Legion of the Undead by Michael Whitehead

Author:Michael Whitehead
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Vitus Press
Published: 2019-10-19T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY

Praetor Domitius called through his open study door for his man servant. The evening was drawing in and the man was probably busy lighting lamps and candles, thought Domitius. However, the thin figure of Paulus appeared almost immediately. He clasped his hands in front of him, and looked at the praetor questioningly.

“Do you have the list with the names of the missing people to hand?” He asked.

“Sir, I can have it with you in a couple of minutes. I will just have to fetch it from upstairs.”

The man's voice was high and reedy, very much like his stature. Domitius knew, however, that it was a voice that carried with it an intelligence most men would envy. A slave he may be, but far from feeble was Paulus.

“As quickly as you can please, Paulus. I believe a more systematic approach to this problem is required.”

He had spent the time since his fruitless conversation with Prefect Otho mulling the situation over in his head. He clearly didn’t have either the manpower or resources to match the prefect, so a different tack would be needed.

The one place he was sure he could be a match for him was brains. While Otho stomped around the city, or shined his armour, Domitius could be taking another approach to the matter.

The man servant left the room and returned in almost no time at all, carrying a file.

“Sir, I have the list of missing people,” Paulus said, putting it down on the corner of the desk.

“Do we have all of the locations of where they disappeared? Also, I need a map of the city.”

Paulus started scanning the shelves around the study. There were files containing various documents, as well as scrolls, neatly rolled and stored.

“I think we have one sir. Just a second, ah yes here we are.”

He unrolled a fine scroll that contained a detailed map of the City of Rome. It was out of date, no map could hope to keep up with the ever changing face of the capital. There was no mention of the Flavian Amphitheatre, for instance.

Domitius looked down at the rug he was standing on. It had been a present many years ago from his brother-in-law. The man was a merchant of some renown, or so he was told, but his taste was awful. He lived in Germania now, with his daughter but this rug had come from Syria. It was the one thing in his study that he really didn’t like, it was far too gaudy.

“Paulus, help me move the desk and turn this rug over please,” he said.

Paulus dutifully did as requested with much puffing and panting. The man was a fantastic servant but was not built for labour of any kind. With that done, and the raffia backing of the rug exposed, Domitius sent Paulus out to find a few pieces of charcoal.

So it was that Praetor Domitius and his servant spent the evening and a good part of the night copying the map of Rome onto the back of the large rug.

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