The Imperial Banner (54 page)

‘What’s your name, legionary?’

The chief guard rolled his eyes. ‘Optio. Herminius.’

‘Well, Herminius, listen a moment. You are free to ignore me, of course. As you say, I am your prisoner. But you’d better be confident that I will remain on this side of the bars. Personally, I doubt I shall be here much longer than tomorrow, but if you know something I don’t – go ahead, please. Make an enemy of me if you wish.’

Herminius now looked considerably less sure of himself. Before he could reply, a legionary came jogging up the stairs. He hurried over to Herminius and whispered in his ear. After a moment’s thought and a brief glance at Abascantius, the chief guard put his cane on a table and went down the stairs.

Simo had been told to stay by the carriage with the lad. Shostra and the woman – her hood still covering her face – were waiting outside the door to the prison tower. Simo recognised the rough features of Herminius as the chief guard stepped outside. Shostra showed him a letter and they began talking. Herminius shook his head several times.

Then, at a word from Shostra, the woman pulled down her hood. Simo saw that she was indeed fair, with pale, delicate features and long tresses of glossy blonde hair – features rarely seen this far east. Herminius and the two sentries were transfixed. The chief guard dragged his eyes away long enough to examine the letter again. With a last glance at the girl, he nodded, snatched up the letter and returned inside. Shostra sent the girl after him and they both disappeared into the tower. Shaking their heads, the sentries returned to their posts on either side of the door.

Shostra walked back to the carriage with a triumphant smirk on his face.

A quarter of an hour later, Herminius and the girl came out of the tower. The girl already had her hood back up as she trotted towards the carriage.

‘Nighty night,’ called out Herminius, before disappearing up the stairs.

‘Where’s that wine?’ the girl demanded as she climbed into the carriage. Simo detected an unusual accent; he was certain she came from some distant western province.

‘Under the seat,’ answered Shostra.

Simo looked on as she found the bottle, pulled out the cork and took a long swig. He had never seen such a thing.

‘What are you staring at, Fatso?’

‘Apologies, madam.’

Shostra snorted. ‘I wouldn’t worry. She’s no lady.’

He pulled out some coins and gave them to the girl. She put down the wine and counted her money.

‘Take her home,’ Shostra told the lad. ‘Then come back here.’

As the boy turned the carriage around, Shostra chuckled at Simo’s expression. ‘You needn’t look so shocked. Your master’s a grain man too – better get used to dirty dealings.’

‘Now what?’ asked Simo.

‘We wait.’

‘What for?’

‘Orders.’

Abascantius had continued his discussions with his men but his attention switched to the chief guard when he saw the sheet of papyrus in his hand. Indavara sidled along the wall towards the front of the cell; he wanted to know what was going on. Herminius came up to the bars once more.

‘You have some persuasive friends.’

Abascantius nodded at the letter. ‘That’s for me?’

‘I was ordered not to admit visitors for you. Nothing was said about letters.’

‘I’m glad you’re seeing sense.’

‘You mentioned compensation. I have a figure in mind.’

Herminius gestured for Abascantius to come closer and a whispered conversation ensued. At the end of it both men nodded, and Herminius passed the letter through the bars.

‘Your man’s expecting a reply. You have half an hour.’

Abascantius waved the others away and leaned back against the wall as he read the letter. After only a moment he cursed and lashed a kick at the floor. Then he took a few deep breaths and finished reading. When he was done, he asked Herminius for a pen. The chief guard brought one and a pot of ink from the guards’ room and passed them through the bars. Salvian took them and started filling the pen with ink. Abascantius knelt down on the floor, turned the sheet over and pressed it down on to a piece of reed matting.

Indavara went over and squatted next to him. ‘What’s going on, sir?’

‘Not now.’

‘Bloody thing,’ said Salvian, shaking the pen to get the ink flowing. ‘Won’t be a moment.’

Abascantius sighed and turned to Indavara. ‘Looks like Corbulo was on the right trail after all. He may have found out who has what we’re after.’

‘Do those men know? The governor and—’

‘No. Nor can I risk telling him. There’s no way yet to know who else is involved. But if I can get this information to the right person, we still have a chance.’

‘So where is he? Corbulo?’

‘We’re not exactly sure. And that lying rat Silus and his whore girlfriend have vanished into thin air too. I hope Corbulo hasn’t got in over his head. He’s no hope of handling this on his own.’

‘What if I told you I could get us out of here?’ said Indavara. ‘With a little help.’

‘After all the mistakes I’ve made in the last few days, I suppose I should be open to suggestions. Go on.’

When Indavara had finished explaining what he had in mind, Abascantius gave a grim smile.

‘Why in Hades not?’

Simo and Shostra held on tight as the lad urged the horses on through the city streets. Midnight had just passed when the reply came down from Abascantius and they had instantly set off back across the island. As far as Simo could gather, there was some kind of coded message within the letter, which Shostra had been studying for quite a time. Eventually, he spoke:

‘You should know what I’m doing in case you do find that master of yours. I am to fetch Lady Antonia and ride north with a message. Apparently Marshal Marcellinus is on the Tarsus road. My master believes he will listen to her and take charge of the situation.’

‘And what am I to do?’ asked Simo.

‘I shall tell you in a moment – a most unusual task. But first we must check something. Stop here!’

They had just started across Hadrian’s Bridge. As the horses slowed, then halted, Shostra jumped down from the cart and looked over the wall. He spat a curse and smacked his hand against the rough stone.

‘We must move quickly.’

‘What is it?’ asked Simo, joining him at the wall. Below was the dock of the House of the Dolphins.

‘Scaurus’s ship – it’s gone.’

They began early, while the other prisoners and the guards slept. Indavara had claimed the space next to the window and been joined by Abascantius and his men. After the incident with Dexippus, the other collaborators had stayed well clear of the new arrivals, lining the wall on the other side of the cell. The Christians were closer but Abito had given assurances they would do nothing to interfere. Indavara’s main concern was that Dexippus or another troublemaker might notice what they were doing, but there were at least a few heavy snorers to cover the noise of their work.

The grille was a six-foot iron grid that had been nailed around the window. The plaster was old – dry and rotting; and with some coordinated effort the nails could be levered out. Without their daggers, Indavara and the others used whatever they could find: belt buckles, coins, even an old fork. And by the time the very first traces of red appeared on the horizon, the job was done. To the casual eye, the grille would look precisely as it had the previous day, but it was in fact held in place by only six nails: two at the bottom, two at each side.

Abascantius kept watch; and had already decided he would leave the escape bid to the younger, more athletic members of his group. They had all been briefed to try to intercept Scaurus, or at least track him until help arrived from Marcellinus. Salvian had elected to stay behind too but Indavara had gained a little more respect for the agent’s men; they had toiled for several hours.

The guards and the other prisoners were already stirring when Abascantius finally agreed there was enough light to go ahead. Indavara and the other two men quietly readied themselves, tightening their boots and belts. Abascantius and Salvian were just getting into position when a loud voice split the silence.

‘What are you doing?’

One of the prisoners – a slight, sly-looking man who’d been sleeping next to Dexippus – was staring down at the small mounds of plaster and dust below the window. Salvian was closest, but he couldn’t quite get there before the man cried out to the guards. A moment later, Salvian’s right fist struck his mouth, sending him sprawling to the floor, blood leaking from a split lip.

‘Now!’ shouted Indavara.

Abascantius and Salvian reached for the grille.

Herminius burst out of the guardroom, still doing up his belt. He looked inside the cell.

‘Get your spears!’ he cried as he plucked the key from the hook and ran for the door.

Abascantius and Salvian were having trouble; some of the nails were stuck. Indavara ran over to help. He gripped the edge of the grille with both hands.

‘Get away from that window!’ barked Herminius as he opened the door. The other two guards piled past him, spears at the ready. Though they had almost freed the grille, Abascantius and Salvian let go. Indavara turned to find the guards right behind him.

‘I don’t know why you’re trying to get out of a window this high up, but in my book that’s an attempted escape,’ said Herminius. ‘I shall have to take action.’ The chief guard picked up his cane and aimed it at Indavara. ‘Starting with you. Lads, bring him to me. Stick him if he tries anything.’

The guards closed in on Indavara. He darted to his right, dodged past a spear blade with six inches to spare, and ran for the door.

But in an instant, Herminius had kicked it shut behind him. He raised the cane as Indavara charged forward.

One of the Christians was between them. He scurried out of the way, dragging his blanket with him; the blanket on which Indavara’s left foot had just landed. Indavara stumbled past the chief guard and slammed into the unforgiving bars.

As he tried to get up, Herminius lashed the cane against his shoulder: a heavy, stinging blow.

‘Nice try,’ snarled Herminius. ‘Over here, you two.’

Indavara grabbed the bars and pulled himself to his feet. By the time he’d straightened up, the guards had surrounded him.