’
    Macro and Cato followed suit and forced down what remained in their cups, then reached for their packs and stood up. By now the inn was filling with customers and they had to push their way to the entrance. Outside the tout was still looking for further custom. He smiled as he saw them. ‘Leaving so soon? The night is barely beginning, sirs. Stay awhile and drink your fill.’
    Macro stopped in front of him. He drew a breath and spoke loudly enough so that passers-by could clearly hear him. ‘Anyone who drinks their fill of the slop in this place is going to be staying for more than a while. It’s poison.’
    The tout tried to laugh it off and clapped Macro on the shoulder as he turned to join Cato and Septimus. In a flash, Macro spun round and slammed his fist into the tout’s stomach. As the man collapsed, gasping for breath, Macro backed off with a look of bitter satisfaction.
    ‘That’ll knock the wind out of the bugger. Stop him peddling his wares for a bit.’
    Septimus glanced nervously at the people who had stopped to witness Macro’s action.
    ‘Macro,’ Cato hissed. ‘Let’s go before you attract any more attention, shall we?’
    They strode unhurriedly along the edge of the Boarium and left by the wide street that passed between the Palatine Hill and the Capitoline. To their right the edifices of the imperial palace complex covered the hill; torches and braziers lit the columns and statues that looked down on the rest of Rome. On the left loomed the mass of the Temple of Jupiter, built on a rock with sheer sides in places and accessed by a wide ramp that zigzagged up to the temple precinct. They entered the Forum and crossed in front of the senate house. A party of finely dressed youths came the other way, talking loudly as they boasted of their ambitions for the night’s entertainment. They quietened down a little as they passed the two soldiers and the imperial agent then continued as before when they were a safe distance beyond. On the far side of the