The Siege (22 page)

‘Is that so?’ asked Cassius, looking at Statius, the older of the two.

‘Yes, sir. Antonius had gone out on time and Barates returned in the early hours. He said there was no change in the position of the lights and went on his way to the stables.’

‘He got that far,’ added Crispus. ‘His camel’s in there.’

‘Nothing else?’ asked Strabo.

Statius and Gemellus looked at each other, then shook their heads. Attention turned to Avso.

‘Did
you
observe his return?’ asked Cassius.

‘No. I was patrolling the perimeter, walking squares about a hundred yards out. I called in at the gatehouse a few times. These two told me Barates was back.’

‘You saw nothing else. Nothing unusual?’

‘No,’ answered Avso quickly, growing ever more defensive. ‘I would have told you.’

‘And where’s Flavian?’ enquired Strabo.

‘The barracks I expect,’ said Avso with a scowl. ‘He was of little use to me. Kept falling over his feet and complaining, so I sent him inside.’

‘When?’ asked Cassius.

‘Three or four hours before dawn I think.’

‘Before or after Barates’ return?’ asked Strabo.

Avso hesitated, clearly angry that he had to endure such questioning.

‘Around the same time,’ he said, his words quiet and deliberate.

‘Go and get him,’ ordered Strabo.

‘I’m not your lackey,’ retorted Avso. ‘Fetch him yourself.’

The Thracian turned to Cassius.

‘And why I am being interrogated so? Hasn’t it occurred to you that this may be the work of some scout or spy who managed to get over the wall?’

‘Assuming you were doing your job,’ Strabo said, ‘that seems unlikely.’

‘Less likely than Flavian or me being responsible?’ demanded Avso.

Strabo shrugged. It seemed to Cassius that he was more interested in annoying his rival than extracting useful information from him.

‘Of course not,’ Cassius said. ‘But we must establish the order of events.’

‘Then again,’ said Strabo, ‘you were the one talking about slitting throats yesterday.’

This was enough for Avso, who barged Gemellus to one side and would have gone for Strabo had Cassius and Crispus not blocked his way. Cassius held a hand up to Avso’s chest.

‘Ignore him. Just fetch Flavian, would you? Then we can clear this up.’

‘He goes too far,’ said Avso through gritted teeth.

‘I agree. Please.’

With one last malevolent stare, Avso started towards the barracks. Cassius spun round to face the Sicilian, unable to contain his frustration any longer.

‘Have you no sense? A man lies dead and you would rather look for a fight than for answers. Where is your honour, man?’

‘All right,’ Strabo said after a while. ‘I wish only to see this murderer caught.’

Cassius ordered Statius and Gemellus back to the gatehouse. Crispus was tasked with keeping the rest of the legionaries in the barracks.

‘You cannot make such baseless intimations,’ Cassius told Strabo when they were alone. ‘Such a matter must be investigated in the proper manner.’

The Sicilian shook his head.

‘For it to happen now, of all times.’

‘We must not let this distract us from the defence. Think about what still needs doing and hand out details to every section. If they finish, drill them. Keep them busy.’

Strabo gestured towards the body.

‘What about—’

‘I’ll deal with that. Just do as I ask.’

As Strabo departed, Kabir arrived with one of his men a few yards behind. The Syrian stopped a respectful distance from the body, recited a short prayer, then raised a hand towards the rising sun.

‘My condolences, centurion. I do not understand how such a thing could happen. Amongst all here, my men and yours, he was perhaps the most liked.’

‘Perhaps, but somebody did this. I’ll need to question you and your men. Your camp is—’

‘I have already done that.’ Kabir gestured to the other Syrian. ‘Nidar here is the only one with anything to report.’

‘And?’

‘I always post a sentry for our camp and he took his turn last night. He saw a man behaving oddly in the darkest hours – creeping round the side of the granary. He assumed he was after food or wine, though he wasn’t carrying anything. After a few moments he disappeared.’

‘Who was it? Did he recognise him.’

‘Yes. There was a little moonlight and he is quite distinctive. A big man, with curls in his hair.’

‘Flavian. You mean Flavian.’

‘Yes. That’s him.’

Simo and Gemellus had wrapped the corpse in a sheet then carried it over to the aid post. Cassius had watched as the small, limp form – borne easily by the two men – had disappeared from view. He found it hard to reconcile such a sight with the energy and ready warmth that had defined Barates in life. It seemed to him that this broken, lifeless body had simply materialised somehow and that the man himself had disappeared; not that they were one and the same.

Now, leaning against the desk and staring expectantly at the door of the officers’ quarters, Cassius waited for Flavian and Avso. He was relieved Strabo hadn’t heard what Kabir had told him, but was apprehensive about facing the legionaries alone. With an assurance from the Syrian that the information would go no further, he could at least keep his enquiries contained. The last thing he needed was the Sicilian charging around making accusations, and there was no telling how the murder might affect the rest of the men.

Avso was first in. With a wary glance at Cassius, he ushered a dishevelled Flavian inside and shut the door behind him. Flavian waited until Avso moved forward to approach the desk.

Wondering what words had passed between them, Cassius began.

‘You’ve heard about Barates, I presume?’

Flavian nodded.

‘Avso tells me you were sent inside sometime during the night. Did you see him?’

‘No.’

‘I’ve been thinking,’ added Avso. ‘It was sometime after that the others told me of Barates’ return. Flavian wasn’t—’

‘The legionary can answer for himself,’ Cassius said. ‘You returned to the barracks immediately?’

‘Yes. I was tired. No use to anyone.’

‘And you didn’t leave there at all?’

‘No. I awoke to all the fuss. Then Avso came and fetched me.’

Cassius hesitated. Flavian was lying, that much was certain, but he was convinced Avso was also somehow involved. There was more chance of gleaning something useful without the sly Thracian in the room.

‘I’d like a word with Legionary Flavian in private. There’s plenty for you to be getting along with, Avso.’

If he was concerned, the Thracian did a good job of hiding it. He left silently with no more than a blank glance at his friend. Though Flavian was unarmed and there were others close by outside, Cassius was glad to have the desk between him and the burly legionary.

‘I’ll ask you this once more, and you must consider your answer very carefully. You are saying that you returned from patrol, saw no sign of Barates and proceeded directly to the barrack block, where you remained until you were woken. Is that correct?’

Flavian’s eyes dropped to the floor for a moment. When he looked up, his expression had changed. Before he could answer, there was a sharp rap on the door.

Cassius ignored it.

‘Answer me, man.’

Flavian swallowed hard and Cassius could now see something close to fear in his eyes.

‘Sir!’

It was the voice of Crispus. He hammered on the door again.

Cassius hurried over to the window and stuck his head out.

‘What is it?’

Circumspect as ever, Crispus looked carefully round before moving in close and answering in a whisper.

‘The signal fire is alight, sir. The Palmyrans are coming.’

XX

Without breaking stride, Cassius leaped up on to a firing step and threw his arms over the dusty wall. Despite Crispus’ efforts, word had spread quickly and half the garrison were already there. Some were in the gatehouse, some were on the other steps; all were facing east. What they saw was a bloom of fire atop the crest and wisps of smoke drifting high into the windless sky. There was as yet no sign of the Palmyrans. The only figure in view was Antonius, riding hard back to the fort. He had covered about a third of the distance already.

The men were cursing and shouting. Cassius looked for his deputies, anxious to restore order. He had been forced to interrupt his questioning of Flavian and now saw him deep in conversation with Avso.

‘Centurion!’

Serenus arrived at the wall.

‘Shall we gather the men?’

‘Certainly.’

Cassius jumped down and saw that the rest of the legionaries were now up and running through the gap in the carts, eager to join the others at the wall.

‘But they’ll all want a good look, I’m sure. We’ll let them have it, then call muster.’

Strabo, who had just exited the gatehouse, spotted Cassius at once. Dodging through the throng, he hurried over, casting a suspicious glance at Avso and Flavian.

‘What are your orders?’ he said, almost having to shout above the noise.

Cassius looked round. The last of the men were now up on the wall and had seen what little there was to see.

‘That’ll do. Get them lined up in the square.’

‘In kit?’ queried Serenus.

‘No. That can wait.’

Strabo began yelling orders. Only the most cooperative complied at once and it took a good deal of persuasion from him and Serenus to drag them all away from the wall. Cassius looked on, trying to put all thoughts of the Palmyrans out of his mind for just a little longer. Avso and Flavian drifted away with the rest of their section. Cassius knew he had missed a vital opportunity, one he might not get again.

The auxiliaries had also seen the signal fire: Kabir and several others were already up on the dwelling roof. Cassius felt his eyes upon him but he hurried after the men. The Syrian would have to wait.

He had to find out more about the night’s events. Questioning the men together was hardly ideal but there was no time for anything more subtle.

Under direction from Strabo, the sections were quickly organised into five well-ordered lines facing the flagpole. Serenus and Avso stood on the barracks side, with Strabo in his favoured position close to the granary. Even this scene felt so different without Barates. Cassius looked up at the flag the veteran had raised. As usual, and as now seemed fitting, the flag hung limply in the clinging heat, the golden bull obscured by its folds.

Cassius stood a little closer to the men than normal, keen not to miss any reaction to his words.

‘This is a dark day. And not only because of what we see to the east. Barates has been murdered, his throat cut.’

Cassius gestured towards the aid post.

‘He lies there now. Somebody within these four walls is responsible. I intend to find out who.’

A few of the legionaries muttered curses or shook their heads.

‘Think carefully about these two questions. First, did you see Barates after his return from the crest? Second, did you see or hear anything else unusual during the hours of night?’

Scanning along each line in turn, Cassius noted that Flavian had positioned himself about as far away from Avso as he could.

No hands were raised. Nothing was said.

‘Think,’ added Strabo. ‘Every one of you. Somebody knows something.’

Silence.

‘Then let me ask this,’ Cassius continued. ‘Did any of you, for any reason, leave the barracks during the hours of night?’

More silence. One man coughed. Others looked up at a buzzard lazily circling high above the fort.

Cassius suddenly felt foolish. It bordered on the idiotic to believe that posing such questions to the entire garrison would reveal anything of use.

‘Well, so be it. But mark these words: whatever our situation, the perpetrator of this crime will face the full force of Roman justice, as will any accomplice.’

‘That applies to our Syrian friends too, I presume,’ said a familiar voice.

Cassius immediately locked eyes with Avso, who gazed calmly back at him.

‘Of course. I will spare no effort to uncover the truth.’

The Thracian’s words had obviously been for the benefit of the other legionaries, designed to divert suspicion from his friend while the chance presented itself. Cassius continued.

‘That issue lies in the hands of myself and my deputies. It seems that we now face attack. We are well prepared and organised. We have allies: those fighting alongside us, those coming to our aid.’

As he spoke, Cassius was struck by the change in the men before him. Fear was not absent, it was palpable – the signal fire had seen to that – but it was partnered with a fresh sense of ordered resolve.

‘Equip yourselves, arm yourselves, then gather outside the barracks. Dismissed!’

The men hurried away, several bypassing the doorway and vaulting straight through the windows into the barracks.

‘Crispus! Statius!’

The two legionaries reversed course.

‘Statius, get yourself over to the gatehouse. You’re on watch. Crispus, the third section is yours now. I don’t like to lose you, but it makes sense.’

‘Sir.’

Serenus and Strabo arrived.

‘Well?’ said the Sicilian.

‘Well what?’ said Cassius.

‘What are we doing? What’s the plan?’

‘We arm ourselves, man the walls and wait.’

‘And then?’

‘That rather depends on our enemies, doesn’t it?’

‘It does,’ agreed Serenus. ‘Once we see our foe’s numbers and how they arrange themselves, we will have to adapt and improvise. But we can establish our basic options, including the Praetorian’s plan, and relate them to the men. Otherwise doubt and uncertainty will spread. I’ve seen it before.’