Nick Brown - The Imperial Banner

‘How dangerous are the lands between here and Antioch, sir?’

‘Safer than they’ve been in several years, but there are Palmyran irregulars still scattered around, not to mention the odd gang of brigands between towns. It’s possible Gregorius ran into trouble, but it would have taken a strong, well-organised force to get the better of them, I can tell you that much. Which leaves your first possibility.’

Cassius nodded and drank some wine.

‘Someone with prior knowledge of the operation,’ added the prefect. ‘Marcellinus and the members of his council. Plus myself, Lollius and Tarquinius of course.’

Cassius decided he could conclude little from the cool manner in which the prefect had unabashedly named himself as a suspect.

‘And the Service itself of course, sir. I’m not sure if Abascantius has involved anyone other than Gregorius and myself. And then there’s the imperial post. I wanted to ask: how secure is it?’

‘Well, code is usually used for important communiques.’

‘How exactly does that work?’

‘You really are new to all this, aren’t you. Amandio!’ The slave shuffled over to them. ‘Bring me the largest box from the top shelf.’ Venator turned back to Cassius. ‘There is a standard cipher book with about two hundred different codes in it.’

Cassius had heard of these books but never seen one.

Venator continued: ‘On one of the first occasions I met Abascantius, we agreed verbally which cipher we would use but made no written record of it. From then on, anything either of us deemed to be sensitive would be written in that code. Common practice.’

As Amandio returned with the wooden box, Venator directed him to Cassius. The servant placed the box on the floor and opened the lid. Inside was a single leather-bound book. Cassius picked it up and opened it. On each page was a different code: some used numbers assigned to letters, others used a formula or symbols.

‘These books are all the same?’

‘Yes. They’re issued from Rome.’

‘But anyone with a copy could simply go through all the codes — if they wanted to decipher a certain letter.’

‘Yes, but they’re very hard to get hold of. Plus the army and the Security Service vet and monitor the couriers very closely. There have been incidents in the past of course, but nothing in this province that I can recall.’

Cassius replaced the book in the box and the servant took it away.

‘Sir, there might be another angle to all this. Some of Zenobia’s people must have known about the contents of the crypt. If any of them are still at large, then they might be responsible.’

Venator thought about this for a moment.

‘The queen kept much of her wealth with her; a good deal of it was captured at Emesa. The fact that the banner and the rest of the treasure were left here might indicate she didn’t know about them.’

‘Or that she did and they were being kept secret and safe — some kind of bargaining tool for dealing with the Persians.’

‘Possibly.’

‘And what of her courtiers, sir? Ministers? They were all killed?’

‘Her most trusted aide was Cassius Longinus. I believe Zenobia tried to blame him and the others for instigating the revolt. They were all put on trial and executed.’

‘But someone who knew of the banner may have survived, or passed on that knowledge.’

‘If they already knew of it, why not recover the flag and the treasure earlier?’

Cassius shrugged. More questions. No answers.

‘Sir, is there anyone left in the city who might be able to help us with this?’

‘Some of those working with us now were fairly high up in the queen’s administration. I’ll make some enquiries tomorrow.’

The oil lamps flared and fizzled as someone entered the tent. Cassius and Venator turned to see Lollius lowering a flap of canvas. He looked hot and unhappy.

‘You have them?’ Venator asked.

Lollius nodded.

Venator stood and put on his sandals.

‘Amandio. My cape.’

Shaking his head impatiently as the old man struggled with a drawer, Venator hurried across and took the cape out himself. He threw it over his shoulders and finished off his wine.

‘Come, Corbulo.’

Venator stopped close to the entrance and selected a long leather riding crop from a cylindrical wooden case. Cassius had a good idea who might be outside. He felt sick. As he exited the tent behind the prefect and Lollius, six legionaries were just being dismissed by a tall centurion. Four soldiers remained, standing in a row behind three prisoners. The Celts were down on their knees, manacled at the wrists and ankles.

Estan looked up at Cassius. His pale eyes bored into Cassius’s with unalloyed rage. His chin was bruised and one side of his jaw seemed to be hanging at a strange angle.

‘I thought there were four,’ said Venator.

‘One of them fainted when we grabbed him out of bed,’ explained Lollius. ‘Apparently he caught a stool in the head from the bodyguard. He’s in the infirmary under guard.’

‘Sounds like you’ve got a good man there, Corbulo,’ said Venator. ‘Not that you should have needed protection from men drawing a wage from imperial coffers. This is definitely them?’

Cassius thought it unlikely that he would ever forget Estan’s face but he double-checked the other two to make sure.

‘Yes, sir.’

Venator turned back to the quartermaster. ‘And what about the others from the inn — the auxiliaries who stood by?’

‘Enquiries are being made, sir.’

Estan mumbled something.

Venator slashed the riding crop across his shoulder.

‘Not a word, you dog! Not a single bloody word.’

Spit from Venator’s mouth landed on Estan’s face and on Cassius’s arm. Estan bowed his head. The crop had torn straight through his tunic, leaving a livid welt on the skin.

Venator turned to Cassius. ‘They’ll face a proper tribunal later in the week. Flogging, I should think. But I didn’t want you to miss an opportunity for recompense.’

Cassius was nodding, but all he could think of was what exactly the prefect meant by recompense.

‘You men are Caledonians, I gather,’ said Venator, now pacing slowly in front of them. ‘Well, this man is an officer of the Roman Army. Which means he is worth ten of you. And which means that if you ever encounter him — or indeed any other officer — you should show nothing other than deference, obedience and loyalty. Clear?’

The other two Celts nodded. They had also been beaten about the face.

‘Speak.’

‘Yes, sir,’ the men answered in Latin.

Estan remained silent and still, staring blankly ahead.

‘By Mars, he’s a stubborn one, isn’t he, Lollius?’

‘Like a mule, sir. Like a stupid Caledonian mule.’

‘Well, we need to hear him say it too. Let’s see if he can be persuaded.’

Venator handed Cassius the riding crop. The handle was warm.

Cassius took it, but he had his excuses ready. ‘Sir, I would prefer to allow military justice to take its course. I thank you for taking this action on my behalf, but I-’

‘On your behalf? No, Corbulo, you misunderstand. This is about discipline. Or rather indiscipline. They must be made to understand the error of their ways. They must be made examples of.’

Venator waved a hand towards the Celts. ‘Go ahead. They tried to murder you, man.’

Cassius looked over at Lollius. There was a faint smile as he wiped at his weeping eye. The tall centurion was watching keenly too. Cassius approached Estan.

‘Leave him until last,’ ordered Venator.

Cassius moved on to one of the other Celts. The auxiliary bowed his head. Cassius tried to think of the inn, what they’d done to him, the pain. He tried to channel all the anger and frustration of the day, and suddenly he was lashing out, striking the man about the head and the shoulders.