'When they come,' Pollo repeated firmly. 'How could they resist?'

'And you won't be alone. I'm leaving a century of marines in the naval base.'

'To protect the base,' Pollo responded shrewdly. 'Not us. In fact, I imagine you're leaving them behind to protect the base from us…'

Cato ignored the jibe, and continued speaking calmly. 'None the less, they will remain and if we're lucky they might just fool Telemachus and his pirates into believing that Ravenna is adequately defended.'

'I doubt it'll take him long to see through that sham.'

'Really?' Cato watched Rufius Pollo closely.'What makes you think that? Why should Telemachus suspect?'

'Come now, Centurion. I'm old. I'm not a fool. Someone's been feeding information to the pirates about almost every move the fleet has made. That's no secret…' He looked down at the ground and shook his head, before glancing back at Cato with a forced smile. 'Anyway, I'm failing in my duty as a host. How may I help you?'

For a moment Cato stared back at Pollo, wondering how much the man really knew about the pirates' source of information. Pollo would hardly dare to drop open hints to a man with hundreds of marines at his command. Except Cato was alone and the marines might as well be in another province at that instant. He suddenly felt vulnerable, even here, amid scores of guests, and he looked round quickly and saw that a handful of Pollo's companions were watching them closely.

Pollo smiled at the centurion's discomfort. 'As I said, is there anything I can do for you, before you leave my house?'

'Who said I was leaving?'

'Trust me. You will be, very shortly.'

'All right. Tell me one thing. I'm looking for someone. A friend. I was told he was staying here, as your guest.'

'Well,' Rufius Pollo stretched out his arms, 'as you can see, I have more guests than you can wave a stick at, although some of these miscreants do actually have homes to go to. What is your friend's name?'

'Anobarbus.'

Pollo's eyes betrayed a flicker of surprise at the name, then he composed his features and tipped his head slightly to one side. He stared intently at the centurion for a moment and then lowered his voice as he leaned forward to speak to Cato. 'A friend, you say? If I was to ask you what the blind man seeks, what would you reply?'

Cato frowned. He hadn't the slightest idea about the merchant's family, and was surprised at the strangeness of the question. He shook his head.

'I've no idea. Blind man? What do you mean?'

'It's nothing.' Pollo's gaze flickered to one side, and he gestured towards the hall that led to the entrance.'Anobarbus was here. He left early in the evening. Long before you arrived.'

'Where did he go?'

'I don't know.'

'I see.' Cato paused before he continued.'Might I ask you to explain how he came to be a guest in your house?'

'Simple enough. We have friends in common back in Rome. They told him to look me up when he arrived in Ravenna.'

'What friends?'

'Just friends.' Pollo smiled. 'Tell me, Centurion, do you suspect Anobarbus of some crime?'

'Did I say that?'

'No. But I find it strange that you are conducting enquiries at this time of night. Why do you want to find Anobarbus? Do you suspect him of some crime? Some treachery?'

Cato paused before replying. 'I only want to eliminate him from my list of suspects.'

Pollo flinched. 'You have a list?'

'I can't disclose official information.'

'I see…' Pollo leaned back, keeping his eyes fixed on Cato. He affected a yawn. 'Now, I'm afraid you really must go. You've quite exhausted my hospitality. My men will show you out.'

'No need.' Cato stood and backed off a few paces. 'I know the way. I bid you good night, Rufius Pollo. Until we meet again.'

'We won't.' Pollo shook his head, and waved towards a pair of burly-looking slaves lurking at the back of the dining room, and discreetly pointed at the centurion. Cato turned away and walked quickly towards the corridor. He glanced back and saw that the slaves were doing their best to keep up as they pushed through the guests crowding the dining room. As soon as he was clear of them Cato ran down the corridor, ignoring the surprised expressions of the guests who turned towards the sound of running feet on the tessellated floor.

'Laecus!' he called out. 'Get up! We're leaving.'

Ahead of him the vague mass of the gangmaster emerged from the shadows, a small jug of wine in one hand.

'What's up, sir?'

'Get the door open!'

Cato threw himself forward and by the time Laecus had caught the sense of urgency the centurion thudded into the door beside him, fingers groping for the thick iron bolt that secured it. Behind them sandled feet padded down the corridor. With a grating rasp they worked the bolt and heaved the door inwards.

'Come on!' Cato shouted, shoving Laecus into the street. 'Run!'

They scrambled down the steep steps on to the broad tufa stone paving and started back towards the heart of Ravenna. They were only a short distance down the street when Pollo's men burst out of the house, dagger blades glinting in the wan glow of the light from within.

One of them pointed. 'There!'

'What the hell's happening?' Laecus grunted as he ran beside Cato. The centurion said nothing but gritted his teeth and darted towards the opening of a narrow alley, quickly praying that it wouldn't turn out to be a dead end. The alley was as black as a Parthian's heart, and rubbish had been left in long neglected piles, threatening to trip them up as Cato and Laecus stumbled headlong, desperately trying to gain some ground on their pursuers. They took a turning to the right and ran on, then took another turn, to the left this time, into an even tighter alley that reeked of excrement and rotting vegetation. A short way down the alley Cato could just make out the opening to a small yard and pulled the gangmaster in with him, crouching down behind a small cart.

As they squatted down, lungs straining for breath and ears filled with the pounding of blood, Cato drew his sword and stared through the opening to the yard and into the blackness of the alley beyond. All was still and there was no sign of Pollo's men.

Laecus tugged Cato's tunic. 'Would you mind telling me what the fuck is going on here?'

'Wish I knew,' Cato whispered. 'Keep quiet!'

They waited, but the streets were silent. Once a voice called out, some distance off, and there came a muffled reply, then nothing. Cato waited until he had recovered his breath and his heart beat steadily once again. Even though his body was still, his mind raced as he struggled to deal with the evening's events. His earlier suspicions about Anobarbus seemed to have more weight to them now. But what was the merchant's relationship with Rufius Pollo? The latter clearly feared that Cato was on to him somehow, and wanted the centurion silenced. Were they both selling information to the pirates? Cato frowned. It didn't seem to make much sense. But if Pollo was not dealing with the pirates, and nor was his friend Anobarbus, then who were they working for?

06 The Eagles Prophecy