The Imperial Banner by Nick Brown Read Free Book Online Page A

dolt simply because his father wanted to keep him out of trouble, I was less than enthusiastic. In fact, I was inclined to send you to the nearest available legion as a rank and filer. But it seems that you are not entirely unintelligent, and that you have a knack of getting to the bottom of things. Better still, your face is not known in these parts. I can make good use of you.’
    ‘I don’t know what you have in mind, sir, but—’
    ‘We’ll get to that.’
    Abascantius hesitated a moment, then jabbed the poker towards Cassius. ‘It sounded like you were about to protest then, Corbulo. I advise against it. You have absented yourself from the Service for over a year and a half. Chief Pulcher knows I’ve found you but it’s up to me how I present your story to him. One explanation might be an administrative foul-up: lost orders, a miscommunication perhaps. You weren’t with us but you were doing your duty nonetheless. Happens all the time. Perfectly feasible. After all – there was a war on.’
    Abascantius tilted his head from one side to the other.
    ‘Another explanation might be plain, simple, good old-fashioned desertion. The wilful neglect of a soldier’s sworn duties. Also happens all the time.’
    Abascantius replaced the poker by the fire, returned to the table and stood over Cassius.
    ‘So which is it to be?’
    ‘The former sounds preferable, sir.’
    ‘Infinitely, I should say.’
    Abascantius moved closer.
    ‘Do you know how I have spent the last two years, Corbulo? Riding. The Palmyrans pushed us back a thousand miles, then we pushed
them
back. The lines could change in days, hours. And all the while, someone had to keep the governors and the generals and the Emperor advised of what was happening. And then do their bidding; even though they disagreed more than they agreed. And every single day there was someone to see, something to do, somewhere to go. Riding, riding, riding. I’m getting old. My stomach gets fatter and my arse just gets bonier – so I don’t like to ride.’
    He pointed at Cassius. ‘You owe the Service, Corbulo. And you owe me. You should be grateful that I am offering you a chance to redeem yourself.’
    Cassius slid off the bench and stood. Even during his most relaxed, peaceful periods in Cyzicus, he had always known this moment would come. He pressed his tunic down and nodded formally to Abascantius.
    ‘What is it you require of me, sir?’
    ‘We’ll get to that. First we shall eat.’

II
    Midnight was long past when Cassius finished his meal. It was simple but tasty fare: cold lamb with bread and cheese, then some dried pears and pistachio nuts – one of his few pleasant associations with Syria. Abascantius had wolfed down his food, then disappeared downstairs. The young girl had brought up wood for the fire, but Cassius had felt too morose even to strike up a conversation. Simo came later, carrying their saddlebags. The Gaul announced that the horses were settled for the night, then set about preparing the rooms reserved for them – the two chambers on the other side of the stairs.
    Cassius pushed his plate away just as Abascantius returned. The agent was clutching a leather satchel and a long object wrapped in cloth. He thumped both down on to the table as he reclaimed his seat opposite Cassius.
    ‘To the matter at hand then. You must consider what I will tell you most secret. On occasion you may have to disclose parts of it – then you must use your own judgement. Understood?’
    ‘Yes, sir.’
    ‘In Antioch, on the last day of this month, I am to meet with Marshal Marcellinus and the four members of the city’s council. Like most of our esteemed military men, Marcellinus despises the Service and – for various reasons – me in particular. He’s been given complete autonomy over the eastern provinces and will tolerate my involvement only because the Emperor charged me with one important task.’
    Cassius found it hard to imagine Aurelian entrusting any