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?’