The Imperial Banner (60 page)

On the other side of the table were the Romans. They too were dressed in normal attire, with only Governor Gordio in a toga. He glanced nervously at the imposing figure next to him. With his cropped brown hair, bronzed skin and compact physique, Marshall Marcellinus looked every inch the man of action. Only the purple edging on his tunic hinted at his status as Aurelian’s second-in-command.

To his left were General Ulpian, and the slight, rather incongruous figure of Procurator Octobrianus. Both men looked on anxiously. Magistrate Quarto completed the party, hands clasped together over his stomach as he peered down at the old Persian. The only other men in the meeting chamber were five Persian soldiers, eight Praetorian guardsmen, and one African bodyguard.

The old man seemed to have checked every last inch of the flag. He laid it flat on the table; pushing down each fold, straightening each edge. Then he turned round and nodded.

Hormizd smiled. Marcellinus started clapping. The rest of the party joined in; and then Marcellinus and Gordio came forward to talk with the Persian Emperor and his ministers. At a click of the fingers from Octobrianus, two clerks came trotting in carrying a leather case and writing equipment.

Abascantius turned from the scene below, mimicked wiping sweat from his brow, and grinned. He moved away from the thick column he and Cassius had been standing behind and tiptoed towards the doorway at the corner of the first-floor gallery. He was – by his own standards – dressed smartly, in a largely stain-free tunic and a light cape.

He had insisted they both take off their sandals, and not a word was said as they made their way down the stairs, then sat down and put them on again, watched impassively by two more Praetorian guardsmen. A long, empty corridor took them to the door at the rear of the forum, where another guardsman let them out, locking the door behind them. Abascantius tapped his fingers against his belt as he looked up at the cloudless blue sky.

‘Thank the gods.’

He glanced at Cassius as they started away along the street.

‘You did well, Corbulo. It’s a shame you won’t ever be able to tell anyone about this little venture, but by Jupiter you did well.’

‘Thank you, sir. I wish I could say it’s been a pleasure but this has quite easily been the second worst month of my life.’

Abascantius chuckled as he led Cassius around a corner. It was mid-afternoon and the warm city streets were quiet. He shook his head. ‘A robbery. A simple robbery.’

‘Not that simple, sir.’

‘You know what I mean. I was so convinced we were investigating some dire web of intrigue, I couldn’t see the wood for the trees. Perhaps I’ve been in this job too long. How’s the head?’

Cassius touched the hard bump and scabbed skin on the left side of his skull. ‘Your surgeon friend seemed to think it will heal well, sir. Thank you for sending him along. He gave Simo an entire page of instructions.’

‘You’ve a good man there, Corbulo – Christian or not.’

‘I know it, sir.’

‘You must at least be a little refreshed after a few days of rest. What did you do with yourself?’

‘Slept mostly. Indavara too. He’s been even quieter than normal. I think being dunked in the Orontes shook him up more than taking on those Palestinian brutes.’

‘He really is quite exceptional. Alikar and his men were notorious, known in every city from here to their homeland. To think he took them on alone and came out on top. And jumping out of that tower window – by the gods – he must have balls the size of ostrich eggs. I do hope we can keep him on.’

‘What about Scaurus, sir?’ Cassius asked as they ducked under a low awning. ‘I heard his execution has been announced.’

‘He’ll be lunch for the beasts at the next games. Quarto and Ulpian are personally taking charge of the arrangements – wild dogs, I gather. Would you like a ticket? I’m planning to make quite a day of it.’

Cassius’s stomach churned. He wouldn’t spare a moment to sympathise with Scaurus, but he’d had more than his fill of violence and death over the last few weeks.

‘No thank you, sir. I must say I was surprised Marshal Marcellinus decided not to keep the whole affair quiet.’

‘That would have been difficult. Better to tell nine-tenths of the truth. Only the issue of the standard is to be kept secret. Our Persian friends have no idea there was even a problem.’

‘And how does the marshal view the Service’s part in all this, sir?’

Abascantius looked at Cassius as they rounded a sprawling fruit stall, then hopped back on to the pavement.

‘Diplomatically put, Corbulo. But let’s be honest: I was roundly outwitted by Scaurus. If not for your efforts, I’ve little doubt I’d be on my way to that mine in Thessalonica I threatened you with. But he made fools of Ulpian and Quarto too, and I hear Gordio got a fairly substantial slap on the wrist from Marcellinus for putting me behind bars. As long as Chief Pulcher has the ear of the Emperor, I should think my position is secure. I shall simply have to keep my head down for a bit.’

‘And Octobrianus?’

Abascantius spat on the ground. ‘I had to write a letter of apology, would you believe? But he’ll put a foot wrong sooner or later. And I’ll make sure I’m there when he does.’

‘Er, sir, where exactly are we going?’

Abascantius smiled as he led Cassius down a narrow side street. ‘This way.’

Standing outside a dingy arched doorway was a bulky individual picking his nose. Abascantius threw him a coin and hurried past him through a beaded curtain. The inn was a grimy little place, with a bar in one corner and half a dozen patrons gathered round a large table, playing dice. One man gave a roar; the others groaned.

Seeing Abascantius arrive, a small man hurried out from behind the bar and silently led them past the gamblers to another door. He produced a key from a pocket on his apron and opened it for them.

‘Still got that ten-year-old Nomentamum?’ Abascantius enquired as he led Cassius through the doorway.

‘I have.’

‘Bring some. And six of your best glasses.’

The innkeeper nodded and shut the door behind them. The narrow corridor was lined with empty bottles of every possible size, shape and description. Beyond a stack of stools was another door on the right. Abascantius rapped on it. Shostra opened up.

They entered a small, murky room lit only by a skylight, around which were perched several birds, chirruping away merrily. Sitting at a table facing the door was Lady Antonia. She was as well turned-out as ever: skin flawless, hair piled high; and wearing a hooded green cape over her stola. She cast an impatient stare at Abascantius, but her expression softened into a smile when she saw Cassius.

Simo was sitting opposite her. He stood and hurried over. ‘What’s this all about, sir? Shostra fetched us from the villa.’

Cassius shrugged and looked past the Gaul at Indavara. He was standing in the corner, one foot up against the wall, arms crossed. Under his sleeveless tunic, Cassius could see the bandages Simo had wrapped around the welts on his side.

‘Have a seat, Corbulo,’ Abascantius said, gesturing to the table. ‘You too, Indavara.’

They sat down: Indavara opposite Abascantius, who remained standing; Cassius next to Simo. Shostra shut the door, retrieved a wicker basket from below the table and placed it in front of his master. There was a cloth across the top.

‘Are we going for a picnic?’ asked Lady Antonia.

Cassius laughed.

Abascantius took the jibe in good heart and removed the cloth. ‘All will be revealed, my dear.’

‘Quickly, I hope. I’ve been waiting in this hole for half an hour.’

‘If you’re happy to make our association public, we can of course choose another locale.’

Antonia nodded begrudgingly.

Abascantius leaned forward and planted his hands on the table. ‘It’s unfortunate that I cannot share with all of you the precise details of the events we’ve been involved in, but everyone here has been of great help to me in the last few weeks. And I was in very great need of help.’

‘My, my,’ interjected Antonia. ‘Humility. I do believe you’re mellowing in your old age, Aulus.’

Abascantius continued undetered: ‘In stopping Scaurus, you not only prevented one of the most audacious crimes ever committed against the Empire, but you may also have helped secure peace in this region, possibly for years to come. I have dispatched missives describing what occurred to both Chief Pulcher and the Emperor himself, and I have no doubt that they will add their profound gratitude to mine. Now – some tokens of that gratitude. Never let it be said that the Service doesn’t reward those who do their duty.’

Cassius felt rather thrilled by what he heard. Not thrilled enough to make any of the nightmarish last few weeks seem worthwhile but proud nonetheless. He imagined returning home to a hero’s reception back in Ravenna, the warm congratulations of family and friends. No such luck.

Abascantius reached into the basket and pulled out three silver ingots. He passed one to Lady Antonia, one to Indavara, and one to Cassius.

‘I checked the prices this morning. Those are worth over two hundred aurei each. They are unmarked.’

‘And how did you reward yourself, Aulus?’ asked Antonia.

Abascantius placed his hand on his heart. ‘The privilege of serving the Emperor is reward enough,’ he said, with a gusto that bordered on convincing.

Antonia smiled.

‘Now – for you,’ said Abascantius, glancing at Simo. He took out a folded sheet of papyrus from the basket and handed it over. ‘Your master told me what you did.’

Simo stood and bowed.

‘Read it.’

As the Gaul did so, Abascantius caught Cassius’s eye.

‘A pardon for his father. Him and only him, I’m afraid, but he’s free to leave the prison. He’ll have to do some time on a work crew but no charges will be brought, and he need not pledge his allegiance to Domnus.’

‘And the others?’

‘That’s up to Gordio.’

‘You think he’ll leave?’ Cassius asked Simo.

‘I don’t know, sir. But I shall certainly tell him that he should.’ The Gaul turned to Abascantius. ‘Thank you, sir.’

Cassius slid his silver ingot back across the table to Abascantius. ‘Sir, would you give this to Major’s family for me?’

‘I told you I’d take care of that.’

‘The man gave his life, sir.’

Abascantius examined Cassius’s face for a moment, then took the ingot. ‘Very well.’

A knock at the door. Shostra opened it and took the tray from the innkeeper.

‘One for all of us,’ ordered Abascantius as the attendant poured the wine.

A rich, fruity aroma reached Cassius’s nose.

‘Not for me,’ said Lady Antonia as she stood, leaving the ingot on the table. ‘I can see the dust on those glasses from here.’

‘Come, Antonia – drink with us,’ implored Abascantius.

‘Aulus, it’s the middle of the afternoon. I should be asleep.’ She nodded down at the ingot. ‘Thank you for that though – an unusually timely and generous payment. But I shall not carry it around with me. Have it sent over later, would you?’

‘Of course. And entirely well deserved it is too. Who else could have persuaded the Emperor’s deputy to halt his column and come to our aid?’

‘Emperor’s deputy or not – a man is a man.’

‘May I?’

Abascantius took Lady Antonia’s hand and kissed it.

She walked towards the door.

Cassius stood up.

‘Good-day.’

‘Good-day.’

Antonia leaned in close and whispered in his ear. ‘Don’t forget my offer. I have my carriage outside. I shall only wait for a few moments – no longer.’

Cassius reddened as she left. He tried to ignore the speculative glint in Abascantius’s eye as he took his drink.

Simo declined his glass of wine.

‘No, no. I insist,’ said Abascantius.

Simo took a glass, as did Indavara.

‘To success!’ declared Abascantius.

They raised their glasses and drank. Cassius savoured the sweet, powerful wine. Nomentamum was one of his father’s favourites; it was extremely expensive, and very hard to come by outside Italy.

Another knock on the door. It turned out to be Salvian; and the portly operative was carrying a letter. Abascantius went over to speak with him.

Cassius turned to the others. Indavara put down his already empty glass.

‘Well,’ said Cassius. ‘As this seems to be an occasion for giving gifts – Simo.’

The Gaul reached into Cassius’s satchel, which was hanging from his chair. He pulled out an object a little longer than his hand, wrapped in cloth. He passed it to Cassius, who then presented it to Indavara.

‘For you.’

Indavara took the object and unwrapped it carefully. It was an immaculately rendered figurine.

‘Fortuna,’ Indavara said.

‘Silver leaf. Best you can buy,’ stated Cassius.

‘I shall still keep the old one.’

‘Of course.’

‘Thank you,’ said Indavara with an awkward little nod.

‘Quite literally the least I could do. I wouldn’t be here if not for you.’

‘Me neither if you two hadn’t fished me out of that river.’

Cassius shrugged. ‘Let’s call it even.’

‘Not quite – don’t forget the inn at Palmyra.’

‘But what about the baths?’

Cassius kept up a serious expression for a moment, as did Indavara, but then they both cracked into broad smiles.

‘Fair point,’ said the bodyguard. ‘Even it is.’

‘So what are your plans?’ Cassius asked.

Before Indavara could reply, Abascantius spoke up.

‘Gentlemen.’

They turned round. The agent was holding up the letter.

‘It seems we have a slightly problematic situation developing in Cilicia.’

Cassius let out a breath and rubbed his brow. ‘Oh no.’

‘Don’t worry, Corbulo; a trifling matter by comparison with this last outing. But I fancy you might be well suited to it. You’ll need your man Simo, of course, and a bodyguard wouldn’t go amiss.’

Abascantius cast a speculative glance at Indavara, who said nothing.

‘Well, you needn’t give me an answer now,’ continued the agent. ‘Perhaps a little later.’

‘No,’ said Cassius. ‘I shall be otherwise occupied for the rest of the day.’