Chapter 35 Final Orders
Governor’s Headquarters, Lugdunum, 6 August, 28 AD
The centurion escorted them into a dimly lit chamber, where Decimus sat behind a large table on which scrolls were strewn. At his back were cubicles jammed with additional scrolls. A pudgy assistant dressed in an oversized, white linen tunic and toga hunched next to Decimus—like a dog waiting for orders.
The centurion announced Marcellus and handed the sealed scroll to the assistant to unseal and open. Decimus greeted Marcellus with an ice-cold stare. Marcellus nervously acknowledged Decimus with a slight nod and waited for him to read the imperial orders.
Decimus’s eyes shifted downward as he read the parchment. “Impressive,” he repeated, occasionally stealing a glance at Marcellus.
The anticipation of what Decimus’s final orders would be made Marcellus’s heart beat as rapidly as a war drum. The deathly silence finally broke with the clap of Decimus’s hand on the tabletop, signaling he was ready to begin.
“Leave us,” Decimus barked, exchanging glances with his assistant and the centurion. They both left the chamber and shut the massive door with a bang on their way out.
Decimus rubbed the corner of his eyelid as he studied Marcellus and the two ex-gladiators. “I find it unsettling, Marcellus, that you have brought two fierce gladiators with you.”
“Do you want them to wait outside?” Marcellus asked.
Decimus shook his head. “No. I want them to hear what I have to say. They can stand at the entry door.”
The governor’s unexpected response took Marcellus by surprise. He gestured for Negasi and Ferrex to do as Decimus ordered.
For a moment, Decimus rubbed the facial scar at the corner of his mouth. “So, you have an imperial order decreeing that you are the praetor of the northern garrison?”
“Yes, but Tiberius mandated that I report to you for final orders,” Marcellus said, still questioning why Decimus had asked the gladiators to stay in the chamber.
“You must be on friendly terms with Tiberius, then,” Decimus commented.
Marcellus nodded. “I met him at his palace on Capri.”
Decimus breathed in deeply. The blue vein in the crescent-shaped facial scar stretching from his left eye to his mouth pulsated as he spoke evenly. “Did you know your father threatened to cut off his patronage of me? He knows Catrin is alive and accuses me of being a liar. How did he find out?”
“I never told him,” Marcellus replied. “But it is hard to keep a dark secret like that.”
Decimus regarded Marcellus with probing eyes. “What is clear, though, is that you had a falling-out with your father.”
“I am not here to discuss my personal life. I am here for final orders,” Marcellus said firmly, to divert the conversation.
Decimus leaned back in his chair but kept his eyes riveted on Marcellus as he spoke. “Well, then, let me give you an update on military operations. I ordered expeditionary forces to Britannia to defend the Catuvellauni territory from Marrock’s raids. I advised Tiberius of this.”
“Wise move,” Marcellus said without any inflection in his voice, despite Decimus’s contemptuous scowl.
“I made the decision because Adminius, a son of Cunobelin, petitioned for military support in late fall of last year. Did you know the prince is betrothed to Catrin?”
“I was not aware,” Marcellus said flatly, although he could feel his pulse pounding in his neck.
Decimus studied Marcellus for a moment. “I find it highly irregular to petition Tiberius directly to assign you as a commander of the northern legion.”
Marcellus met Decimus’s piercing stare. “That said, I assume my final order is to take immediate command of the fortress at Gesoriacum.”
Decimus rose from his chair, and his voice grew louder. “Subordinates do not assume. Subordinates do not overstep. Subordinates obey. Only I, as governor, understand the regional issues. I speak the native tongue, which you never bothered to learn. I am in charge of military operations here. Not you—a boy who needs to think with his head! Do you understand?”
Marcellus averted his gaze from Decimus’s glazed eyes and looked at the cubicles. “I understand. Would you enlighten me about my assignment?”
Decimus leaned forward, both hands firmly planted on the tabletop. “You are to remain in Lugdunum and hunt down rebels plundering Roman estates. Centurion Priscus Dius will report to you. You remember him?”
Marcellus clenched his hands in anger, recalling how the centurion had abused Catrin during training in the legion.
That slimy guard dog!
“What about the expedition to Britannia that Tiberius promised I would lead?” Marcellus asked, more bluntly than he intended, noting the frown on Decimus’s face.
“Tribune Arius Petronis is the commander for military operations in Britannia. Not you,” Decimus declared. “His forces are set to sail back to northern Gaul in September. After that, Tiberius will reassess the situation to decide whether we need to commit more troops to Britannia. Meanwhile, you will stay in Lugdunum.”
Marcellus cocked an eyebrow. “To do what?”
“Do you recall the raven at the gladiatorial game last year?” Decimus asked unexpectedly.
Marcellus’s stomach dropped. Catrin had used the raven as a stage prop to incite fear in the mob during the games.
Decimus continued. “Remember, it flew out of the arena after Catrin’s fight? Alas, it has returned to haunt me. Every day, the black demon perches on a column at the coliseum, ready to swoop down on me. It has clawed the top of my head and made it bleed.” He inhaled sharply. “But it suddenly vanished about a month ago.”
“A good thing it is gone,” Marcellus said, thinking of the raven that had swept over him just before this meeting.
“Strange. The raids at Roman estates began around the same time the raven disappeared. The only explanation I can think of is that Catrin has returned to Lugdunum. As we both know, she speaks directly with Apollo and can summon her magic from his messenger, the Raven.” Decimus’s eyes narrowed. “Do you know where Catrin is?”
Marcellus nervously shifted his feet. “How would I know? She left my villa almost a year ago, after I freed her.”
A nasty scowl contorted Decimus’s face as he walked around the table and stepped up to Marcellus. “Now that you are here, it is strange the raven has vanished. That seems more than a coincidence.”
Marcellus gave a nervous chuckle. “Most likely, the raven found a mate outside the city.”
“Or perhaps the mate found the raven,” Decimus said, a biting sarcasm to his voice. “I’ve been told a woman leads the raids on the estates. And a raven is always with her.”
Marcellus swallowed down a sense of panic. He kept his eyes fixed on Decimus, though his heart raced with the thought that Catrin was spearheading the raids. It made sense. She’d freed Brutius’s slaves in Rome and had stolen coins.
“One of the plundered estates is yours,” Decimus added. “The thieves stole most of the horses. Some of the slaves went missing—possibly dead or kidnapped to be sold as slaves. A barn was burned down.”
Stunned, Marcellus felt his mouth gape open. “Catrin would never attack my villa.”
“Did I say it was Catrin?”
