Birds of Prey by David Drake Read Free Book Online

flowers as these, you’d expect them to have a marvelous odor also.” He laid the spray against the hem of his toga. The russet blossoms were almost identical to the pair of narrow stripes that marked the Director as a Knight. “But instead there’s nothing, only the color.”
    â€œDamn it, Marcus!” the agent cried. He slammed the heel of his hand against the fig. The lizard catapulted through the air, twisting madly until it hit the ground and scurried off. “Can we use Postumus too? Is it to the Empire’s benefit that Gaul, Britain, Spain all claim they’re independent now? Can we make clever policy out of the fact that every field commander with a thousand men thinks he ought to be on the throne instead of Gallienus?”
    A large carpenter bee with a black abdomen lighted on the gladiola spray in Navigatus’ hand. The Director’s attention appeared to be concentrated on the bee as he said, “Aulus, we can’t worry about every little thing that goes wrong. We have to carry out our assigned duties as best we can, and we have to trust that other people do the same.” He sighed again. “Now if all my personnel were like you … are you sure I can’t convince you to join me here in Rome? There’s so many things…”
    â€œWe’re not talking about little things, Marcus,” the agent said with dispassionate certainty. “We’re talking about Franks raiding from the Rhine to the Pillars of Hercules, while Goths and Herulians spill through the Bosphorus into the Aegean.”
    â€œWell, I know that, of course, but—”
    â€œDo you know that we were damned near caught by those German pirates when we sailed from Sidon? That they were this close—” Perennius snapped his fingers—“before a little storm blew up and separated us?”
    â€œI’ve said how much I appreciated your haste in returning, haven’t I?” the Director said. The spray in his hands was trembling so much that the bee retreated from its flower cup and hung an inch or two away in the air, buzzing querulously.
    â€œMarcus, sir, ” the agent went on, “everywhere I go, I see the big landowners shutting off their estates. They grow for themselves, they manufacture whatever they need in house, they’ve got their own armies … and the good gods help the tax gatherer who dares to set a foot on their lands.”
    â€œAulus, there are agents assigned to that duty—” the Director began.
    â€œThen they’re doing a piss-poor job!” his subordinate shouted. “ Piss poor. And the coinage!” Perennius reached into his purse. “Have you tried to get someone to take a recent denarius, Marcus? Without feeding it to him at the point of your sword, I mean?” He found the coin he wanted, a freshly-minted piece with the bearded visage of Gallienus on the obverse. The stocky agent strode to the fountain in the center of the garden. A marble boy held a marble goose on his shoulder. Water spurted from the beak of the goose and the penis of the boy. Gesturing with the coin like a conjuror introducing a sleight, Perennius then rang it leadenly on the stone curb.
    â€œNo difference but shape between this and a sling bullet,” he asserted with bitter accuracy. “Even the goddam wash on it—” his thumb kneaded the shiny surface—“is tin, not silver.”
    Navigatus said nothing. Perennius took a deep breath. In a voice much quieter than that of his last diatribe, and without meeting the Director’s eyes, he said, “Marcus, you say ‘trust other people to do their duty.’ Nobody does their duty but you and me, and the Emperor. And when I see this—” he spun the coin expertly off his thumb. It made a glittering arc over his head, then splashed down in the fountain where the two jets merged—“I swear if I don’t think I’m giving his