Agent of Rome: The Imperial Banner (The Agent of Rome)

by Nick Brown

  He couldn’t recall the last time he’d looked at them. His mother had given him the box on his tenth birthday and made him promise he would keep it for ever. When he’d left for Syria, she’d said she would feel happier knowing he had the great gods with him, to watch over him so far from home. In the last letter she had written to him in Cyzicus she’d asked if he’d set up a proper shrine and displayed the figurines there. He lied and said he had, intending to do so; but then another letter arrived – this one from Syria – and there had been no time.

  It was the classic mark of the fickle worshipper to turn to the gods when dangerous or difficult situations arose but Cassius felt he had to. Somebody wanted him dead. If he was to survive, he would need all the help he could get, especially as he clearly couldn’t rely on Indavara. Cassius replaced the figurines in the box as Simo returned. He would offer a prayer later, when he was alone.

  ‘Master Abascantius is here, sir,’ Simo said as he handed Cassius the glass of milk.

  The agent appeared at the doorway with Shostra, Major and Indavara in tow.

  ‘Leave us,’ said Abascantius. ‘All of you.’

  Simo and the others departed. Abascantius grabbed a chair, carried it over to the bed and sat down.

  ‘You look better than I thought you would.’

  ‘I wish I could say I felt it, sir. I suppose you want to know what happened.’

  ‘Actually I just got the basics from Indavara.’

  ‘Ah yes – my “bodyguard”.’

  ‘He was only gone for a few moments.’

  ‘A rather important few moments from my perspective. Looks like you were right, sir. Clearly somebody did identify us last night. And it seems the Sons of Antioch do not respond well to unauthorised visitations.’

  Abascantius tilted his head to one side. ‘It might have been them, I suppose. But they would want to know who you were, what you were doing there. And if they did want to kill you – which I doubt – they wouldn’t make such an amateurish attempt.’

  ‘It felt pretty professional to me.’

  ‘But if Ulpian knows your identity, why not simply have Quarto arrest you? Or come to me?’

  ‘No reason. Unless he wishes to avoid official involvement entirely.’

  Abascantius didn’t look convinced. ‘All we know is that this two-fingered piece of shit killed Gregorius and now he’s tried to kill you.’

  ‘Which someone ordered just hours after what happened at the guild house.’

  ‘But what if he’s been on to you for a while? What if your trip to the baths just provided a useful opportunity?’

  Cassius drank the milk. It hurt less than he thought it would.

  ‘Have you made any more progress, sir?’

  ‘Two more of Octobrianus’s ex-employees have gone missing recently. Perhaps they also took their share and disappeared. Or, like Nabor, became more trouble than they were worth. We’re also trying to turn one of the clerks from the procurator’s office; he’s been with Octobrianus for years, does most of his paperwork, probably knows him better than anyone.’

  ‘Sir, what if I could find a link between Ulpian and Two Fingers?’

  Abascantius gave a crooked grin. ‘You still think I’m wrong, don’t you?’

  Cassius sat higher in the bed. ‘You did tell me I should keep an open mind, sir. If Two Fingers was a legionary, maybe he served with the general. Which legion was Ulpian with before becoming prefect of the garrison?’

  ‘He was cavalry commander of the Sixteenth.’

  ‘I’ll go back to the records office.’

  ‘You’re happy to risk the streets, even after this morning?’

  ‘Far from it, sir. But I should be all right at the basilica. In any case, it now seems I will be unable to consider myself safe until we resolve this affair.’

  Abascantius stood up. ‘Best get used to that feeling. I’ve spent the best part of two decades worrying who might be creeping up behind me.’

  A chill ran down Cassius’s spine when he heard that, yet it hardened his resolve. He pushed the sheet away and reached for the clean tunic Simo had left at the end of the bed. Abascantius wandered over to the window and looked up at the sky.

  ‘If we can’t recover the banner before Marcellinus returns then I shall simply have to go to him and tell the truth. Gods, what a mess.’

  Cassius pulled on the tunic.

  ‘Then there’s no time to waste, sir.’

  ‘Good lad. But you should take a carriage. And keep Indavara on a lead.’

  Cassius shook his head. ‘Sir, I don’t want him anywhere near me. Can’t you find someone else? Someone reliable? I’ll pay whatever it costs. I’ve done all you’ve asked of me, and I shall continue to do so. But I’ll not put my life in his hands again.’

  Abascantius sighed as he turned from the window. ‘I’ve hardly the time for this.’

  ‘I know, sir, and I’m sorry.’ Cassius buckled his belt. ‘But I almost died in that pool today.’

  ‘I have a solution. Major is outside. We shall swap. He can accompany you and I shall take Indavara off your hands.’

  ‘He’s good?’

  ‘Getting on a bit but as street-smart as they come.’

  ‘Perfect,’ Cassius replied as he attached his dagger to his belt.

  ‘I shall be in touch later,’ said Abascantius. ‘And I’ll get the word out about Two Fingers now we know he’s in the city. Doesn’t ring a bell with me but someone might know of him.’ Abascantius pulled a sheet of papyrus from a pouch on his belt and showed it to Cassius. ‘Indavara gave me a good description – anything to add?’

  Cassius checked it. ‘No. That’s all accurate.’

  He pulled his sword belt over his shoulder as he followed Abascantius to the door. Simo met him there.

  ‘You’re up, sir?’

  ‘Send for a covered carriage. Then get me some food.’

  Abascantius knocked a fist lightly against Cassius’s shoulder. ‘I do believe you’re rediscovering a bit of that old Alauran spirit, Corbulo.’

  ‘Not really, sir. But whoever is behind this, they seem to consider me a threat. Hardly the time to retreat. I would rather find them than wait for them to find me.’

  Despite these words, Cassius was immensely relieved to reach the records office without incident. It only took half an hour to get there but it was difficult to think of anything other than who exactly was trying to kill him, what they knew, and what they might try next. He did at least feel reassured by the presence of Major. The veteran seemed capable and conscientious and had asked several questions about the danger they might face – the two-fingered man in particular. Leaving the bodyguard at the door, Cassius and Simo hurried inside. The room was looking rather more ordered now, with paths made through the piles of boxes and tablets.

  ‘Afternoon, sir,’ said Petronax, stepping out from behind a shelf. ‘I was beginning to think I wouldn’t see you again.’

  ‘I’ve been rather occupied,’ Cassius replied, stepping over a box as he approached the clerk.

  Petronax looked at the bandage. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘It’s nothing.’

  ‘Thank the gods it wasn’t your face.’

  ‘What about these records then?’

  ‘We’ve still only scratched the surface but I separated all the personal records out as you asked.’ He pointed at two distinct piles close to the door.

  ‘I don’t suppose you’d have anything on General Ulpian?’

  ‘Records for senior officers are kept at the governor’s office.’

  ‘I’m interested in someone he may have served with in the Sixteenth.’

  Petronax nodded and led Cassius to one of the piles by the door.

  ‘This is the Sixteenth stuff that’s been sorted out so far. The most recent records are from two years ago, the oldest are’ – Petronax examined a small piece of papyrus glued to the pile – ‘twenty years old.’

  ‘Ulpian was a cavalryman. We’ll start w
ith them.’

  ‘Cavalry are in the box on the top there.’

  Cassius looked around. ‘Is there a space where we can work?’

  ‘There’s a clear table next door. Go and make yourself comfortable and I’ll bring the boxes through.’

  ‘Thank you, Petronax.’

  The clerk smiled; he seemed to enjoy hearing Cassius use his name.

  With Major on guard outside the second storeroom, Cassius and Simo sat opposite each other at the table. Stacked in front of them were all the records from the cavalry detachment of the Sixteenth Legion. Petronax had been able to find out that Ulpian had left his post as cavalry commander ten years previously. Cassius initially thought about discounting all the records compiled after that date, but if the two-fingered man had served with Ulpian, he could still have been invalided out of service after the senior man had moved on.

  ‘Cavalryman Eborius,’ said Simo, reading from a sheet of papyrus. ‘Invalided – injury. Doesn’t specify what, sir. Height: five feet, ten inches.’

  Having estimated Two Fingers to be between five feet five and five feet eight, Cassius had decided to discount any potential match that didn’t fit this parameter.

  ‘No.’

  It was a while before either of them came to another file of interest.

  ‘Cavalryman Juncus,’ said Cassius, reading from a waxed tablet. ‘Invalided. Hand injury. Height not listed but age . . . he would be forty-two now.’

  With that strange, lined face of his, Two Fingers was difficult to age; Cassius reckoned he could be anything between thirty-five and fifty.

  ‘Possible.’

  He added the sheet to the smaller pile next to the main stack. A few moments earlier, a slave inside the basilica’s main hall had announced the beginning of the eleventh hour. According to Petronax, at the end of the twelfth, the entire building would be locked up.

  ‘You can start copying details from the ones we have, Simo. Note everything. Especially the addresses if they have one.’

  Simo nodded and stirred the ink Petronax had brought in for them. Addresses weren’t normally listed on the legionary records, except for some of those who’d retired due to injury – to assist with payment of the military pension.

  As Simo started writing, Cassius thought about what he would do with the list of names once it was compiled. They could try the addresses but what about those without? What other way was there of tracing ex-soldiers? Perhaps the stores that supplied equipment and weapons. Many legionaries kept accounts there. Presumably, cavalrymen did the same.

  They worked on in silence. Cassius went through another twenty files and found nothing of interest.

  ‘Last night there were thirty people at the church-house, sir,’ Simo said suddenly. ‘They prayed for those at the prison. Elder Nura is sure our Lord will answer.’

  ‘Keep writing, don’t get behind,’ Cassius told him as he discarded another file. ‘Most would say a believer must demonstrate his commitment to a god. Shouldn’t you show it somehow – a sacrifice or something?’

  ‘Our Lord always hears us, sir,’ Simo replied, without looking up.

  ‘Yet often ignores you.’

  Simo stopped momentarily, then continued writing in silence.

  ‘My point is, it’s all rather out of your hands,’ added Cassius. ‘Except of course that every one of those men could be free – if they took the wiser course of action. What did you say to your father when I left you alone there?’

  Simo put down his pen.

  ‘I considered what you said, sir – about him pledging his loyalty to Bishop Domnus, and you might well be right. It could work. But I couldn’t ask that of my father. He introduced me to the faith. It’s not my place to question him, or tell him what to do. You would understand that, I think.’

  Cassius didn’t particularly like the tone of that last remark – it was rare for Simo to speak to him in such a way – but he let it go. And once he’d said nothing, he knew it would appear weak to admonish him later. But there was another reason why he remained silent. Simo was right. He did understand.

  They carried on until they had to leave, by which time there were nineteen names on the list. As papers were put away and doors locked, and the last of the administrators filed out of the basilica, Cassius hurried down the steps, Major by his side. Simo had been sent ahead to find the carriage driver, and the vehicle now stood at rest ahead of them, one of a long line picking up late-working bureaucrats. To the left a small crowd had formed around a pair of drummers, to the right were a noisy group of toga-clad young men; students perhaps. Major edged closer to Cassius as they passed between the two groups. They were almost at the carriage when a female voice called out.

  ‘Master Corbulo, sir.’

  The voice seemed to have come from the left, but when he looked that way, Cassius saw only a stocky man hurrying towards him. He had a large, sheathed dagger on his belt. Major darted in front of Cassius and drew his knife.

  Then a girl stepped out from behind the man. Bacara.

  ‘It’s all right, Major,’ Cassius said. ‘I know her.’

  ‘And him?’ asked the bodyguard.

  Bacara pushed past her friend. ‘Master Corbulo, this is Silus – Nabor’s brother. He knows who killed him. And he knows all about the silver and gold.’

  Cassius took a moment to absorb what the girl had said. He looked around, unsure what to do. It would be unwise to stay in this crowded, open place for long, he knew that much.

  Silus was about thirty, and carried himself with a certain swagger; he didn’t seem overly concerned about the big man with the knife standing three paces in front of him.

  ‘Put the blade away, Major,’ Cassius said.

  The bodyguard did so.

  ‘We need to talk,’ Cassius told the girl.

  ‘Not here,’ said Silus.

  ‘Agreed. Simo, you go up with the driver. Back to the villa.’ He turned to Bacara and Silus. ‘You two: get in.’

  Cassius opened the door to the carriage. Silus helped Bacara up then climbed in himself. Major gestured for Cassius to go first, then clambered up behind him. The carriage was designed for four; but with the three big men inside there was little space. With a cry, the driver set the horses off and the carriage bumped away down the street.

  ‘Well, speak up,’ said Cassius, looking first at Bacara, then Silus.

  ‘Like she said, I know who killed Nabor, I know who has all that treasure, and I know where it is.’

  Cassius tried to keep his expression neutral but excitement surged within him. After all the trails, dead-ends and guesswork, was this the break he and Abascantius so desperately needed?

  Silus continued: ‘I’ll tell you what I know because I want revenge for my brother. But I have conditions.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘I had a part in it myself. I want a written guarantee that I cannot be punished for my involvement.’

  ‘I’ll have to—’

  ‘There’s more. Once I’ve told you all I know, you must let me go immediately and pledge not to try to find me again. I will be in danger, and I must leave Antioch. The girl too.’

  ‘If you really know all you say you do, I’m confident accommodations can be made, but I cannot authorise any of that myself.’

  ‘Then take me to someone who can.’

  XXIX

  Abascantius wasn’t at home. Shostra had let them in, and he now stood in a corner of the courtyard, watching Silus and Bacara, who sat together on one of the stone benches, occasionally exchanging a hushed word. Simo was wandering the orchard, inspecting the trees. Major had picked an apple and was now slicing it up with his dagger.

  Cassius had been unable to settle; first sitting down, then pacing around, and he was on the verge of insisting that Silus tell him what he knew when Abascantius finally returned. Shostra went to meet him and his master came straight outside.

  ‘Well, who are they?’ the agent whispered, looking over Cassius’s shoulder. />
  ‘The girl is named Bacara – the one who led us to Octobrianus’s villa. The man is Nabor’s brother Silus. Says he knows all about the silver and gold. And that he was part of the scheme too.’

  Abascantius’s eyes widened; but before he could step past, Cassius held up a hand.

  ‘Sir, he has some demands.’

  Abascantius nodded. ‘Let’s hear him out.’

  Silus and Bacara rose as the agent approached but he waved them back down. ‘Stay, stay there. We shall be here a while.’ He dropped his cape on to the other bench then sat down next to it.

  Indavara appeared in the doorway, looking out at the courtyard. Cassius ignored him and sat next to Abascantius, who pointed at Simo and Major.

  ‘You two inside. And you, Indavara.’ He waited for the trio to disappear, then hunched forward, hands clasped together between his knees.

  ‘You know me?’

  Silus shook his head.

  ‘You know my name? Aulus Celatus Abascantius.’

  Silus nodded.

  ‘Then you know the power I have. If all you tell me is true, I’ll do my best for you. If not – if you mislead me – the consequences will be serious.’

  ‘All very interesting, sir, but it is I who will dictate terms.’

  Abascantius scowled at this but he listened to Silus’s demands before replying.

  ‘Men have been killed. Good men. You admit to being part of this scheme and yet you expect me to guarantee your freedom from prosecution or punishment?’

  ‘There’s no blood on my hands. The only dead man I know of is my brother. I didn’t steal the treasure. I just helped to unload it.’

  ‘It’s here? It’s still in the city?’

  ‘You’re getting ahead of yourself,’ Silus said calmly. ‘I need a written agreement before we go any further.’

  ‘We’ve got a smart one here, eh, Corbulo?’ said Abascantius. ‘Let’s see if you know as much as you claim, young man. What has all this treasure been stored in?’