have an authorisation here for you, signed by Chief Pulcher. And there’s this.’
Abascantius reached over to the covered item and removed the cloth. What he held up on the table could easily have been mistaken for a weapon: it was a three-foot length of solid silver topped by a spear-head, with two circles beneath hung with golden thread. Just below the circles was a square iron badge, engraved with the emblem of the Governor of Syria.
‘These are carried by every senior agent in the Service. It identifies you as a member of the governor’s staff and entitles the bearer to certain privileges. While in possession of it, you hold a rank equivalent to a centurion; you may use way-stations and the imperial post; and you can requisition troops when you need them. There are fewer than a hundred of this particular type in existence. This belongs to Gregorius. He left it with me.’
Cassius took the spear-head and laid it down on the table. ‘I hope I get a chance to return it to him.’
‘Look after it, and don’t be afraid to use it. I suggest that you avoid mentioning me if at all possible; pretend you’ve been dispatched straight from Rome by Chief Pulcher.’
‘Marshal Marcellinus knows of the theft?’
‘Not yet, though I may have to inform him at some point.’
Cassius could understand his reluctance. The Emperor’s deputy would surely be delighted to hear of a ready-made reason to discredit Abascantius. Emperors had been using the Service to spy on the army for years, the main reason why most military men regarded its agents with such contempt. Though the strength of the bond between Aurelian and Marcellinus was well known, the fact that the Emperor had used Abascantius for this assignment reinforced a historical truth: the Service had a far better record of loyalty to Roman emperors than the army did.
Abascantius sighed loudly. ‘I fancy the ultimate solution to this may lie in Antioch, so I shall return there tomorrow. Aside from myself, Gregorius and Prefect Venator – who supplied the legionaries – the only men who knew about the cart were Marcellinus himself and the four members of the council. He swore them all to secrecy – on pain of death if I know him – but I’ve little doubt one of them is involved somehow.’
‘In a theft of imperial property?’
‘Stranger things have happened. The council may resent my interest in their personal affairs but at times like this it becomes extremely useful.’
‘And what of this Gregorius? Isn’t it possible that he—’
Abascantius shook his head vigorously. ‘Not a chance. His loyalty is not in question. Besides, he’s worked for me long enough to know the consequences of betrayal.’
‘How much were the contents of that cart worth?’
‘Not including the flag – over ten thousand aurei.’
Cassius blew out his cheeks. It was an astronomical sum – enough to buy an army or a fleet of ships. ‘Sufficient to risk the consequences of betrayal then.’
‘You don’t know Gregorius. I do. He would have taken every precaution necessary. He has never let me down.’
‘What about the legionaries he used, couldn’t they have decided to do away with him and take the treasure for themselves?’
‘I gave strict instructions. They were to be strangers from different cohorts: none of the men knew each other. They were all to be Italians, decorated veterans only, each personally recommended by their centurions. No, the answer doesn’t lie there.’
‘What about locals? Brigands? There must still be Palmyran soldiers scattered all across Syria.’
‘They were to travel only at night, they were to—’ Abascantius abruptly halted his explanation. ‘Do you think I didn’t consider all this?’ he yelled, slamming his hand on to the table. ‘Do you think I was born yesterday?’ He stared at Cassius, bloodshot eyes wide.
‘Of course not, sir. My apologies.’
Abascantius took a few breaths. The impact of his hand had sent the satchel
Abascantius reached over to the covered item and removed the cloth. What he held up on the table could easily have been mistaken for a weapon: it was a three-foot length of solid silver topped by a spear-head, with two circles beneath hung with golden thread. Just below the circles was a square iron badge, engraved with the emblem of the Governor of Syria.
‘These are carried by every senior agent in the Service. It identifies you as a member of the governor’s staff and entitles the bearer to certain privileges. While in possession of it, you hold a rank equivalent to a centurion; you may use way-stations and the imperial post; and you can requisition troops when you need them. There are fewer than a hundred of this particular type in existence. This belongs to Gregorius. He left it with me.’
Cassius took the spear-head and laid it down on the table. ‘I hope I get a chance to return it to him.’
‘Look after it, and don’t be afraid to use it. I suggest that you avoid mentioning me if at all possible; pretend you’ve been dispatched straight from Rome by Chief Pulcher.’
‘Marshal Marcellinus knows of the theft?’
‘Not yet, though I may have to inform him at some point.’
Cassius could understand his reluctance. The Emperor’s deputy would surely be delighted to hear of a ready-made reason to discredit Abascantius. Emperors had been using the Service to spy on the army for years, the main reason why most military men regarded its agents with such contempt. Though the strength of the bond between Aurelian and Marcellinus was well known, the fact that the Emperor had used Abascantius for this assignment reinforced a historical truth: the Service had a far better record of loyalty to Roman emperors than the army did.
Abascantius sighed loudly. ‘I fancy the ultimate solution to this may lie in Antioch, so I shall return there tomorrow. Aside from myself, Gregorius and Prefect Venator – who supplied the legionaries – the only men who knew about the cart were Marcellinus himself and the four members of the council. He swore them all to secrecy – on pain of death if I know him – but I’ve little doubt one of them is involved somehow.’
‘In a theft of imperial property?’
‘Stranger things have happened. The council may resent my interest in their personal affairs but at times like this it becomes extremely useful.’
‘And what of this Gregorius? Isn’t it possible that he—’
Abascantius shook his head vigorously. ‘Not a chance. His loyalty is not in question. Besides, he’s worked for me long enough to know the consequences of betrayal.’
‘How much were the contents of that cart worth?’
‘Not including the flag – over ten thousand aurei.’
Cassius blew out his cheeks. It was an astronomical sum – enough to buy an army or a fleet of ships. ‘Sufficient to risk the consequences of betrayal then.’
‘You don’t know Gregorius. I do. He would have taken every precaution necessary. He has never let me down.’
‘What about the legionaries he used, couldn’t they have decided to do away with him and take the treasure for themselves?’
‘I gave strict instructions. They were to be strangers from different cohorts: none of the men knew each other. They were all to be Italians, decorated veterans only, each personally recommended by their centurions. No, the answer doesn’t lie there.’
‘What about locals? Brigands? There must still be Palmyran soldiers scattered all across Syria.’
‘They were to travel only at night, they were to—’ Abascantius abruptly halted his explanation. ‘Do you think I didn’t consider all this?’ he yelled, slamming his hand on to the table. ‘Do you think I was born yesterday?’ He stared at Cassius, bloodshot eyes wide.
‘Of course not, sir. My apologies.’
Abascantius took a few breaths. The impact of his hand had sent the satchel
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