‘I take it that no trace was found of the woman?’ Ferox asked.
‘None,’ Crispinus replied. ‘The description was not exactly precise, and it does not sound as if you were able to coax any more from this soldier.’
‘He is young, was tired and on his way to the latrine. Then a half-naked woman barges into him. What do you expect him to remember?’
Cerialis snorted with laughter. The prefect was in his late twenties and a vigorous man, who kept a number of attractive young slaves to attend to his needs, as well as making frequent visits to the special staff at the brothel on the edge of the vicus outside the fort.
‘Do you think he is hiding anything, this soldier?’ Crispinus ignored the commander of the Batavians and his gaze was hard.
‘Cocceius has an excellent record.’ The prefect spoke loudly, quick to defend one of his men. ‘There is no reason to doubt him.’
Crispinus paid no attention and stared intently at Ferox.
‘I believe he has told us all he knows, and he stumbled on all this by pure chance.’
‘You are sure. Some women can get even good men to do what would otherwise be unthinkable.’
‘I am sure.’ Ferox glanced apologetically at the prefect. ‘He’s not the brightest. Certainly not to lie consistently over something like this.’
Cerialis chuckled. ‘He’s a good soldier. He doesn’t need to be bright.’
Ferox bit back a suggestion that intelligence was equally not essential for senior officers. Instead he raised the matter that the others had oddly left out. ‘Why was Narcissus here, my lord?’
The two officers exchanged a glance. ‘If you are asking why he was in the north of the province,’ Crispinus began, a hand smoothing his unnaturally white hair, ‘then the answer is that he was assisting with the census in the Anavionestan districts, as well as helping Vegetus collect revenue from tenants on some of the emperor’s estates, and also well as some matter of a legacy from the Brigantian royal family.’
The census had begun this summer, and in time would cover most of the Brigantes and their kin as well as those of the Selgovae and Demetae who were considered formal allies of Rome. As soon as he had heard the plan, Ferox had worried that it was needlessly provocative at a time when discontent was already bubbling away and the Roman garrison of the province was known to be weak. Plenty of rebellions throughout the empire had been sparked when census officials came around asking lots of questions that everyone knew were a prelude to fresh levies.
‘I know you consider the census unwise,’ Crispinus continued, making Ferox worry that he had betrayed his thoughts. He was tired, and everything was too much effort. ‘However,’ the tribune added, ‘if you mean why he was at Vindolanda, he came to attend a dinner last night held in honour of our emperor’s birthday.’
Ferox had lost all track of the date and was surprised to learn that yesterday must have been the sixth day after the Ides of September.
‘I was the host, and issued the invitation.’ Cerialis cut through his thoughts.
The tribune patted him on the arm. ‘At my prompting, dear Cerialis, and it was a perfectly reasonable thing to do. So it does mean that the prefect and I, along with his dear wife and their guests, were among the last people to see Narcissus before his untimely death.’
‘When did you last see him, my lords?’
‘The dinner finished sometime before the end of the second hour of the night,’ Cerialis said. ‘Several of the guests had an early start the next morning, so there was no taste for a late night. And most of the men had been hunting for the last few days and came back later than we had planned. We had ridden hard and while that gives one an appetite for food, none of us were in a mood for prolonged discourse. And then…’ He trailed off. ‘It was not the most successful of dinners.’
‘Scarcely your fault, my dear friend. I invited him.’ Crispinus stared at Ferox for a while. ‘Your lack of curiosity can become tiresome. I had never met Narcissus before, but he carried a letter from my uncle, the noble Neratius Marcellus, and from other connections of mine. No doubt they had their reasons for writing,’ he added sourly, ‘but it was not because the fellow was a congenial companion. When he spoke it was often barbed.’ The tribune glanced at the prefect.
‘Perhaps you are aware, centurion, that my wife’s brother has a somewhat…’ He paused searching for the right word. ‘Shall we say unfortunate past.’
‘I am aware, my lord.’ Ferox knew that Sulpicia Lepidina’s older brother had been a young tribune much like Crispinus when he was caught up in Saturninus’ plot against Domitian. That episode was a dark memory for Ferox, who had been tasked with investigating a number of senior officers accused of being involved. All had died, whether he had shown them innocent or not. Later, recalled by Nerva, the fool of a brother had been part of another conspiracy, this time by the provincial legate in Syria. That had meant a second disgrace. This, and the huge debts of her family, seemed the main reason why a senator’s daughter had married a mere equestrian, and one of provincial stock. Petilius Cerialis was rich and known to have the favour of Trajan.
‘Good,’ Crispinus said, ‘then we have no need to speak of such distasteful matters. Sadly, Narcissus displayed a vulgarity exceptional even for a freedman come into wealth, and thought it fitting to make jokes about this and other matters.
‘My wife’s brother is shortly to take up command of Legio VIIII Hispana,’ Cerialis explained. ‘That fellow hinted that he was on trial, with a last chance to prove his loyalty.’
That might or might not be true, Ferox thought, although it would seem a considerable risk unless the emperor was confident that the man would pass the test. Either way it was a surprising rehabilitation. Perhaps the brother had something of the ability and charm of his sister. From all he had heard, this seemed unlikely.
‘Worse than the jokes were the silences,’ Cerialis added and then went quiet. His normally cheerful face was grim.
‘Narcissus listened too closely to be polite,’ Crispinus explained. ‘It gave the impression that we were all on trial.’
‘Who else was there, my lords?’
The other guests were familiar. Aelius Brocchus commanded the cavalry ala at Coria, and he and his wife Claudia Severa were old friends, as was Rufinus, who led the cohort at Magna to the west. ‘Oppius Niger is new to these parts,’ the tribune went on, ‘having just arrived to take charge of the cohort at Aballava. While you will remember Attius Secundus from when we stopped at Trimontium two years ago.’ It took Ferox a moment to remember the tribune who had entertained them at that northern outpost. ‘In contrast he is on his way home at the end of his tour.’
None of the guests appeared the type to stab a freedman and shove his body into a latrine, however vulgar the fellow was. On the other hand they might just order someone else to do the business.
‘Do we know who was the last one to speak to Narcissus, my lords?’
‘I believe it was that dubious character, the tribune Crispinus,’ the young aristocrat said with an exaggerated raise of the eyebrow. ‘He hurried after me as I went through the courtyard and begged leave to ask a favour.’ Noting Ferox’s questioning look, he went on. ‘Nothing out of the ordinary. Did I happen to have an acquaintance who might introduce him to the king of the Coritani. I said that I would see what I could do.’