‘There’s nothing to be found there,’ observed Strabo. ‘Not now anyway.’ He circled the body and knelt down beside the head. Lifting the blanket, he examined the wound.
‘It was just a few moments ago you say?’ asked Cassius.
‘Yes,’ answered Crispus. ‘I had just woken and been to the latrine. I took a look out of the door and saw. . this.’
‘There was no one else in sight?’
‘Not a man, sir. I fetched the guard officer at once.’
‘The blood has dried,’ said Strabo. ‘He’s been dead several hours.’
Cassius looked over at the gatehouse.
‘He intended to return from the crest around midnight. Avso or one of the sentries must have seen him. Fetch them, Crispus. Quickly.’
The legionary hurried away.
As Strabo checked the rest of the body, Cassius got down on his knees and peered under the granary. There was no sign of an abandoned weapon or any other clue.
‘He’s not injured anywhere else,’ said Strabo as they both stood. ‘It was certainly a knife. A precise cut.’
‘Who though?’ It seemed inconceivable that the kindly veteran had even a single enemy within the camp.
‘I cannot imagine. The man deserved better,’ Strabo said bitterly. ‘This is an ignoble death.’
Cassius now found that shock was turning to confusion, aware already that there would be little time for grief. This inexplicable act of violence was the last thing he’d expected. As if the threat hanging over the garrison and the added complication of the Praetorian were not enough, this new horror seemed almost unreal.
The Syrians had realised something was going on; Yarak and another man now stood at the corner of the granary, watching. Strabo was all set to move them off when they abruptly left of their own accord.
Attention then switched to the four figures walking up the street, Crispus and Avso in the lead. Behind them were the legionaries Avso had selected to man the gatehouse.
‘What are their names?’ Cassius asked Strabo.
‘Statius and Gemellus. Originally from the Fourth Legion like Avso and Flavian. Decent enough lads though.’
The grim expression fixed on Avso’s lean face barely changed as he and the others stopped and gazed down at the body.
‘What do you make of that?’ asked Strabo levelly.
Avso said nothing. Crispus spoke up.
‘Gemellus and Statius talked to Barates two or three hours after midnight.’
‘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.