“What are their cases concerned with?”
“The usual,” he shrugged. “Contracts for public works, which are in doubt because of this extraordinary five-year commission; some killings that would expand into blood feuds if we allowed these Provincial Gauls to revert to their ancestral ways; a number of land tenures that are in dispute, that sort of thing.”
The mention of land made my ears twitch, but land in Gaul didn’t seem to interest Titus Vinius. It occurred to me to wonder why. The province held splendid farmlands and they could be had cheaper than any in Italy. Labor was cheap as well. There was always the uncertainty connected with the upcoming war, but if that was his reason, it displayed a disappointing lack of confidence in Roman arms on the part of a senior centurion.
“Why did Caesar need him to confer with these Gauls?”
“I don’t know. I was only there for a few minutes before I had to go to the camp of the auxilia to inspect the newly arrived cavalry. In any case, Caesar just told them to come back for court in two days. He didn’t tell them that he’d be gone. He just wanted to fob it all off on me. In some ways he is as lazy as he ever was.”
“You didn’t see Vinius after that?”
“No. He probably retired to his tent with his German woman.” He looked at me sharply, reminded of the grudge he and all the other officers had against me. “How did you rate her, anyway? If Caesar didn’t want her, he should have given her to me. I’m his legatus.”
“I have powerful friends in the Senate.”
“Hm. He probably owes you money. Caesar is supposed to have cleared his debts at last but I don’t believe it. They were just too enormous. Oh well, back to work.” He set his cup on the table, next to the gold-laden box. “Take my advice, Metellus: Let those men be executed. It will be the best thing all around.”
“Not until I’m satisfied they’re guilty.”
“It’s your career.” He stooped and went back outside.
I carefully stowed the documents back in the chest and locked it. Then I hung the key on a thong around my neck. Then I sat and stared at the chest for a while. I longed to take it to my tent, but I could not afford to draw attention to it. I certainly couldn’t carry it about with me. I entertained wild visions of sneaking out of the camp under cover of darkness and burying it someplace, to return later to dig it up. I pushed aside this childish fantasy and decided that the praetorium was the best place for it. It was well guarded and I had already ordered Vinius’s belongings transferred there.
How safe was it? For one thing, it wasn’t safe from me. Never had such temptation been thrown my way. I was getting the bitter feeling that I could be just as corrupt as all those Senators I so despised. Maybe their opportunities had just come along earlier. Then I thought of Burrus and the rest of his contubernium. Might I have given in had the lives of men I believed to be innocent not depended upon me? I still do not like to think about it.
But what of the others? There was a strong likelihood that Paterculus, the Prefect of the Camp, was involved in these unsavory doings. Did he know about the chest? If so, what could I do about it? Damned little. In fact, if any of these military savages wanted that box, I would be well advised to let them have it, unless I wanted to end up facedown in a pool myself.
And what of Caesar? Oddly, for one of the very rare occasions in all the years that I knew him, I did not seriously suspect him of culpability. For one thing, he had taken charge of the Tenth only about two months previously, while Vinius’ suspicious transactions went back at least a year. It was possible that Vinius had cut Caesar in on whatever he had going on, but I doubted that as well. If Caesar had something to hide he certainly would not have assigned me to investigate, knowing as he did my enthusiasm for snooping into things.
In the end I hauled the incredibly valuable box outside and stowed it with Vinius’ other belongings, under the cover Molon had spread over them. Either it would be safe or it would not, and in either case I intended to stay alive and unhurt. The temptation still rankled, though. The sudden wash of greed had left me feeling unclean. I almost envied men like Crassus, who could make a whole career out of raw greed and feel perfectly wonderful about it. That was his public face, anyway. For all I knew, he woke screaming in the middle of the night with dream-Furies chasing him, like any other man with a guilty conscience.
In the midst of these unsettling thoughts I walked out through the opening in the praetorium rampart and collided with a white-robed man who was passing by outside. I started to stammer apologies and realized that he was the youngest of the three Druids I had seen when the Gallic and German envoys had called on Caesar. I switched from Latin to Greek, which I thought he might understand.