Free The Imperial Banner by Nick Brown

rear of the smaller one had half collapsed. A startled goat bolted from under its timbers and scampered round a corner.
    Cassius and Simo followed the animal into a courtyard. The damaged building was a stable. Next to it was a longer, larger structure. The stable was empty, but tethered to the doors were two saddled horses and a third yoked to a cart. Wary of the interlopers, they shuffled anxiously and strained against the ropes. The cart was half-full with dust-covered sacks.
    ‘Wheat, sir.’
    Cassius nodded. On the back of the cart was a metal plate, identifying it as the property of the Second Cohort, Fourth Legion. Cassius looked again at the empty stable, then at a line of washing hanging across one corner of the courtyard.
    ‘What is it, sir?’ asked Simo.
    They heard what sounded like someone kicking a door. Then a woman’s cry, suddenly muffled.
    Both men looked at the building ahead. There was only shadow beyond the low windows. Of the two doors, one was shut. The other, wide and made of thin timbers, was slightly ajar.
    At Cassius’s signal, they dismounted quietly. To their right were the remains of a long-abandoned plough. Cassius gestured for Simo to follow and led his horse over to it, looping the reins around a heavy iron bar. Tightening his sword belt, he nodded at one of his saddlebags.
    ‘Bring the spear-head,’ he said. ‘And be ready with your dagger.’
    Cassius again examined every window in turn, then started towards the open door. The whole courtyard was covered in wheat dust. Ahead of him was a jumble of footmarks. He was five yards away when the door flew open. A young, smiling legionary walked out.
    ‘Good morning!’ he said, stumbling as his scabbard slapped against his leg. ‘Good morning, sir,’ the legionary added, noting the colour of Cassius’s tunic. ‘How are you?’
    Cassius looked past him into the gloom. ‘Name?’
    The man could barely stand upright. Blinking into the sun, he pawed at his clammy face.
    ‘Give me your name, soldier.’
    Simo was now at Cassius’s side. The legionary slowly transferred his gaze to the Gaul, then back to Cassius.
    ‘Your name?’
    The legionary shook his head.
    Cassius indicated that Simo should watch the man, then walked past him.
    ‘Hey!’
    Before the legionary could move, Cassius bellowed at him, ‘You stay there!’
    Though he hadn’t been a field officer in Cyzicus, Cassius now had two years’ experience of dealing with junior ranks and he had perfected a deep, imperious tone for such occasions. He imagined his theatre teacher back in Ravenna would have been most proud.
    The legionary did as he was told.
    Cassius entered the building. Inside the cool, murky interior was a grain press: a large stone slab with a roller mounted on one side. To his left was a closed door. He saw movement in the shadows to his right. He gripped his sword handle but didn’t draw the blade.
    ‘Come out of there at once.’
    First to appear was a tiny old woman, little more than four feet tall. She was barefoot and clad in dusty robes. She received a hefty shove in the back from the second figure, an older legionary with a thick beard and very little hair. The old woman fell to her knees and began wailing in Aramaic.
    ‘Outside. Now,’ Cassius ordered.
    The legionary fixed him with a stare, then nonchalantly joined the other man.
    The old woman was still on her knees and still wailing. Cassius took another quick look around then walked outside, past the men. He could smell the wine on them. He went and stood next to Simo once more.
    ‘Will
you
give me your name?’
    The second soldier was at least able to formulate a reply. ‘Caesar. Julius.’
    The younger man giggled.
    ‘What are you doing here?’ Cassius asked.
    ‘Grain requisition.’
    The second legionary reached into his belt and offered Cassius a scrappy sheet of papyrus. Cassius came forward and took it. An order for the grain had indeed been scrawled by one Optio Rullus.
    ‘Well,