The Black Stone (10 page)

The obverse was quite worn; he couldn’t read the legend around the portrait. ‘Not sure which emperor that is.’ He turned the coin over and examined the reverse. The image on this side was clearer – four horses leading a cart with a round object inside. Beneath was a single word.
ELAGABAL
.

‘Ah. Elagabalus. The Syrian boy priest who somehow ended up emperor. If memory serves he liked to wear women’s clothes and set up a brothel in the palace. Ended up dead in a sewer after four years in charge. My grandfather, and many other people, consider him to be one of the worst emperors of all time.’

‘And in the cart?’

‘The fabled black stone. He’d worshipped it as a child then took it with him from Emesa to Rome. A sacred rock that spoke with a voice from above.’ Cassius handed the coin back. ‘Or some such rubbish.’

‘Given the views of our current ruler, it might be wise to keep statements like that to yourself.’

‘It’s true, then, sir? Aurelian really does favour the solar religions of the east now?’

‘I don’t know about “favour”. He’s certainly interested in them, though unlike Elagabalus he’s too wise to elevate them above Jupiter and the other great gods. But he has recently set about acquiring the most notable icons associated with Sol or whatever name you wish to give him and placing them in the Palatine temple. The black stone is perhaps the most well known of them all. Aurelian intends – was intending – to add it to his collection.’

Cassius took a longer swig of wine to steady his nerves. ‘Something tells me that what comes next might bode ill for me. This is starting to remind me of our first conversation regarding a certain missing flag.’

Abascantius glared at him. ‘May I continue?’

‘Sorry.’

‘After the demise of Elagabalus the stone was returned to the great temple at Emesa. It has remained there for the last five decades, watched over by a brotherhood of priests. When the Emperor recently elected to lead the second campaign against Palmyra himself, he also decided to take the stone back with him to Rome. A detachment was assigned to guard the temple and await his arrival. When I left Antioch, the grand army had just crossed into Cilicia. The Emperor will reach Syria in a few weeks; and the attack on Palmyra will commence soon after. Once that is concluded, he will move on to Emesa. The unfortunate Governor Gordio will have to inform him that the stone is no longer there.’

Cassius’s headache had begun as soon as he entered the kitchen and was worsening by the moment. He closed his eyes and massaged his brow.

‘You needn’t despair just yet, Corbulo. I know where it is.’

Cassius put down his hand.

‘Here,’ added Abascantius. ‘In Arabia. Where exactly I’m not sure, but I know a man who does.’

‘Sir, please. I beg you not to continue. There
must
be someone else who can take this on.’

‘I haven’t told you what I want you to do yet.’

‘Find the stone?’

‘Well, yes, but—’

Cassius could control himself no longer. He shot to his feet and lashed his boot back onto the bench. It hovered for a moment, then crashed noisily to the floor.

Abascantius looked up at him, stunned. ‘What in Hades do you think you’re doing, you little turd? Sit down!’

Cassius heard himself say, ‘No.’

‘What?’ The agent put down his wine.

‘Sir, this is simply not fair. You have asked me to shoulder a great deal already. I do not see why I should be responsible for sorting out every single problem that—’

Despite his size, Abascantius moved with surprising speed. He leaped out of the chair, grabbed Cassius’s tunic and pushed him back against the wall beside the hearth.

‘It seems I shall have to remind you of a few things, Corbulo. First – you do not question me. Understood? Don’t say anything, just nod.’

Cassius nodded; and tried not to inhale any of Abascantius’s putrid breath. The agent’s fingers scraped across his chest, pulling his tunic tight around his neck.

‘Second – recall that you are still a man making up for lost time – the two years you spent avoiding your Service duties by hiding in Cyzicus.’

It had actually been twenty months, but Cassius wasn’t about to quibble.

‘You may have covered yourself in glory of late but things change. Things can always change.’

Abascantius let go and took a step backwards. He flattened Cassius’s tunic down and placed a hand on his shoulder. ‘Look at me.’

Cassius did so. ‘Profound apologies, sir. I didn’t—’

‘Just listen, lad. I have two words for you. One is deserter. The other is hero. Which do you prefer?’

‘Certainly not the former, sir. But I am no hero.’

‘False modesty doesn’t suit you. Sit down.’

Abascantius took Cassius’s drink and pushed it into his hand, then coaxed him down onto the bench.

Muranda looked in through the doorway.

‘It’s all right,’ said Cassius shakily. ‘On with your work.’

Abascantius sat down. ‘And for the record, I’ve only actually given you one assignment that turned out to be dangerous. You took on the Memor investigation yourself.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Why?’

Cassius shrugged. ‘The local magistrate was an idiot. Memor’s family were bereft. Somebody had to do something.’

‘There, what did I tell you? A hero. By Mars, Corbulo, you even have the looks for it – especially now you’re starting to roughen up around the edges.’

Cassius took another drink as Abascantius continued.

‘Believe me, I would take charge of this myself if I could but I must ride directly from here to a meeting with Prefect Venator. The Fourth Legion is to lead the counter-attack against the Palmyrans and Marshal Marcellinus has tasked me with the scouting operation.’

‘Sir, it’s just that I had begun to settle in here. The province has its own problems and the governor has given me the task of acquiring information on the tribal chieftains. Essential work.’

‘I’m sure. And under normal circumstances I wouldn’t take you away from it. But you have shown yourself to be a natural at investigative work.’ Abascantius leaned forward. ‘This is for the Emperor himself, Corbulo. He believes, he must win and secure the favour of Sol. And what
he
believes,
we
must believe. You called Elagabalus one of the worst emperors of all time. Quite right, but in this Dacian we might have one of the best. A few have come and gone in my time but finally we have a man worthy of the purple. Pulcher tells me he may even be planning a move into Gaul, to crush the usurper Tetricus. You and I have taken an oath to serve him. Do not forget that.’

Though he resented Abascantius’s rather obvious attempts at manipulation, Cassius found himself nodding. Aurelian was an aggressive, astute commander yet also a man dedicated to peace and prosperity for the Empire. If that could be achieved, all would benefit, Cassius included.

‘Sir, please forgive my outburst.’

‘Already forgotten. Now, time’s getting on. I need a bath and a good night’s sleep. I’ll see Calvinus in the morning, then call in here and give you the details.’

‘Very well, sir.’

‘I will, however, say this. All must do their duty and their share but – yes – it could be argued you have already done more than yours. How much longer must you serve under the agreement with your father?’

‘Almost exactly two years, sir.’

‘Then I offer you another agreement. If you recover the stone, I’ll guarantee you six months behind a desk. How does that sound?’

There was a sudden thump against the front door.

Muranda ran through into the kitchen. ‘Someone’s outside, sir. Could it be those men from earlier?’

‘What men?’ asked Abascantius as they stood up.

‘I’m sure it’s nothing, sir.’

Even so, Cassius kept his hand on his dagger as he hurried across the atrium. ‘Who’s there?’

From outside came a strange groan.

‘Indavara?’ Cassius opened the door. Abascantius had grabbed a lamp and he held it over the figure lying across the path.

Indavara’s top half had crushed a shrub. He gazed up at the light, eyes glassy.

‘Gods.’ Cassius knelt down and checked him for injuries.

‘Is he hurt?’ asked Abascantius.

Cassius inhaled a heavy waft of wine. ‘Drunk.’

‘Ah. Does he do this often?’

‘Never. Can’t take more than three or four mugs.’

Abascantius gave the lamp to Muranda. ‘I’ll take his legs. Let’s get him inside.’

‘By Jupiter, he’s even heavier than he looks,’ spluttered the agent as they finally lowered Indavara’s limp form onto the bed.

‘This end’s even worse.’

Though his eyes were closed, Indavara waved at something, then turned onto his side and promptly began to snore.

Abascantius eyed the livid pink scarring upon his right shin. ‘That new?’

‘From Cyrenaica. The fight with Carnifex. It got badly infected a while back but Simo dealt with it.’

The agent turned his attention to the arrangement of the bed. It had been pushed up against one wall and was corralled by the rest of Indavara’s belongings.

‘He always does that,’ explained Cassius. ‘Simo thinks it’s because he was in a cell for so long. It’s strange – I’d have thought he’d want as much space as possible.’

‘Fought for three or four years, didn’t he? Not many survive the arena that long.’

‘Six. Six years.’

‘Remarkable. So you think he got drunk because of what happened today?’

‘Probably,’ replied Cassius as they left the bedroom.

‘Come. I need to stretch my legs – you can tell me about it.’

As Cassius pulled the curtain across Indavara’s doorway, Muranda appeared outside the kitchen.

‘I’ll be back shortly,’ Cassius told her. ‘Keep all the doors locked.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Upon reaching the fortress gate they met the two sentries. Though in theory the men should have asked for some identification or at least the day’s password, the officers’ red tunics – or perhaps Abascantius’s reputation – saw them through without a word. Once inside, the agent sauntered along one side of the parade ground, Cassius beside him.

‘So?’

Cassius related what Indavara had told him about the incident at the hippodrome and the pursuit of the mob.

‘Could have been nasty. You need to keep a closer eye on him, Corbulo. Surely I don’t need to remind you about the importance of keeping him in our employ. Indavara is a valuable asset. I advise you to treat him as such.’

‘There is something else, sir. Something he told me in Cyrenaica. It too perhaps explains his troubles.’

‘Go on.’

‘I – I felt when he told me that it’s not something he would want passed around. Simo knows, but—’

‘Who would I tell?’ snapped Abascantius. ‘Continue.’

‘Indavara has no memory of his life before the arena. He was hit on the head somehow and the first thing he remembers is coming to there. The only man that knew him from before was killed not long after. All he knows is his name.’

Abascantius stopped and gazed at the torches lining the barracks on the other side of the parade ground. ‘By the gods, that does explain a lot.’

‘That naivety he has about him, sir, that innocence. Whatever earlier experiences he had, he cannot draw upon them. All he has known is those six years then the time after.’

‘He remembers
nothing
?’

‘Not a thing. I’ve offered to help by contacting his former owner in Pietas Julia – where he came from. Perhaps we might find some answers for him.’

Abascantius set off again. They turned at the corner of the parade ground and continued along beside a high wall. ‘Perhaps. But such a distraction would be in neither of our best interests.’

Cassius felt a little guilty; discussing Indavara’s fate while the poor bastard slept. But the situation had to be resolved somehow.

‘Honestly, sir, I think he’s better off with us. Simo gets on well with him; he’s teaching him to read and write and count. But this incident, clearly it has affected him. He spoke of leaving for good.’

‘We cannot have that. I will double his payment for this operation.’

‘Sir, I’m not sure that’s the issue. Apart from weapons he has no real interest in possessions; no one to spend it on. In fact, money just makes him more independent of us – more able to leave if that is his wish. He spoke of having no place in the world.’

‘Yet he has already risked his life for the Service. For Rome.’

‘He has risked his life for myself and Simo, yes. And for others. But not for Rome. Earlier today he told me it was just another job.’

As they approached the barracks, Abascantius stopped again. ‘That needs to change. We must make him feel wanted, Corbulo. We must give him his place.’

‘About bloody time. I was just coming to kick your bed again.’

A bleary-eyed Indavara tottered out of the kitchen towards Cassius, who was taking his breakfast in the courtyard. Slumping down on a stool, he eyed his plate.

‘Go ahead,’ said Cassius, pushing it across the table. ‘I don’t want any more anyway.’

As the bodyguard pulled a roll apart, Muranda appeared in the doorway. ‘Morning, Master Indavara.’

Indavara managed to raise a hand as he stuffed the bread into his mouth.