“Yes.” Grattius replied.
“No.” Varro countered. “We want clear heads for this but thank you.” He glared at Grattius who looked away glancing around the area. Turning back to the man with the wart, Varro said. “Just tell me what happened last night, what time you opened up, who came in, who were they with, did you recognise anyone and what was it that started the trouble?” He took out a wax tablet and a stylus to take down any pertinent details.
Pubess thought for a second scratching at his wart, “Usual time, legionaries from the third cohort, second and third centuries.” He looked up at the ceiling, “don’t know their names except for an optio like you.” He said looking at Grattius.
“I wasn’t here last night.” He said.
“No it wasn’t you – like you, same uniform I mean, an optio. He was sat over there at that table.” He pointed and then climbed off the stool and came round to the front of the plank. “Here.” He touched a table. “He was sat here and the lad that was injured,” he paused, “sorry killed, was sat here.” He pointed to a table nearby.
“The optio was sat at that table when Legionary Frontus was stabbed?” Varro asked. Pubess and his wart resumed their perch behind the plank.
“Yes I’m sure.” He looked back into the room. “Certain actually because this optio dragged one of his lads out of the melee, that was when I first saw the blood. All cleared up now of course, I like to keep a clean bar you know.”
He poured himself a jar of wine from an amphora and took a drink.
“Blood?” Varro asked. “Was this when the lad was stabbed or could it have come from someone else?”
Pubess thought for a moment, “Couldn’t tell you but if you find that optio, he’ll tell you I’m sure. He dragged his lad out who was kicking and screaming, covered in blood he was, all down his white tunic, that’s how I saw it so easily even in this place. The lights terrible, I’ve asked Centurion Pilo if he can do something about it but he says it’s my responsibility as I’m the proprietor or something like.” He took another drink. “Anyway, then all hades kicked off and the others were knocking lumps out of each other, even Attia got out of the way and came behind here.” He indicated behind the plank.
“Attia. Who’s that?” Grattius asked eager to get involved. Varro gave him a look.
“She’s me wife, you saw her when you came in.” He turned and shouted and began scratching at his groin. “Attia come in here will you?”
Varro and Grattius exchanged looks and the optio held out his hand indicating the difference in height between Pubess and his wife, shaking his head.
“Yes Servius what can I do for you and these fine young men?” She appeared smiling and stood by her husband’s side, chest thrust forward.
“Centurion Varro,” Varro said introducing them, “and Optio Grattius.” He waved a hand at Grattius. “We’re here looking into the circumstances of the incident last night when one of our legionaries was stabbed. Is there anything you can tell us?”
She blushed again, “I think you would be better off talking to Optio Anicius.”
“And he’s the optio that dragged the lad out is he?” Grattius asked, Varro looked at him but he was focused on Attia, primarily her chest. Varro made some notes.
“Yes but don’t ask me what the other one’s name is, I couldn’t tell you, young lads hold no interest for me.” She said reddening again. Varro looked at Pubess.
“We offer a variety of services sirs.” He said looking at his wife with a cheery grin, Varro didn’t ask.
“Well thank you for your time this morning.” Varro said, “If we need anything else, we’ll be back to speak with you.” They stood up.
“We’ll look forward to it.” Attia said smiling.
“Come on Optio.” Varro said, the two men headed towards the door.
“Fuck me did you hear that?” Grattius asked, “The dwarf’s wife is up for a shag. I didn’t know the Boar provided those sorts of services did you?”
“I haven’t been in there before and if I can help it I won’t be going in there again. These people are all the same Grattius, they’d rut a dead pig if they could.” Varro said placing his helmet on his head.
“Well I ain’t too fussy sir, I’ll be back here later.” He put his own helmet on, “Mind you, half the legion has probably been through it never mind Pube or whatever his name is. Did you see the size of that fucking wart? What’s she doing with that short arsed bastard anyway? Can you imagine him giving her one?” Grattius laughed as the two men walked into the fresh air outside. “I told you that was what he was up to when we first got here.”
Varro ignored him and didn’t reply but led Grattius towards the direction of the cohort’s barracks. Entering the blocks, Grattius removed his helmet. “Put it back on,” Varro ordered, “we’re not here making a social call.” Grattius did as he was instructed. They walked into a large room filled with bunk beds along each side of the wall. Legionaries were sat around polishing their equipment. Varro approached one soldier.
“Centurion Varro,” he announced, “I’m looking for Optio Anicius.” There was no reply.
“On your fucking feet now legionary.” Varro shouted, even Grattius was startled and jumped, everyone else in the room stopped what they were doing. The soldier in question stood up sharply and came to attention dropping his armour. He stared straight ahead not looking at Varro.
The centurion leaned into his face. “What’s your name soldier?”
“Legionary Abudius sir.” The man replied, Varro saw that he had bruising under his right eye.
“Where’s your Optio?” Varro asked.
“Pilum training sir.” He replied.
“That wasn’t too difficult was it?” Varro said.
“Were any of you cunnies in the Boar last night when a soldier was stabbed to death? Grattius asked. Blank faces stared back at him. “I’ll take that as a no shall I?” He walked into the centre of the room. “Mark my words if we have to come back here after finding out that any of you were present, the Centurion here won’t be happy and neither will I.” Various faces reddened and averted their eyes from the optio’s glare. The two officers turned and walked towards the exit, Varro could feel eyes on his back.
“Ignorant fuckers, I’ll be having words with Anicius about his men’s attitude.” Grattius said as they left the building.
“Let’s just concentrate on the task in hand for now shall we eh?” Varro said. “Let’s go and have a look at this dead trooper before we speak with Anicius.”
In the cool of the mortuary, laid out on a marble slab, was a body covered in a shroud, the smell was like a butchers shop, only worse. The Greek looking attendant removed the sheet. “He was dead when he arrived, last night sir,” he said, “all we could do was clean him up a bit.” The man was tall and thin with a large hooked nose; he stood to one side holding the sheet that was marked with blood. On the slab was the body of a young man, his stomach and chest had multiple dark wounds where blood had coagulated, Varro counted, nine wounds in all.
“He was hit hard,” the attendant said reaching out and taking hold of the corpse’s shoulder and hip. He rolled the body onto its side, it stayed firm with rigour as if frozen. Varro and Grattius could see that one wound had perforated the skin of the dead man’s back near the spine.
“We’ve got his records here if you want to see them sir?” The thin man asked placing the body down and picking up some rolled up scrolls from a bench. He shuffled the paper, “Legionary Frontus, aged twenty years, joined the legion,” he squinted at the details, “six months ago from recruit training in Germania.”
“Was anything brought in with him?” Varro asked.
“Just his clothes,” he turned and went to a bench and picked up a blood stained tunic and a pair of sandals. “That’s all he had with him, oh and his belt and loin cloth, they are covered in blood as well, you can see them if you like but I don’t think they will tell you anything.” He held the tunic up but it didn’t fall freely as dark blood stains covered the majority of the material sticking it together, he pulled the base and crisp dried blood cracked as it was pulled free. Only the shoulder areas were clear of staining. “If you ask me he didn’t stand a chance, such a waste of a young life.”