London - Edward Rutherfurd [41]
Julius and his father remained near the back. Around them, Julius observed, were other relatively humble members, obviously like his father rather pleased to be there, but he could also see several prominent and influential citizens. “The lodge can fix almost anything in this city,” Rufus whispered proudly.
They continued to wait quietly, chatting to those close by. Several minutes passed. Then Julius felt his father nudge him. “Here he comes,” he muttered. “You’ll do fine,” he added nervously. Julius gazed towards the west end.
The man who had been the Raven was a large, imposing figure. He had taken off his costume and was making his way down the nave, nodding to members here and there with an air of friendly authority. In the soft light, Julius could see that his head was grizzled, but it was only as he came closer that Julius saw, with a sudden, cold panic, the scar running from the top to the bottom of his cheek.
The eyes of the centurion were fixed on him. Their stare was harsh. Julius felt himself go white. No wonder the Raven had seemed to be observing him so closely. He’s recognized me, Julius thought, and I’m done for. He could scarcely look up as his father, with a nervous little laugh, introduced him.
At first Julius did not hear anything. He was conscious of nothing except the centurion’s eyes upon him. Only after several moments did he realize that the soldier was quietly speaking to him. He was talking about the river trade, of the need for a bright young fellow to bring pottery from the interior of the island to the port. The pay for such a fellow would be good. A chance to trade on his own account. Was it possible that the centurion had not recognized him after all? He looked up.
There was something strange about the centurion. Julius noticed it now, though he could not say exactly what it was. As the large man stared down at him, Julius was aware only that behind those hard eyes lay something else, something hidden. Not that it was unusual for such a man to have business interests. The legionaries were well paid and no doubt the centurion intended to become a substantial merchant, even a landowner, after he retired. In the meantime, his duties in the capital were mainly ceremonial, together with some light police work. He had time to make investments. As he talked, however, Julius found that his first impression grew even stronger: there was more to the centurion than first appeared. The bluff soldier was a man of secrets. Perhaps they concerned the Mithraic lodge; maybe something else. Julius could only wonder what.
A little nervously he answered the questions the centurion put to him. He tried to give a good account of himself, even if he felt awkward. It was impossible to tell what impression he was making. Finally, however, the centurion nodded to his father. “He seems all right,” he remarked, and gave the older man a smile. “You’ll bring him to the lodge again, I hope.” Rufus blushed with pleasure. “As far as this river business is concerned, I’m satisfied. But he’ll have to work with my agent.” He glanced about with a hint of impatience. “Where is he? Ah yes.” He gave a smile. “Stay there. I’ll bring him over.” And he moved away to where some figures were standing in the shadows.
Rufus was beaming at his son. “Well done, boy. You’re in,” he whispered. It seemed to the older man that this evening was bringing everything he could wish.
He was surprised and a little confused, therefore, to observe that the expression on Julius’s face, far from showing joy, had just changed to one of amazement and horror. Whatever could be the matter?
For as the centurion returned, Julius had got his first sight of the agent. And though, for a moment, he had told himself it was impossible, as they drew closer there was no doubt. There before him, in the soft light of the temple, his blue face forming into a smile, stood the mariner.
A quarter-moon