The Imperial Banner (14 page)

‘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.’

Indavara gave a brief look over his shoulder and nodded an acknowledgement.

Cassius glanced at Simo and rolled his eyes. He was curious what exactly this man had been doing for Abascantius. Before he could ask him about it, Indavara picked up his bow and quiver.

‘Do you need me here?’ he asked.

‘No. But I will in an hour or so. Are you going somewhere?’

Indavara held up the bow. ‘There’s a range close by. Looked empty.’

‘Do you have any documentation from Abascantius? An authorisation or something? In case someone asks who you are.’

Indavara reached into his bag. He produced a worn half-page of papyrus and handed it over. It was a simple written statement, confirming that he was a bodyguard in the employ of the Governor’s Office of Syria. There was also a small stamp and Abascantius’s signature.

‘Are you a good shot?’ Cassius asked, handing the sheet back.

‘Not bad.’

‘Make sure of it. I think we’ve had enough excitement for one day.’

Indavara left without another word.

‘By Mars, he’s hard work,’ said Cassius. ‘I’ve had better conversations with my grandmother’s cat.’

Simo nodded as he continued to unpack. It always amazed Cassius to see just how much the Gaul could stuff into their saddlebags. There were his tunics, a toga, riding breeches, capes and hoods; wash-cloths, towels, sheets, a pillow; a spare pair of sandals, a pair of felt slippers; plus a rack of oils and lotions that Cassius also deemed essential.

‘He is rather quiet, sir.’

‘You didn’t manage to get anything out of him?’

‘Not a lot.’

‘You saw the state of his horse’s mouth, and his saddle?’

‘I did, sir. I don’t think he’s had much experience of riding. I offered to help but he didn’t seem too interested.’

‘He seems a bit of a dullard, Simo. Handy with his fists though. Dealt with those big Celts easily enough. For the time being we shall simply have to endure his company.’

Cassius neared the small pile of clothes Indavara had left on his bed. He bent over and sniffed them.

‘Gods! And his stench. I thought it was this stuff on my neck. Simo, be sure to keep this place well ventilated. Move my bed further away from his – we have the space. And don’t forget to spread some perfume around before we retire for the night.’

The western quarter of the sky glowed orange and pink as the sun set over Palmyra. Cassius and Quartermaster Lollius marched along the middle of the road that led from the encampment to the Damascus Gate, with Indavara and Simo a few paces behind.

Cassius found it difficult to reconcile the scene in front of him with the image of the great siege conjured by Legionary Gerardus back at the way-station. The southern side of Palmyra was protected only by a six-foot mud-brick wall with many damaged sections; and there were no towers or fortified gates.

‘The defences were like this when our forces arrived?’ Cassius asked.

‘Pretty much,’ said Lollius. ‘But their queen had tens of thousands of warriors in there. The city is large and spread out, and many of the people stayed. If we’d gone in there house to house it would have been a bloodbath. The Emperor played it well. A victory without a battle is the best victory of all.’

Lollius nodded to the right and the four of them turned down a narrower road that ran parallel to the city walls. At the end of it was a large temple. Two legionaries stood guard. A third shot to his feet when alerted by his fellows.

‘Indeed,’ said Cassius. ‘The Emperor’s policy of clemency does seem wise.’

‘And he even spared the dogs this time.’

‘What’s that, sir?’

Although the question of rank was again complex, Cassius thought it circumspect to show Lollius the utmost respect.

‘The first city to resist him was Tyana in Cappadocia,’ explained the quartermaster. ‘The Emperor was livid that the inhabitants had sided with the Palmyrans, so he swore he wouldn’t leave even a dog alive. But then there were the usual negotiations and he ended up sparing the town just like he did here. The men were disappointed – they’d expected a good sack. So he told them he would fulfil his oath – and ordered them to kill all the dogs. They took it in good spirit and did so.’

‘One way to keep the streets clean, I suppose.’

In front of the temple was a wide courtyard. It was overgrown with grass and weeds and in places bricks had been removed from the walls. In the centre of the space was a large altar. Carved into the middle of it were channels to drain the blood of sacrificed beasts.

‘Whichever god this was dedicated to, he seems to have fallen out of favour,’ remarked Cassius.

‘I forget the name,’ replied Lollius. ‘There are so many out here and they all sound the same to me. I heard the followers belonged to a group that somehow offended the queen. Hasn’t been used as anything other than an armoury for many a year.’

Though dilapidated, the temple maintained an imposing grandeur. The walls were constructed of huge limestone blocks; the front was dominated by four thick, weathered columns; and high, wide steps led up to a hefty wooden door. At the base of the steps stood the three legionaries, arms by their sides.

Lollius took a key on a chain from around his neck and threw it to the oldest of them.

‘Open up.’

The quartermaster then looked at the man who’d been late getting to his feet.

‘Name?’

‘Legionary Decius Herius Faustus, sir.’

‘Faustus, eh – the lucky.’

The legionary grimaced; he knew what was coming.

‘Well, not tonight. If you want to lounge around like some slovenly easterner, I shall find you a useful occupation.’

Lollius looked back at the courtyard.

‘You know what my wife makes me do when I’m home on leave? She has me pull up all the weeds on our terrace. Every tiny shoot. Right pain in the arse – the back too after a while. But that shouldn’t be a problem for a young buck like you, especially after you’ve had a nice little break. Get to it then! I don’t want to see anything green left in this courtyard.’

The legionary leant his spear against the nearest column, removed his helmet and bent down in front of the nearest clump of weeds.

After three failed attempts, the older legionary had finally managed to turn the key in the stiff iron lock. He heaved the creaking door open. Lollius took the oil lantern he had given Simo to carry and stepped inside.

‘You two wait here,’ Cassius told Simo and Indavara.

With only a high line of small apertures to admit the fading light, the temple was almost pitch black, and Cassius stayed close to Lollius as the quartermaster stalked along the central corridor, footsteps echoing on the flagstones. Cassius had expected a voluminous space but, as the light of the lamp splashed across the interior, he saw that each side of the temple was divided into small chambers. Every one was full. There were barrels stuffed with spears and swords, stacks of helmets and armour; even huge stone balls a yard across – ammunition for siege engines.

‘Some of this was already here,’ said Lollius. ‘The rest we took off the Palmyrans after the surrender.’

At the end of the corridor was a steep set of steps that led up to a wide platform. To the right of the platform was a doorway leading to a large chamber. Cassius had seen this arrangement before in the eastern provinces. It was here that the cult image would be kept; the devotees wouldn’t want the sacred object to be visible from outside. As he climbed the steps – still close behind Lollius – he could make out depressions made by the knees of prostrate worshippers.

The walls of the chamber were dotted with empty niches, and in the middle of the floor was a square gap with soil below; presumably a former resting place for another altar. Cassius followed Lollius over to the far left corner. Here, a dozen stone blocks had been piled next to a low arched doorway. Beyond the doorway, steps led downward.

‘There was a false wall here,’ explained Lollius.

Cassius cast a quizzical glance at the limestone blocks. They weren’t as large as those in the exterior walls but would still be extremely heavy.

‘How did you—’

‘Lift one. You might surprise yourself.’

Lollius held the lamp over the nearest block.

‘Go on. Try.’

Cassius gripped it with both hands and found he could easily move it.

‘How in Hades?’

As he put the block down, Lollius drew his dagger and jabbed it into the stone.

Cassius jumped back.

‘Easy, grain man,’ said the quartermaster, twisting the blade before pulling it out.

‘See here – it’s wood. They plastered it or painted it somehow to make it look like limestone.’

Cassius leaned forward to examine the strips of wood on the dagger blade.

‘Clever eh?’ continued Lollius. ‘Tarquinius spotted it; the colour’s slightly different if you look closely. He’d seen something similar while treasure-hunting up north.’

‘Sir, I don’t mean to be impertinent, but do you really believe – and expect me to believe – that a soldier so adept at digging out booty found a crypt full of it, then simply reported it to his seniors without taking a single piece for himself?’

Lollius shrugged. ‘For all you know, I might have done the same. One has to think of one’s retirement at my age.’

Cassius stared at him. Then the quartermaster grinned. Cassius told himself to relax; in the grand scheme of things, it hardly mattered if he or this Tarquinius had nabbed a bit of silver or gold for themselves.

‘Can we go inside the crypt?’

‘You can. Scrambling down there Jupiter knows how many times almost did my back in.’

Lollius handed over the lantern.

‘Go ahead, I’m sure you’ll be fine. There haven’t been any earthquakes this week.’

‘Earthquakes?’ Cassius stopped at the top step.

‘Just tremors. I mean, enough to bring down this old place, but, no, nothing this week. Of course sometimes that means there’s another one coming but . . . I’m sure you’ll be fine.’

Fairly sure that the quartermaster was lying, Cassius descended the nine steps into the crypt. It was dank and musty, and in one corner, water dripped on to the floor. He could almost stand up straight.

He walked along all four walls (measuring the chamber at eight paces by five), studying the floor as he went. The lamplight sparked off something. He reached down and picked up a small brass coin. He held it close to the lamp. The obverse, which would almost certainly show an imperial portrait, was worn beyond recognition. The reverse showed what looked like two crossed swords and the end of a word he couldn’t read. He glanced around the crypt one last time, then headed back up the steps. He found Lollius sitting on one of the blocks.

‘What do you have there?’ asked the quartermaster.

‘A coin, old thing. One of those you used to cover the treasure with?’

Lollius peered at the coin, then shrugged. ‘Probably.’

‘Where did you get them from?’

‘There was a load of them in one of the other rooms. Not worth a lot now. We used them all, I think – made sure the barrels were full up to the lid.’

‘They all looked like this one?’

‘No idea. We just threw them in.’

Cassius returned the lamp to Lollius and followed him out of the chamber.

‘There are no other ways in or out?’

Lollius shook his head. ‘None.’

They made their way down the steps and back along the corridor.

‘So you brought the barrels into the crypt, filled them up, covered them with the coins, then left them in there?’

‘Yes. Then on the night that Gregorius and the men left we brought them out to the cart in the courtyard.’

Cassius stopped short of the door so that the soldiers couldn’t listen in. He spoke quietly.

‘You said you walked with them for a while?’

‘I did. The last I saw of them they were heading for the valley of the tombs. Bad omen, I suppose.’

‘I’d like to follow their route, out past where this sentry last saw them.’