Nick Brown - The Imperial Banner

‘And when did Gregorius arrive?’

‘Last day of August,’ said Venator.

Lollius nodded without checking the book.

Cassius made a note, as he had for all the important dates.

‘Did anything unusual happen in the period between notifying Antioch and Gregorius’s arrival?’

‘Almost certainly, this is Palmyra,’ said Venator, leaning back and crossing his arms. ‘But nothing to do with this matter as I recall. We alternated the guard regularly. No one else was allowed inside.’ He shrugged. ‘I was away to the east a lot of the time.’

‘We followed the marshal’s instructions to the letter,’ affirmed Lollius. ‘A couple of days before Gregorius got here, Tarquinius and I wrapped up all the booty and packed it into small barrels. Low-value coins were scattered on top and the lids were nailed down. It took us a whole day.’

‘Just the two of you, sir?’ asked Cassius.

‘I’d have liked to have given the job to some of the lads, believe me, but we were told not to involve any more men than was necessary.’

‘How many barrels were there?’

‘Eighteen,’ stated Lollius, wiping his red eye, which was now weeping.

‘And what happened when Gregorius got here?’

‘He arrived early in the morning and I spoke to him right away,’ answered Venator. ‘He was desperate to see the flag. Had a sketch of it. We took him to the temple and he confirmed it was genuine. Then he told us he wanted to leave that night. Said he would provide the transport but that he’d need ten of our best men. Lollius here wasn’t particularly happy about it but Gregorius had his authorisation.’

Cassius pressed on: ‘There were certain criteria for the ten legionaries, I believe.’

‘Yes, which we followed exactly,’ replied Venator. Men who weren’t friends, had to be Italians, veterans and so on. Harder than one might imagine.’

‘And you chose them personally, sir?’

Venator gestured for Lollius to answer.

‘I spoke to ten centurions at morning briefing, gave them the criteria and asked for a name by lunch. The names arrived. The men arrived later.’

‘And they were told nothing?’

Venator answered: ‘Only that they would be under the command of this Gregorius and that they might be away for up to a month.’

‘I’ll need to see their records, sir. And I’d like to talk to those centurions. Perhaps even friends from the ranks if there’s time.’

‘We can probably arrange that but I don’t want a big fuss. We take men off for special duties all the time but rarely from different centuries. There will already have been talk of it. If you start dragging everyone in for questioning, it’ll be around the entire legion by tomorrow, the auxiliaries the next day.’

‘I understand, sir. I’ll be very careful. Where did this cart come from?’

‘The city somewhere,’ replied Lollius. ‘Gregorius didn’t tell me. Probably a merchant’s yard. It was a big old thing.’

‘You saw it?’

‘I walked the ten men up to the temple. Gregorius had told me to wait until nightfall. Curfew was still in place then. I helped them load up and-’

‘Sorry,’ Cassius interrupted. ‘How did Gregorius seem?’

‘Nervous. But then so was I, being in charge of all that.’ Lollius chuckled. ‘He even made me sign for it.’

‘And the men?’

‘Don’t suppose any of them were too happy about the prospect of a march like that but they knew they were on triple pay.’

‘Abascantius’s idea,’ added Venator.

Lollius continued: ‘I walked with them as far as the Damascus Gate.’

‘And what about the picket line? Sentries?’

‘I checked the next day,’ said Lollius. ‘They passed our sentries out to the north-east a couple of hours later — an area of big estates belonging to some of the richer Palmyrans.’

‘You have the names of the sentries?’

‘I can get them.’

‘Then we might at least be able to establish the direction they took.’

‘I wouldn’t be so sure,’ said Venator. ‘There are scores of paths Gregorius might have followed: nomad routes, herder tracks.’

‘The cart would be heavy though, sir. They might have left a trail. Has there been a lot of rain since then?’

‘Not much,’ said Lollius. ‘But there’ll be more coming soon.’

Cassius couldn’t think of any more questions. ‘Well, thank you both. I think that’s about-’

Venator stood. ‘I must be going. Anything else you need — just ask the quartermaster here. He’ll find you lodgings too. Come and see me at the end of the day.’ Venator took half a step then stopped. ‘One more thing, Corbulo. What happened to your neck?’

Their lodgings turned out to be a large tent previously occupied by clerks of the departed Third Cohort. The rain had stopped, so Simo opened the flaps at both ends to freshen the musty air. A team of slaves had just delivered three small beds complete with straw-filled mattresses. The beds were sturdily built but rather short — about two inches too short for Cassius. He now sat on one, his bare feet on the sandy ground, a pile of thin wooden tablets and a sheet of papyrus on his lap.

Quartermaster Lollius had remained cooperative, if begrudgingly so. He had consulted with a senior clerk who was able to lay his hands on six of the ten legionaries’ records. The others would apparently take longer to locate; the administrator was under-staffed and most of his men were with a tribune in the city writing up new tax laws. He had however promised to find all the records by morning. Lollius had then sent another man to tell the centurions who knew the men best that they would be interviewed the following day.

Each of the wooden tablets recorded the personal details of three or four legionaries: names, dates and places of birth, height, distinguishing marks and pay level. Cassius had already been through three of those chosen for Gregorius’ group and found nothing of great use. They were indeed all Italian-born veterans with at least a decade of service and numerous decorations. Cassius had copied the information on to papyrus himself; he didn’t want to miss anything. With three done, he decided to take a short break, then do the others before meeting Lollius; the quartermaster had agreed to show him the temple and the crypt before nightfall. He put the reed pen to one side and stared out at a line of muddy legionaries walking by.

‘I wonder if he’s found them yet.’

‘What’s that, sir?’ replied Simo, busy unfolding blankets.

‘Those men from the inn. Prefect Venator told me he’d have them in chains by the end of the day.’

‘Isn’t that what you want, sir?’

‘Yes, of course. I just wonder what will be done with them.’

‘And those other men, from the road?’

‘Optio Rullus and their centurion have been informed. They too will face punishment.’

Cassius stood up and touched his aching neck.

‘Leave it alone, sir. I’ll only have to put on more cream.’

‘Yes, yes, I know.’

Venator had also arranged for Cassius to see the legion’s chief surgeon. The elderly Greek had examined Cassius’s head and back and decided it was ‘just bruising’. The damage to his neck was ‘purely superficial’, though the surgeon had supplied a jar of unguent to ease the pain where the cape had cut the skin.

‘It is helping a little. Stinks though.’

‘That’ll be the vinegar, sir.’

Cassius looked over at Indavara. The bodyguard was facing away from him, unpacking the meagre contents of his bag.

‘You certainly travel light.’

Indavara didn’t react.

‘I suppose I should thank you. You literally saved my neck.’