The guard look unconvinced and returned to attention as the door to the marshal’s office closed.
Varro walked straight into the back of Catilina, who had stopped immediately inside the door, and Salonius consequently bumped into him too. The pair of them peered around the lady’s lustrous black curls and stared for a moment before they remembered where they were and came to attention. Varro had been expecting Sabian to be poring over maps, or perhaps writing furiously. What he hadn’t been prepared for was the Marshal being draped over his seat, with a cup in his hand and an almost empty bottle on the table. He recognised the smell of cheap northern spirits from the doorway.
“Father?” Catilina’s voice hovered somewhere between prim disgust, worry and anger.
Sabian hauled himself upright with some stiffness of muscles. Varro heaved a sigh of relief; the marshal had been drinking, but was still compos mentis at least.
“Ah, Catilina. I thought of sending for you, but I was sure you’d come once Scortius had finished with you. I thought you’d come alone though. I wasn’t planning to see these three until the morning.”
Salonius and Varro shared an unspoken look behind the lady as Varro held up three fingers.
“Father, can we put aside your disappointment in me and your anger, and assume that you’re not going to punish me in the end anyway. It’ll save a lot of time, and this is too important to mess around with family squabbles.”
Sabian’s face hardened.
“Catilina,” he growled, “you are not ingratiating yourself with me.”
His daughter merely folded her arms defiantly, thought with some difficulty, given the sling, and gave him a patronising look.
“Catilina,” the marshal’s voice raised slightly and dangerously, “don’t play games with me, girl. I’m not drunk but I am angry.”
The young lady sighed and allowed her arm to drop back down to her side.
“Very well, father. You can shout at me, withdraw my privileges, restrict my movement or whatever the hell it is you want to do to punish me, but be angry later; there just isn’t time now!”
Something about her words sank in and Sabian seemed to deflate slightly. His eyes wandered behind her and rested for a moment on her two companions.
“I assumed Petrus would be with you?”
Varro stepped out beside Catilina.
“That’s the problem, sir.”
“What? You can’t have lost him?”
Varro sighed.
“Petrus has gone to the Gods. About fifteen minutes ago” he said sadly.
“Nearer twenty, I think,” corrected Salonius.
Sabian pushed himself upright, slapping the cup down on the desk and sweeping it aside.
“What happened?”
The three visitors stepped forward and relaxed their posture slightly.
“Assassination,” Varro announced bluntly. “Someone killed Petrus and tried the same with Salonius and me; thinks he got Salonius, too.”
Sabian blinked. “Assassins? In Vengen? That’s outrageous!”
“But true. I saw him in the garden outside the guest wing. He was kitted out like a Pelasian, but your daughter assures me that there’s no way he could actually have been a Pelasian?”
The marshal nodded in a distracted fashion.
“Sir?” Varro prompted.
“Hmm?” Sabian turned and focused on the captain again. “What? Oh, yes. She’s right. You’ll not find a Pelasian here unless he’s staying in the guest wing and wearing official regalia. Prince Ashar is a good friend of both mine and the Emperor’s.”
“Then someone in Vengen is dressed like a Pelasian and using one of their hand bows; someone in the fortress.”
The marshal frowned.
“Assuming this is Cristus playing his hand, who could he have his hooks into here?”
Varro shrugged.
“Sadly, just about anyone. I…”
Suddenly the captain groaned as his eyes rolled up into his head and he slumped. Salonius, quick as a flash, grabbed Varro around the torso as he fell, lowering him gently to the floor.”
The young man looked up to see Catilina staring in horror and Sabian rushing around the side of his desk towards them.
“It’s alright,” Salonius reassured them, “he’s breathing. It’s just a reaction. Scortius warned me about this. About fifteen minutes ago he had some very strong medication. He’s supposed to be resting as much as possible anyway, but he’s overdone it. Two wounds, running around and, of course, his blood pressure’s pretty high even normally.”
Catilina’s face continued to verge on panic as she knelt beside the unconscious captain. Sabian, approaching, stood above her and looked down on her and the captain with a curious look on his face. The marshal crouched and grasped Varro by a shoulder. With a nod to Salonius, the two men hauled Varro up and dragged him across to Sabian’s couch, followed closely by the worried Catilina. They gently lay the captain on the soft velvet and tucked a cushion behind his head.
“He’s lucky to have you looking after him,” the marshal noted, giving Salonius an appraising glance.
“Just my duty, sir.” Replied the young man modestly.
Catilina crouched by the divan and gently mopped Varro’s brow with a soft cloth. Sabian gave her a quick concerned look, grasped Salonius’ shoulder and guided him away across the room. When they were a considerable distance away from Varro and Catilina, he let go and rubbed his hands together thoughtfully.
“I don’t think this is a duty thing, lad. I’m very much under the impression that the only people Varro can trust are in this room right now. We have a problem and we need to work out what we’re going to do about it.”
Salonius frowned.
“With respect, sir, we need to find this assassin.”
“Agreed,” Sabian nodded. “The question is: how to go about it?”
Salonius glanced briefly towards the door.
“We could perform a search, sir? The assassin was in Pelasian blacks and carrying a hand bow. I would assume that anyone leaving the military compound will be logged, so there are three possibilities as I see it.”
Sabian raised a questioning eyebrow.
“Well, sir,” Salonius answered quickly, “either the assassin fled the compound, in which case he’ll have been logged by the guards at the gate, or he’s still got the equipment stashed somewhere, in which case we can find it, or…”
“Or what?”
“Well, if it was me, sir, I’d have thrown the clothes and weapon over the walls. Removes any link with the guilty party.”
“Damn it, your right.” Sabian ground his teeth. “I’m going to have my commander organise a search of the compound and of the ditches below the walls, but if he’s thrown them away we’re going to have serious trouble pinning anyone down.”
“Perhaps, sir, but perhaps not. It all depends on what the search turns up.”
Sabian glanced back across the room to where his daughter continued her ministrations.
“What’s best for Varro right now?”
“If it’s alright with you, sir, I think we should leave him where he is for now.” Salonius answered. “Perhaps we should send for Scortius?”
Sabian nodded.
“I’ll have him and Mercurias both attend.” He glanced over at his daughter again. “Catilina? Salonius and I have business to attend to. I’m sending the doctors to have a look at Varro, but I think you should stay with him.”
Catilina gave him a weak smile.
“Out of trouble, you mean father?”
It was mid morning when Salonius and the marshal made their careful way along the deep grass ditch below the walls of Vengen. They had spent the morning organising the search, watching the darkness slowly give way to the dawn somewhere in the process. The compound had been sealed with the exception of the particular unit of Sabian’s guard that had been given the task of searching below the walls. The names of everyone who had left the compound between the time of the attack and the sealing of the gate had been taken, and each one of those individuals had been tracked down in the civilian settlement and brought back to the military compound. They numbered eight soldiers from the army, three from the First, two from the Fourth, one from the Fifth and two from the Eleventh, four members of Sabian’s guard, six of the Vengen garrison, and nine of the ancillary staff. Tracking them down in the crowded town must have been a monumental task, but the marshal’s guards had carried it out efficiently and without complaint.