The Imperial Banner (23 page)

‘Get that surgeon. Two injured coming in.’

‘What?’

‘The surgeon. The local. Get him.’

Lucan followed the legionary outside.

Cassius downed his wine. He was almost to the door when another soldier hurried in. He was tall and muscular, and his helmet bore the horse-hair plumes of an officer.

‘Who are you?’ he demanded.

‘Corbulo. Governor’s Office. Optio Surex, I presume.’

Surex nodded, then pushed past Cassius.

‘Clear this shit off the table.’

Simo grabbed the cups and the bottle.

‘We’ll need that water though,’ added the optio.

The door into the parlour was narrow, and it took Surex and his legionaries a while to get the first wounded man inside and on to the table. Half of the arrow sticking out of his upper right arm had been snapped off. There wasn’t a lot of blood but the head had sunk two inches into his flesh.

‘Get some wine for him, someone – the strongest you can find,’ said Surex as he checked the wound.

Simo touched Cassius’s arm and shook his head. ‘He should be kept awake. Whatever the pain, it’s better to keep him conscious.’

Cassius had learned to trust Simo’s judgement on medical matters. After his experiences dealing with injured soldiers two years earlier, he had pursued a keen interest in the treatment of disease and injury; and had built up quite a little library on the subject. When he needed money for books, Cassius always gave it gladly; he felt it was in his interest to do so. He tapped the optio on the shoulder.

‘Surex, let my man treat him.’

‘You think I’ve never dealt with an arrow wound before?’

From what Cassius had seen of soldiers, their knowledge of medical care was at best basic and at worst downright dangerous.

‘Trust me – he knows what he’s doing.’

Simo moved forward. ‘May I?’

Surex looked at Simo for a moment, then backed away.

The Gaul asked the man’s name and gave him some water. He asked one of the other soldiers to open the curtains to admit more light, then examined the wound.

‘Move back, you lot,’ ordered Surex. ‘Give the man space to work.’

‘That’s a long bolt,’ Cassius said, nodding at the arrow. ‘Palmyran?’

Surex looked him up and down. Cassius knew exactly what the optio would be thinking: an ignorant grain man who’d got himself promoted away from situations like this, yet still felt qualified to stick his nose in.

‘What would you know about it, Officer?’

‘Actually, rather more than you might think.’

When Lucan returned with the local surgeon, Simo spoke to the man and they agreed on a plan of treatment. An hour later the arrow was out and the legionary bandaged up and resting. They hadn’t been able to help the other wounded soldier. He had been struck twice in the chest, and was dead by the time the legionaries brought him in.

Cassius and Optio Surex stood in the street, watching as two men carried the wrapped body along the hallway to another room. The innkeeper and his wife looked on, horrified. Cassius turned round and observed the townspeople. A small, curious crowd had gathered earlier and though it had now dispersed, an air of unease remained. He wondered where their loyalties lay. To Palmyra? Rome? Possibly neither.

Surex paced up and down, clicking his knuckles. He had sent small squads to both ends of town to back up the watchmen and guard against any further incursions.

‘So it was an ambush?’ asked Cassius.

‘We were on patrol a couple of miles east. They were behind an outcrop a few hundred feet from us. Just couldn’t get close to them.’

‘Archers?’

‘Swordsmen too. At close quarters we could have made a fight of it but there was no cover. Lucky they didn’t have horses.’

‘You did well to get back with so few injured.’

‘I’ve kept the lads training hard and we managed to outpace them, even carrying shields.’ Surex shook his head and wiped away some of the dirt caked to the bottom of his tunic. ‘Just don’t have enough men here. Wouldn’t know the war was finished, would you?’

‘You think there’s more of them out there? Enough to attack the town?’

‘No idea.’

‘What about the people here? They’d help you?’

‘Some. We’re on reasonable terms with the council.’

‘What about reinforcements?’

Surex tugged at one of the thick tufts of hair on his chin. ‘There are two centuries at Chalcis.’

‘I might be heading that way. Perhaps I can deliver a message for you.’

‘You’re going to risk the road after this?’

‘I don’t have a lot of choice. Might I ask you a favour?’

Surex nodded.

‘Can you ask your men about a large cart that may have come through here in the last two weeks? With a group of around twenty men.’

‘I’ll ask the lads who are here now.’

‘Thank you.’

Cassius followed Surex inside. While the optio headed into the parlour, he continued through to the inn’s courtyard. Here he found Simo, Indavara and Lucan. The clerk was sitting on a bench, hand propping up his chin, eyes closed. Cassius kicked the bench. Lucan’s head dropped off his hand and he woke with a start.

‘I think you need some activity, young man. I’ve a job for you. You two as well.’

Indavara now had his stave, bow and quiver with him.

‘You can leave those here,’ said Cassius.

‘What about these Palmyrans?’

‘I doubt they’ll come into town. Walking around with all those weapons you’ll worry the locals and it’s going to be hard enough to get any cooperation now. Just the sword.’

‘Don’t blame me if things turn nasty.’

‘If you really did kill a seven-foot German and a bear with only a dagger, surely you’re not worried about a few provincial tribesmen?’

Indavara shook his head and put the weapons under the table. Cassius led the others back through the inn.

‘Corbulo.’ Surex stepped out of the parlour. ‘None of this lot remembers anything. I’ll ask the rest when I see them.’

‘Please do. I need to make some enquiries in town. We won’t stray too far.’

Having observed hundreds, probably thousands of servants over the years, Cassius knew how lucky he was to have Simo. As well as his faultless manners and numerous practical skills, the Gaul possessed one other useful attribute: he was good with people. With his warm, gentle character and friendly face, he seemed able to endear himself to almost anyone in a remarkably short period of time.

Cassius had made use of this ability several times while investigating in Cyzicus, recognising that Simo could draw out information that would never be divulged to him. Even if he wasn’t in uniform, Cassius’s voice and manner instantly marked him out as a gentleman and the lower classes were often wary of talking openly to anyone in authority. He was reluctant to rely solely on bribery and threats; Simo provided a useful alternative.

Leaning back against the edge of a well, Cassius watched the Gaul speaking to a pair of peasant women selling vegetables – his tenth such conversation in an hour. Lucan was back at the main road, asking passers-by if they’d seen anything of the men, the cart or its cargo.

Indavara, meanwhile, was exploring the marketplace, on the lookout for new foodstuffs to sample. Unseen by him but noted by Cassius were a group of teenage girls, following the bodyguard from a safe distance, jabbering and giggling. They were a rough-looking bunch: serving wenches stealing an hour off perhaps. Their tatty clothes and dirty faces reminded Cassius of that stupid whore Sabina, yet he couldn’t quite shake off a nagging disappointment that they weren’t following him.

‘Anything?’ he asked when Simo returned.

‘Gossip mostly, sir. But one of their husbands has a stall selling trinkets and such like. He’s at home ill today but she says he’s not heard of anything new or unusual turning up. If anyone would know, he would – or so she said.’

‘All right. I’m beginning to think they bypassed the town completely. We shall see if Lucan’s discovered anything, then return to the inn. We’ve some preparations to make.’

Cassius stood by the window of their room at Addra’s, watching one of his serving girls tidy some tables in the courtyard. She was no beauty but possessed the most wonderfully sleek black hair, and she moved with an easy grace not normally associated with one in her position. She tipped over a mug, then pulled a cloth from her belt to wipe up the water. Cassius indulged himself with a momentary fantasy about taking her up to a room, locking the door and spending the afternoon under the sheets. The moment was soon lost.

‘Will this do, sir?’ asked Simo. He’d returned to the room holding a thin belt.

‘Let’s see.’

Cassius raised his arms as Simo tried the belt.

As expected, Lucan’s enquiries had also yielded nothing of interest so there was no reason to stay in Androna. Once Simo had finished packing they would leave; and Cassius had decided they would travel in disguise.

Simo and Indavara could go as they were, and Cassius needed only to make a few small alterations. He would dispense with his thick military belt and change his red tunic to a white one. The spear-head, his helmet and his scarlet cloak would be well hidden from any prying eyes.

The belt fitted well.

‘I shall just go and pay Master Addra for this and the food and water,’ said Simo.

Indavara was lying on his bed, staring into space.

‘Packed up already?’ asked Cassius.

The bodyguard nodded.

‘Then we shall go over it again.’

Indavara rolled his eyes.

‘Speak,’ said Cassius. ‘You’ve nothing else to do.’

Indavara replied in a tired monotone: ‘You are Cassius Oranius Crispian. A man—’

‘A
Raetian
man.’

‘A Raetian man looking to invest money in mining now that the war is over. You’re surveying the area south of Chalcis to check the state of the mines and see what work is going on. You’ve been in Syria for three weeks and have journeyed north from Palmyra where you were, er . . .’

‘Checking on the caravan trade. Not bad.’

‘Why do
I
have to know it? Nobody ever asks bodyguards anything.’

‘Listen, if we run into a bunch of brigands or Palmyrans, we need to have our story straight. And remember – I am Raetian, not Roman.
Not
Roman.’

‘All right, I’m not stupid. What about me? Where am I from?’

‘By Mars, you’ve a gift for irony, Indavara. You won’t tell me where you’re actually from but you want me to make up an imaginary background for you. Don’t concern yourself. Like you said: nobody ever asks bodyguards anything.’

Indavara reached into a sack of provisions and retrieved a handful of dried apricot.

‘Do you ever stop eating?’

‘So why did these Palmyrans attack the legionaries?’ Indavara asked before sinking his teeth into a piece of fruit. ‘I thought the war was over.’

‘It is, and they were on the losing side. Our Emperor’s army has defeated their beloved queen and taken her back to Rome in chains. Their dream of supplanting us here in the east is over. So they’d like nothing more than to take their revenge on any Roman soldier they come across. Which, despite the fact that we are supposedly back in charge of the province, is why we must now travel incognito.’

‘So they like to use bows, these Palmyrans.’

‘Very effectively, I might add. I’ve had first-hand experience.’

Indavara’s attempt to cover his disbelieving expression with his hand was not entirely successful.

‘I see you doubt me.’

Indavara shrugged and ate another piece of fruit.

Cassius looked out of the window. ‘Well, I’ll not pretend to be much of a warrior, but two years ago, when the Palmyrans first rose against Rome, I found myself at a place not so very far from here. And I saw enough action to last me a lifetime, I can assure you of that.’

He gazed beyond the sprawl of the town, at the dark, straight line that ran north across the barren plain.

‘I’d prefer not to risk the road, believe me. But time is against us, and with every day that passes, the trail of the men we’re after grows colder. We must take our chances.’