Lollius handed over the lantern.
‘Go ahead, I’m sure you’ll be fine. There haven’t been any earthquakes this week.’
‘Earthquakes?’ Cassius stopped at the top step.
‘Just tremors. I mean, enough to bring down this old place, but, no, nothing this week. Of course sometimes that means there’s another one coming but. . I’m sure you’ll be fine.’
Fairly sure that the quartermaster was lying, Cassius descended the nine steps into the crypt. It was dank and musty, and in one corner, water dripped on to the floor. He could almost stand up straight.
He walked along all four walls (measuring the chamber at eight paces by five), studying the floor as he went. The lamplight sparked off something. He reached down and picked up a small brass coin. He held it close to the lamp. The obverse, which would almost certainly show an imperial portrait, was worn beyond recognition. The reverse showed what looked like two crossed swords and the end of a word he couldn’t read. He glanced around the crypt one last time, then headed back up the steps. He found Lollius sitting on one of the blocks.
‘What do you have there?’ asked the quartermaster.
‘A coin, old thing. One of those you used to cover the treasure with?’
Lollius peered at the coin, then shrugged. ‘Probably.’
‘Where did you get them from?’
‘There was a load of them in one of the other rooms. Not worth a lot now. We used them all, I think — made sure the barrels were full up to the lid.’
‘They all looked like this one?’
‘No idea. We just threw them in.’
Cassius returned the lamp to Lollius and followed him out of the chamber.
‘There are no other ways in or out?’
Lollius shook his head. ‘None.’
They made their way down the steps and back along the corridor.
‘So you brought the barrels into the crypt, filled them up, covered them with the coins, then left them in there?’
‘Yes. Then on the night that Gregorius and the men left we brought them out to the cart in the courtyard.’
Cassius stopped short of the door so that the soldiers couldn’t listen in. He spoke quietly.
‘You said you walked with them for a while?’
‘I did. The last I saw of them they were heading for the valley of the tombs. Bad omen, I suppose.’
‘I’d like to follow their route, out past where this sentry last saw them.’
Lollius sighed. ‘Very well. We’ll go out first thing tomorrow, grain man. I’ll bring the sentry along too. You should go and see the prefect now. He has a drink with the tribunes most evenings and he won’t want you around for that. Too many awkward questions.’
Cassius followed Lollius out into the courtyard. They were met by the bizarre sight of Simo and Indavara helping Legionary Faustus with his weeding. All three of them stopped when they saw they were being watched.
Lollius frowned. ‘Why are you helping him?’
‘Yes,’ added Cassius. ‘Why are you helping him?’
‘It’s a big job, sir,’ said Simo flatly.
‘I like to keep busy,’ said Indavara, shrugging.
Lollius shook his head, then marched away across the courtyard.
VIII
‘Don’t let that wine get too hot,’ ordered Venator.
An aged servant hurried over to the brazier and moved the pan to one side. Cassius was standing in a corner with his hands behind his back, waiting for the prefect to finish some paperwork. He watched as the servant returned to the prefect’s bed, and continued to dress it with freshly laundered cotton sheets. The bed was huge, with ornate wooden posts at each corner; and the tent was filled with other hefty items of furniture. Cassius wondered how many carts were needed to transport the prefect’s belongings.
Venator dropped his pen, leaned back and yawned. He stood up and walked over to three couches that had been arranged in a U. Cassius followed him there and waited as the prefect kicked off his sandals and lay down, propping a fine red cushion under his head.
‘Sit, Corbulo, sit.’
Cassius sat in the middle of a couch opposite the prefect and tried to look relaxed. Nothing was said while the servant moved two tables within easy reach and brought them each a cup of wine. The prefect took a long, slow sip.
‘Ah, yes. My one real pleasure of the day. Well, anything to report?’
‘I’ve started going through the legionary records, sir, but nothing stands out so far. Quartermaster Lollius has just shown me the temple. In the morning he’s going to take me out on the Antioch road with the sentry who last saw Gregorius and the legionaries.’
‘And any thoughts about what may have happened?’
Cassius had already decided to be honest and frank with Venator. Though the slim possibility remained that he or one or more of his men were somehow involved in the theft, his material help might prove crucial; and his experience and position made him a valuable source of advice.
‘The way I see it, sir, there are three possibilities. One: someone who knew about the flag and the treasure arranged for the cart to be ambushed. The motive might be simple monetary gain or political advantage — if they knew of the banner’s significance.’
Venator nodded. ‘Go on.’
‘Two: some other, unexpected fate befell them. They ran into Palmyrans, locals, who knows? Three: someone within the group is responsible.’
Cassius knew how Quartermaster Lollius would have responded to the last of the three alternatives but Venator was rather more circumspect. The prefect sat up a little higher and ran his fingers through his soft, white hair.
‘I’ve little time for Abascantius but he’s no fool. I can’t believe he would assign such a task to a man he didn’t absolutely trust. As for the legionaries, well, I’ve as many rogues in my ranks as any prefect — you yourself can attest to that — but the ten we gave Gregorius are not among them. Even if one or two found out what was inside those barrels and concocted some scheme, I don’t see how they could have overpowered the others. These men are veterans. Heroes.’
‘How dangerous are the lands between here and Antioch, sir?’
‘Safer than they’ve been in several years, but there are Palmyran irregulars still scattered around, not to mention the odd gang of brigands between towns. It’s possible Gregorius ran into trouble, but it would have taken a strong, well-organised force to get the better of them, I can tell you that much. Which leaves your first possibility.’
Cassius nodded and drank some wine.
‘Someone with prior knowledge of the operation,’ added the prefect. ‘Marcellinus and the members of his council. Plus myself, Lollius and Tarquinius of course.’
Cassius decided he could conclude little from the cool manner in which the prefect had unabashedly named himself as a suspect.
‘And the Service itself of course, sir. I’m not sure if Abascantius has involved anyone other than Gregorius and myself. And then there’s the imperial post. I wanted to ask: how secure is it?’
‘Well, code is usually used for important communiques.’
‘How exactly does that work?’
‘You really are new to all this, aren’t you. Amandio!’ The slave shuffled over to them. ‘Bring me the largest box from the top shelf.’ Venator turned back to Cassius. ‘There is a standard cipher book with about two hundred different codes in it.’
Cassius had heard of these books but never seen one.
Venator continued: ‘On one of the first occasions I met Abascantius, we agreed verbally which cipher we would use but made no written record of it. From then on, anything either of us deemed to be sensitive would be written in that code. Common practice.’
As Amandio returned with the wooden box, Venator directed him to Cassius. The servant placed the box on the floor and opened the lid. Inside was a single leather-bound book. Cassius picked it up and opened it. On each page was a different code: some used numbers assigned to letters, others used a formula or symbols.