Free Saviour of Rome [Gaius Valerius Verrens 7] by Douglas Jackson

considered for a moment. ‘Could the attempt on your life have anything to do with my mission?’
    Pliny winced at the possibility, but shook his head. ‘Not directly, I think.’ He met Valerius’s eyes. ‘I believe I may have suspected something of this nature, deep down, because I ensured all correspondence involving you was directly between myself and the Emperor or Titus. Asturica Augusta? Yes, it is possible, but why now?’
    ‘Because they fear you are getting too close.’
    ‘Poor Petronius,’ Pliny sighed. ‘I sent him to his doom. Perhaps you should reconsider, Valerius? The Emperor would not want you to share his fate.’
    ‘No.’ There was iron in Valerius’s voice. ‘I gave him my vow and too much is at stake to turn back now.’
    Pliny smiled and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. ‘I thought as much. Then, given the change in circumstances, I believe you should follow your original instinct and make a low-key entry to Asturica Augusta. A soldier on his way to visit old comrades. I could send you with a supply convoy – they come and go all the time – but they take an age. Better I think to accompany the courier who leaves tomorrow carrying my reply to the officer in charge of the fort at Legio. He’s to have an escort of troopers from my guard squadron, so you should besafe enough on the journey. The courier is based at the fort so it’s possible you may find out how things lie there.’
    Pliny had called Asturica a hornets’ nest, but from where Valerius sat it seemed more like a den of vipers. He had a feeling the only way to get the information Vespasian sought would be to place himself amongst them.

VII
    The five men sat deep in the shadows of a shabby, dilapidated room illuminated solely by moonlight that filtered through the open shutters. Their faces were mere pools of darkness marked by the icy glint of eyes that reflected either inquisitive anticipation of what was to come or fearful apprehension. Each had his own thoughts about the current situation, but only one man’s views mattered. This house was one of several that man owned in Asturica Augusta: a dusty, half derelict building on a back street where their comings and goings would go unnoticed. For more than three years, since Servius Sulpicius Galba had marched in triumph from Tarraco’s gates escorted by the Seventh legion, they’d profited from the chaos of the civil war. Now their world was changing.
    ‘Our lives will be forfeit if Vespasian discovers what has been happening here.’ The man they had come to hear, a grim presence in the corner, announced the painful truth of which they were all aware in a soothing voice designed to steady fraying nerves.
    Each could have pointed out that he would not be here but for this man’s encouragement and the temptation of the gold he had quite literally poured before their eyes. One of them wanted to say it, but he knew that in the end it would make no difference. Hehad taken his share along with the rest. Nothing could change that.
    It was another man who spoke. ‘Then we must stop. Now.’
    ‘Do you really believe that will solve anything?’ The leader laughed. The man had always been weak. ‘All it will do is harden their suspicions when the gold yields suddenly rise again after three years. On the contrary, we should continue what we’re doing. In fact, we must increase it.’
    ‘What?’ Four mouths gaped.
    ‘Why do you think I always insisted we should build up such a large reserve? Not because you were already rich beyond other men’s wildest imaginings. No,’ he shook his head, ‘I did so because gold is power.’
    ‘You said Asturica deserved to be the richest place in Hispania,’ another man dared to speak out. The leader recognized the voice of the sceptic, always questioning, but kept loyal by his greed. ‘This should be its greatest city, because this is where the greatest natural resources are. Strong men make strong decisions, you said. We would use