Nick Brown - The Black Stone

Nerva was nodding. ‘If we can restore order, the chiefs may come back to us.’

Cassius made a noise, and realised the governor had heard him only when Calvinus looked at him.

‘Corbulo? Something to say?’

‘Er, well, sir … I’m not sure the situation is as chaotic as it first appears. I’ve been working through the documentation regarding the various incidents as you instructed. The majority may well be due to the reduction in troop numbers and a consequent breakdown in order. But a few — and I wouldn’t be surprised if this attack on Ruwaffa is the latest — share certain common characteristics.’

‘Go on.’

Cassius knew he should have been spending six hours a day on the paperwork Verecundus had left behind. In fact he’d been doing about two hours, but he was most of the way through it and sure of his conclusions.

‘Sir, I shall refer only to incidents where our people have been killed. You will recall that a tax collector was murdered outside Aila last March.’

‘Hardly a rarity,’ said the governor.

‘Usually two or three a year,’ added Nerva.

‘Four last year,’ said Cassius. ‘The other three were investigated by local legionaries and brought to a conclusion — all disgruntled taxpayers as I recall. The Aila murder wasn’t solved. Then, last October, a legionary patrol was ambushed outside Humeima.’

‘Palmyran irregulars, wasn’t it?’ said Nerva.

‘That’s what Verecundus wrote it up as,’ replied Cassius. ‘But I checked the original report from the optio down there. There was no evidence of Palmryan involvement. There was no evidence at all. Verecundus just wanted a neat conclusion to his investigation. Then there was the robbery of the wage cart at Udruh in January. Six men killed this time, several thousand sesterces taken. Verecundus made no progress identifying those responsible. All three incidents were roughly the same time apart, all struck directly at symbolic Roman targets and all were carried out with a high degree of professionalism.’

‘And you chose not to mention this before?’ asked Pontius.

‘I did mention it,’ Cassius replied quickly. ‘It was in the preliminary report I prepared for the governor. Your office should have received a copy.’

Pontius turned to Nerva, who nodded.

‘Bloody useless clerks,’ said the tribune, reddening.

‘Now this attack,’ said Cassius, tapping the letter. ‘Again, a few months after the last incident and, judging from what we know so far, again carried out efficiently.’

‘Do you have a theory about who might be responsible?’ asked Calvinus.

‘No, sir. Frankly, I don’t know enough about the province. All I can say is that there seems to be a guiding hand at work. Someone who is becoming more brazen, more confident.’

‘Governor,’ said Nerva. ‘You know the chiefs better than any of us. Are they really capable of this?’

‘Knowing so little of their present state of mind, it’s difficult to say. But a few were certainly more reluctant allies than others, and some still cling to the hope of a return to the old days.’ Calvinus flicked his head upward. ‘When old King Rabbel lived under this roof and the desert folk came and went as they pleased.’

‘This person is an opportunist,’ said Cassius. ‘They might have waited for years, even fought alongside the legions.’

‘We have always been so vulnerable here,’ said Calvinus. ‘Thousands of miles of ungovernable territory to our south and east; and always dependent on the Saracens to provide information and security.’

‘Well, sir?’ said Pontius, still anxious to regain some ground. ‘I could have that column on the move within days, down to Humeima in a couple of weeks.’

‘Show our faces,’ added Nerva. ‘Discourage a further escalation.’

Calvinus didn’t seem convinced. ‘I will not risk such a move yet. Not until I know more. If the Tanukh are involved, retaliation may make things worse and the chiefs can each count on at least a thousand swords; if they turn against us we are outnumbered five to one. I shall look into this Ruwaffa incident myself. Pontius, I want that deployment report — use what information you have. Nerva, keep a close eye on those centuries with a large intake of new recruits — we may need them sooner rather than later. Corbulo, your priority must be these informers. One way or another, we must find out what the chiefs are up to.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Calvinus continued: ‘Also, I have instructed the magistrate to pay special attention to any disruptive elements within the city; anyone even mentioning the word revolt will find themselves up on a charge. Talk of the attack will get out eventually — it always does — but for now keep it to yourselves. Oh, and as of today, all leave is cancelled.’

Cassius stood. Pontius and Nerva were already on their way out. Calvinus moved his chair away from the table and ran his fingers through his silvery curls. ‘Corbulo, wait.’

Cassius turned towards him, hands clasped behind his back.

Calvinus crossed his legs and rearranged the folds of his toga. He spoke only when he was sure the others were gone. ‘You defended your corner well, young man, and I cannot fault your analysis. But if the present informers aren’t doing the job, recruit new ones. Get out there. Find out what I need to know. If you require more personnel, more funds, tell me.’

‘Yes, Governor.’

With that, Cassius picked up his satchel and left, collecting his helmet on the way out. The courtyard had emptied and — as he exited the residence and passed the sentries — he saw Chief Nerva striding away towards another exit, accompanied by two other officers.

As he neared the East Gate, Cassius heard the clatter of hooves behind him. He moved to the left side of the road but as the noise grew louder, something told him to turn. A tall, broad horse was bearing down on him.

Cassius threw himself out of the way, striking a low wall and half-burying his head in a bush.

By the time he’d recovered himself, the rider was well past. Tribune Pontius turned and gave a sly grin, then rode on.

‘Bloody idiot!’

Cassius kept the volume of his shout down so that the tribune wouldn’t hear, then felt ashamed for doing so.

‘Bloody army!’ He kicked away a nearby lump of wood, then checked himself for damage — just a few scratches on his arm.

Cassius continued on his way, still cursing. He resented always having to swim against the endless tide of army antagonism towards the Service but he was determined to prove himself. According to the demands of his father, he still had two more years to serve, and he planned to fulfil his duties as well as he could (preferably without taking any more risks than was necessary).

Thinking of the stack of paperwork awaiting him back at the villa, he quickened his pace. He would have to work hard for the rest of the day if he was to keep his evening appointment with the ladies.

It was the noise that did it. The previous rounds of the archery competition had been held in the morning, with only a few dozen inside the hippodrome. But the final was to commence at the eighth hour and over five hundred tickets had been sold. Before being introduced, the finalists waited inside one of the stalls usually used by chariot teams.

Indavara stood at the back, staring vacantly at clumps of horsehair stuck in the planks of the wall. There hadn’t even been a cheer yet but he could hear that low buzz of excited anticipation. His hands were clammy, his throat tight; and for a moment he considered walking straight through the swinging doors and out of the stadium. But with little else to occupy him in the last few weeks, he’d put in hours and hours of practice and he was determined to see it through. Sixty-four entrants were now four and the winner stood to collect ten aurei plus a silver trophy.