The Imperial Banner (48 page)

They carried on until they had to leave, by which time there were nineteen names on the list. As papers were put away and doors locked, and the last of the administrators filed out of the basilica, Cassius hurried down the steps, Major by his side. Simo had been sent ahead to find the carriage driver, and the vehicle now stood at rest ahead of them, one of a long line picking up late-working bureaucrats. To the left a small crowd had formed around a pair of drummers, to the right were a noisy group of toga-clad young men; students perhaps. Major edged closer to Cassius as they passed between the two groups. They were almost at the carriage when a female voice called out.

‘Master Corbulo, sir.’

The voice seemed to have come from the left, but when he looked that way, Cassius saw only a stocky man hurrying towards him. He had a large, sheathed dagger on his belt. Major darted in front of Cassius and drew his knife.

Then a girl stepped out from behind the man. Bacara.

‘It’s all right, Major,’ Cassius said. ‘I know her.’

‘And him?’ asked the bodyguard.

Bacara pushed past her friend. ‘Master Corbulo, this is Silus – Nabor’s brother. He knows who killed him. And he knows all about the silver and gold.’

Cassius took a moment to absorb what the girl had said. He looked around, unsure what to do. It would be unwise to stay in this crowded, open place for long, he knew that much.

Silus was about thirty, and carried himself with a certain swagger; he didn’t seem overly concerned about the big man with the knife standing three paces in front of him.

‘Put the blade away, Major,’ Cassius said.

The bodyguard did so.

‘We need to talk,’ Cassius told the girl.

‘Not here,’ said Silus.

‘Agreed. Simo, you go up with the driver. Back to the villa.’ He turned to Bacara and Silus. ‘You two: get in.’

Cassius opened the door to the carriage. Silus helped Bacara up then climbed in himself. Major gestured for Cassius to go first, then clambered up behind him. The carriage was designed for four; but with the three big men inside there was little space. With a cry, the driver set the horses off and the carriage bumped away down the street.

‘Well, speak up,’ said Cassius, looking first at Bacara, then Silus.

‘Like she said, I know who killed Nabor, I know who has all that treasure, and I know where it is.’

Cassius tried to keep his expression neutral but excitement surged within him. After all the trails, dead-ends and guesswork, was this the break he and Abascantius so desperately needed?

Silus continued: ‘I’ll tell you what I know because I want revenge for my brother. But I have conditions.’

‘Go on.’

‘I had a part in it myself. I want a written guarantee that I cannot be punished for my involvement.’

‘I’ll have to—’

‘There’s more. Once I’ve told you all I know, you must let me go immediately and pledge not to try to find me again. I will be in danger, and I must leave Antioch. The girl too.’

‘If you really know all you say you do, I’m confident accommodations can be made, but I cannot authorise any of that myself.’

‘Then take me to someone who can.’

Abascantius wasn’t at home. Shostra had let them in, and he now stood in a corner of the courtyard, watching Silus and Bacara, who sat together on one of the stone benches, occasionally exchanging a hushed word. Simo was wandering the orchard, inspecting the trees. Major had picked an apple and was now slicing it up with his dagger.

Cassius had been unable to settle; first sitting down, then pacing around, and he was on the verge of insisting that Silus tell him what he knew when Abascantius finally returned. Shostra went to meet him and his master came straight outside.

‘Well, who are they?’ the agent whispered, looking over Cassius’s shoulder.

‘The girl is named Bacara – the one who led us to Octobrianus’s villa. The man is Nabor’s brother Silus. Says he knows all about the silver and gold. And that he was part of the scheme too.’

Abascantius’s eyes widened; but before he could step past, Cassius held up a hand.

‘Sir, he has some demands.’

Abascantius nodded. ‘Let’s hear him out.’

Silus and Bacara rose as the agent approached but he waved them back down. ‘Stay, stay there. We shall be here a while.’ He dropped his cape on to the other bench then sat down next to it.

Indavara appeared in the doorway, looking out at the courtyard. Cassius ignored him and sat next to Abascantius, who pointed at Simo and Major.

‘You two inside. And you, Indavara.’ He waited for the trio to disappear, then hunched forward, hands clasped together between his knees.

‘You know me?’

Silus shook his head.

‘You know my name? Aulus Celatus Abascantius.’

Silus nodded.

‘Then you know the power I have. If all you tell me is true, I’ll do my best for you. If not – if you mislead me – the consequences will be serious.’

‘All very interesting, sir, but it is I who will dictate terms.’

Abascantius scowled at this but he listened to Silus’s demands before replying.

‘Men have been killed. Good men. You admit to being part of this scheme and yet you expect me to guarantee your freedom from prosecution or punishment?’

‘There’s no blood on my hands. The only dead man I know of is my brother. I didn’t steal the treasure. I just helped to unload it.’

‘It’s here? It’s still in the city?’

‘You’re getting ahead of yourself,’ Silus said calmly. ‘I need a written agreement before we go any further.’

‘We’ve got a smart one here, eh, Corbulo?’ said Abascantius. ‘Let’s see if you know as much as you claim, young man. What has all this treasure been stored in?’

‘If I answer correctly, you’ll give me what I want?’

‘You have my word.’

‘Eighteen small barrels.’

Abascantius yelled at Shostra to bring papyrus and a reed-pen. The four of them waited in silence until the attendant came, also carrying a wooden writing block which he placed on the table. As Abascantius put the sheet on the block, Shostra handed Cassius two rolled-up sheets tied with twine.

‘I forgot. These came for you. One late last night, one this morning.’

The first of the letters had been sealed and although most of the wax had worn away, Cassius assumed it was from Prefect Venator; nobody else knew to contact him at this address. He opened it and – momentarily forgetting about the code – was bemused to see the apparently random series of letters. He put it to one side for a moment.

Abascantius had written out a simple signed declaration agreeing to all of Silus’s terms. He grinned slyly as he handed it over.

‘Shall I read it for you?’

‘I know my words well enough.’

As the young man checked it, Cassius wondered how much legal weight such a document might have; or whether Abascantius would feel even vaguely obliged to honour it. The agent hunched forward again.

‘Now tell me. Who has it?’

Silus glanced briefly at Bacara, then up at the darkening sky, and finally at Abascantius.

‘Procurator Octobrianus. All eighteen barrels are neatly piled up in a warehouse at the back of the imperial mint.’

For a moment, Abascantius said nothing, apparently unable to accept that the man he suspected really was behind the theft. He scratched at his chin.

‘You’re sure of this?’

‘I’m supposed to be there again this evening – for another job.’

‘Did you see anything of a standard – a large, jewelled flag?’

‘No.’

‘Start at the beginning.’

‘Nabor came to see me, said Octobrianus wanted us for some special job, even though we’d not worked for him in years. The money was good, so I agreed.’

‘When was this?’

‘About two weeks ago.’

Abascantius turned to Cassius, who had already made a few calculations – about a week after the cart was ambushed. He nodded.

‘Go on,’ instructed Abascantius.

‘We met him at his villa at midnight, then the three of us went to get this cart. It was behind some warehouse up in the hills. There was a man there.’

‘Did you get a name?’

‘No. But he was funny-looking. Sort of old before his time.’

‘Lined face?’ Cassius interjected. ‘Wild hair?’

Silus nodded.

Abascantius gave a grim smile. ‘And his hands?’ asked the agent. ‘Did he have any fingers missing?’

‘I didn’t notice. It was night, and he left once we took the cart.’

‘Continue.’

‘I drove. Octobrianus followed some distance behind on his horse. He told us that if we came across any city sergeants, we were to keep quiet and let him handle them; but we never saw anyone. It wasn’t far to the mint. He unlocked the gate and we took the cart around to a warehouse at the back. Then we started to unload the barrels. They were small but heavy – very, very heavy. We could only just lift one together. To start with Octobrianus watched us, then he went to check the gate. One of the barrel lids came off and we saw the old coins on top. Nabor had a look underneath – that’s when he took the necklace. There was another barrel coming apart; we saw the silver and gold, though we made sure Octobrianus didn’t know it. When the barrels were all unloaded he paid us twenty denarii each and said he would need us again soon for another job. He told us what to expect if we told anyone. We left. I told Nabor he’d been an idiot but as usual he didn’t listen. I hadn’t seen him for a few days, then I saw Bacara here and heard what’d happened to him.’

Silus took a breath and shook his head. Bacara put a hand on his arm.

‘Octobrianus must have found out,’ he continued. ‘Apparently the fool had shown off the necklace in half a dozen inns. Then yesterday I get this note, asking if Nabor and me can come to the mint again for this job today, asking where Nabor is – like he didn’t know. He said he really only needed me – I’d get all the money. I dare say he planned to knock me off too once I’d done what he wanted.’

‘When are you supposed to be there?’

‘The second hour of night.’

‘What’s your profession?’

‘At present I work a furnace, like Nabor.’

Abascantius turned to Cassius, who was already nodding.

‘The Palmyran brands,’ said the agent. ‘He means to have them taken off the ingots. Then he can sell them on. Gods, we can catch him there red-handed. Crafty son of a bitch – the mint’s not been used since the occupation.’

‘Is there anything else you can think of?’ Cassius asked Silus.

‘No. What will happen to him?’

‘He’ll hang. Or burn,’ replied Abascantius.

‘Is that a promise?’

‘Oh, it’s a guarantee.’

‘Can we leave now?’

‘You may.’ Abascantius stood up. ‘Shostra, see these people out, then find my sword. And send Indavara and Major out here.’

Bacara and Silus followed the servant out of the courtyard.

‘Don’t worry,’ Abascantius told Cassius quietly, ‘I’ll have them followed, just to be sure.’ He glanced down at the letter. ‘Who’s that from?’

‘Prefect Venator,’ replied Cassius. ‘But we need a cipher book.’

‘I don’t.’

Abascantius grabbed the letter and sat down again, studying it intently. Cassius unrolled the second letter. It was not encoded and had been sent by the Chief Clerk of the Fourth Legion at Zeugma, on the instructions of Venator. Transcribed below the brief message was a copy of a personal record. Cassius knew the name.

‘You were right,’ announced Abascantius. ‘Centurion Tarquinius went missing from Zeugma six days ago.’ The agent stared across the orchard, tapping the letter against his leg. ‘He must be working with Octobrianus. This two-fingered character too. What’s that there?’

‘Tarquinius’s record.’

Though Cassius was staring down at it, his thoughts were racing too fast to absorb what was written. He forced himself to focus on the words. Tarquinius had been in the army for twenty-two years, but only five of them with the infantry. He had started out as a cavalryman and spent seventeen years with the mounted detachment of the Third Cohort, Sixteenth Legion.

Cassius opened his satchel and found the list they had started at the basilica. Abascantius looked over his shoulder as he read. There was only one cavalryman there who’d been invalided out of the Third Cohort; and he had joined long after General Ulpian had moved on.

He had, however, served at the same time as Tarquinius. Cavalry detachments were comparatively small – the men would have known each other. Justius Pythion was the cavalryman’s name; and the description of the injury that had forced him to leave service four years previously was pleasingly precise:
Lost three digits on right hand.

There was even an address listed: an apartment in the south-east of the city.

Abascantius slapped the page. He and Cassius spoke simultaneously: ‘Two Fingers.’