‘And now I must leave you to close the shop, and feed and water the soldiers’ mules. I have to see a friend of mine with a business proposition.’
‘We’re looking for a man.’
The man to whom the statement had been addressed shrugged, staring back at the two men before him with knowing eyes. They had been waiting outside his premises when the doors were opened for business, which, given he owned a brothel whose staff routinely worked late into the night, was at a rather more relaxed time than the city’s more mundane businesses who raised their shutters soon after dawn. Their entry to his place of business had been respectful enough, but he was nonetheless grateful that his customary bodyguard was close to hand, the cold-eyed Syrian staring at them with just enough menace to make clear that they were tolerated rather than welcomed.
‘One man. In this city? I wish you joy with your search.’
He turned away, but the older of the two men spoke to his back, his tone unchanged despite the obvious brusque dismissal.
‘We already worked that one out, after a day spent drinking watery wine all over this city and getting precisely nowhere. So my Dacian mate here had the one and only good idea I’ve ever heard out of him, which brings us to you. See, this man only has one skill – he knows the roads to the east of the frontier as well as he knows the lines on his palm. And you’re known as a trader who employs men with that skill.’
‘You are soldiers. Am I right?’
Sanga nodded.
‘It’s that obvious?’
‘To a man with my experience. I have been trading in the lands beyond Rome’s borders for most of my life, and it has been a long life. I have seen many soldiers in my time, and they have a certain appearance. You have the haircuts, you have the muscles …’
He looked them up and down, staring intently at both men’s faces.
‘And you have the eyes. So this man you seek, he is a scout?’
‘Was. He left the empire’s service all of a sudden like, and he’s not been seen since he left the fortress at some place called Zeugma, heading for the city.’
The trader smiled.
‘That would make sense. He was part of your lost cohort? The news was never official, but karawan masters who have trodden the northern route to the Sea of the Persians speak of coming upon the site of a massacre, of hundreds of Roman corpses picked clean with their remains strewn across the desert.’
Sanga nodded silently.
‘So, this man made his escape before the Parthians fell upon your comrades, reported the matter to the men who hold the bridge over the Euphrates and then …?’
‘Rode south.’
‘And you believe he came here?’
‘What do you think?’
The trader shrugged.
‘Why would I care?’
Sanga reached into his purse, pulling out a freshly minted gold aureus and dropping it into the trader’s open hand. The Arab looked at the coin, frowning at the head depicted in profile.
‘Which emperor is this?’
Sanga shrugged.
‘Who gives a fuck? I’ve got four more like that, if you help me to find the man in question. I believe his name was Abbas. Here’s his description.’
The trader thought for a moment.
‘It does seem logical for a man seeking to hide from vengeful people like you – and the gods know that your empire has a solid reputation for taking revenge on those who betray it – would seek shelter among the teeming masses of the city. But how do you propose that I might find this man?’
Sanga gave him a pitying look.
‘For five gold pieces I’d say you can do your own thinking. But I’d have thought that if anyone can persuade a man like that to come out of hiding, a trader who routinely uses the roads between here and the east to make his money would be the favourite.’
The Arab looked at him appraisingly, lifting the coin to the tavern’s lamplight.
‘Four more of these?’
The soldier nodded.
‘Five in gold for this man Abbas – that and a night with the pick of the girls upstairs for the two of us. And wine.’ He winked at the bodyguard. ‘Plenty of wine.’
It was dark when Scaurus’s clerk ushered an unexpected visitor into the legatus’s office, taking the man’s travel-stained cloak and helmet.
‘Prefect. I wasn’t expecting to see you again quite this quickly.’
Scaurus shook the Phrygian officer’s hand, calling for cold drinks and directing him to a chair, taking his own seat.
‘Am I to presume from your rather dusty appearance that you’ve ridden here from Hama?’
The younger man nodded, gratefully taking a long drink from the jug of cold water offered to him by the legatus’s German slave.
‘You presume correctly. I left yesterday at dawn and reached the city late in the day, to discover that your man Corvus has not been seen, at least not by the military authorities.’
Scaurus raised an eyebrow.
‘Which is most unlikely. The arrival of a senior officer would have been noted by the men on duty, at whichever gate he entered, for a start.’
The Phrygian nodded with an unhappy expression.
‘Which can only lead me to conclude that he didn’t actually ride for Hama in the first place.’
Scaurus looked back at him, his face expressionless.
‘Those were his orders. But who knows what lengths a man unjustly accused of murder will go to if he fears a show trial and prompt execution, solely to satisfy the spite of a man who should know better?’
The uncomfortable silence was broken by the prefect, who picked up his helmet and stood up.
‘Legatus, you realise that I have no choice but to take this news to the governor?’
Scaurus nodded equably.
‘It was good of you to bring it to me first. Of course, you must report back to your superior, who will in turn doubtless summon me to his palace for a discussion without wine. That is the way of things.’
‘Legatus …’
‘I know. The governor’s most likely reaction will be to assume that I’ve sent Tribune Corvus away to somewhere very far from Hama. Not only will he rail at me for this assumed act of defiance, but he will almost certainly declare that I am to be held responsible for Quinctius Flamininus’s murder in Corvus’s place. He will have me arrested and conduct a quickly convened trial, declare my guilt and oversee my execution which, if I am fortunate, will be conducted in a swift and merciful manner to avoid any stain on his character.’
The prefect shook his head unhappily.
‘And I can see no way to avoid bringing this fate about. I cannot fail to report my findings to the Governor, and when I do …’
‘The summons will be immediate.’
The prefect leaned forward, lowering his voice.
‘I cannot fail to report to the governor. But I can fail to report tonight.’
Scaurus inclined his head.
‘That would be generous of you, Prefect.’
‘What will you do?’
The legatus smiled wanly.
‘Leave the city, obviously. What other choice do I have?’
Timon drove the mules that he had collected from his business partner earlier in the day up the road from Antioch to the barracks’ gates, where a weary-looking sentry took one look and hooked a thumb at the nervous salesman.
‘Up the road to the corner of the wall and turn right. You’ll find the stables easy enough, just head for the sound of your mates and all their mules. Not to mention the fucking smell.’
Making his way round the perimeter of the legion’s base, it didn’t take him long to realise that he wasn’t the only vendor on whom the soldiers had called the previous day. Recognising the faces of several of his competitors from across the city, he exchanged mutually wary greetings with the man he considered to be his closest rival.
‘Three soldiers, one with a cross carved into his cheek and going by the blasphemous name of “Jesus”?’