Startled, Varro dropped a slice of cheese and Salonius leapt to his feet, his hand going immediately for the hilt of the sword at his side before he realised who the lone figure in the doorway was.
Catilina stormed into the room, the door swinging closed behind her. She had an air of haughty anger, somehow heightened by the aroma of eastern oils that followed her, adding to the heady scent already pervading the room. Varro stood, wiping his hands to remove the crumbs.
The marshal’s daughter, pale and elegant with fire in her eyes pointed an accusing finger at the captain.
“You!”
“What?” Varro spread his hands out in a supplicant gesture.
“How could you not tell me?” she shrieked at him.
“Catilina, calm down for Gods’ sake. You’ll burst a blood vessel.”
The lady’s arm fell back down beside her and she placed her hands on her hips, taking up a defiant stance.
“You get a life-threatening injury and I have to hear it through the bureaucracy?” her voice notched up another octave and her eyes smouldered as she glared at the captain.
“You’ve heard?” Varro frowned.
“Your doctor gave the prefect the post-battle casualty reports. My father and I were there at the time. What does he mean ‘fatality’? You’d better explain this, Varro!”
The captain sighed deeply and gestured to the empty seat to one side.
“I will Catilina, but sit down and calm down.”
He turned to Salonius. “I hadn’t thought about the casualty reports. Obviously he hasn’t released full details then.”
“No sir,” the young soldier agreed, “but surely he’s not reported you as a fatality.”
Varro grumbled.
“It’ll be ‘expected fatality’. Those of us who were wounded and aren’t expected to pull through.”
Catilina, still standing with her hands on her hips, growled at him.
“He’s not reckoned with your tenacity, Varro. You’re always getting wounded, but it doesn’t take you long to heal” she grumbled at him and then stopped and frowned.
“It’s not the wound, is it? I hadn’t thought of that. What’s happened, then?”
Varro gestured at the seat again.
“Catilina, it’s not good. And I can’t have the details going round the fort like a brush fire, so I need you to keep this very much to yourself at the moment.”
“What?” she barked impatiently.
Varro sighed again and sat back heavily.
“I was stuck with a poisoned blade during the battle.”
Finally, Catilina took the seat she had been proffered and stared at the captain.
“Tell me, Varro.”
The captain tapped his fingers idly on his knee as he weighed her mood. There was no denying Catilina was an intelligent and resourceful woman, yet her fiery temper sometimes overwhelmed her sense of priority. She would need to be very objective about all this unless the news was to be leaked around the army.
“Catilina, I’m dying. There’s no cure and we can’t even locate the sword that was used. Scortius is giving me medication to keep me up and about and largely out of pain, but there’s nothing he can do in the long run.”
The haughty young woman pinched the bridge of her nose and turned to face the window.
“Is the man who did this still among the prisoners?”
“No.”
Varro caught her eyes and noticed them beginning to well up. She became aware of his gaze and blinked back the emotion, her face hardening.
“You killed him then?”
Varro shot a quick glance at Salonius whose expression remained unreadable.
“Not exactly.” He sighed. “I killed the barbarian who wielded the sword…”
“Yes?”
“But it’s the man who gave him the poisoned blade and marked me out that I want to find.”
“You mean this was deliberately targeted at you?” She blinked again, this time in surprise.
“It has to have been. The man came looking for me on the battlefield and he had an imperial blade; a very expensive one. Someone from within this fort has had me poisoned. I’m going to die, but I’m going to find out who did this first and why. And I’m going to make them suffer. But you see that’s why I can’t let you go out and tell people about this. If word gets out that I’m looking into this the culprit will go to ground and I’ll never find him.”
Catilina was still staring at him, a horrified look on her face and her mouth hanging open.
“Varro, you can’t just die?”
“I’ve no choice, Catilina,” Varro smiled weakly. “There’s nothing I can do about it.”
“There has to be!” she yelled at him.
“There has to be something we can do. Scortius has missed something.”
Varro shook his head sadly. “Scortius is a very thorough man, Catilina. You know that. And he’s done everything that can be done. I wish you hadn’t come with your father. I’d have spared you this if I could.”
“I’ll just step out, sir” Salonius said quietly, turning and making for the door.
“Stay here, Salonius.” Varro shook his head again. “We’re about done. I want you to escort Catilina back to her quarters. I’m fairly sure the marshal will be here soon to see me. And I need to organise a few things with him.” He turned to the young woman, who was no longer holding her emotion in check, a single tear snaking down her cheek. “And Catilina: this is going to be hard enough for your father and I without you here.”
A hard look impressed itself on her face. Varro sat back slightly. He’d known Catilina long enough to know that look.
“Catilina…”
“No.”
She sat back in the seat and folded her arms defiantly.
“Catilina…”
“You can say what you like Varro, but I’m staying. You need people you can trust around you right now. That’s me and father and you know that. We need to work out what we’re doing next, and preferably before father gets here. He’s going to want to do everything by the book and that’s clearly not going to work in this case. You’re going to need me to persuade him to our way of thinking. No one else can do that. You know that.”
“Alright,” the captain replied with a resigned nod. “Salonius, sit down and let’s work out what we need to do.”
The young man stepped away from the window toward the chair and, as he did, there was a heavy knock at the door. He turned to the captain and raised his eyebrows questioningly. Varro nodded at him.
“Best get it. The marshal wasted no time, eh?”
Salonius walked across to the door and opened it, the morning breeze cutting its way into the heady, spiced atmosphere of the front room. He stepped back, startled momentarily. In the street outside the door stood three of the fort provosts, the army’s police unit, their black and white striped crests flicking around in the wind and their black cloaks snapping back and forth.
“Show me to captain Varro.”
The provost sergeant stepped to the threshold while his two companions took up positions on guard to either side of the door. Blinking in surprise, Salonius stepped back, allowing the soldier into the room.
Varro and Catilina looked up in surprise as the provost sergeant stepped into the room and came smartly to attention.
“Sir.”
Varro raised an eyebrow.
“Yes, sergeant?”
“I would be obliged if you would accompany me outside the fort, sir.”
Varro’s eyes narrowed.
“What?”
The provost reached into the recesses of his cloak and whipped out a parcel. A leather wallet bound with a thong, the corner of a piece of paper poking out at the edge. He reached out and proffered the object to the captain. Varro frowned.
“What is this?”
Slowly, the sergeant turned the parcel over. In a neat script, someone had simply inscribed the front ‘Varro IV–II’. Varro reached out to grasp it.
“Provosts delivering letters now?”
The sergeant’s face remained straight and unreadable as he withdrew his hand, the parcel remaining out of Varro’s reach.