Free The Siege by Nick Brown

to be an ally of some worth.’
    ‘Let’s hope this Strabo is equally useful. Where’s the money?’
    ‘Hidden with your belongings, sir. Shall I bring it all?’
    ‘No. Two hundred denarii should be enough. The rest you can put in there.’
    Cassius pointed to the bedroom that took up the back half of the officers’ quarters. It was furnished with two beds and a small chest. Though gloomy and poorly ventilated by a single high window, it had one other notable advantage – a thick wooden door equipped with a lock. Simo had already found keys for the door and chest inside the desk. Despite thick layers of rust, both still worked.
    The Gaul hurried over to where he had stacked their saddlebags and gear. Idly looking at the desk, Cassius noticed a pile of papers buried under some dirty wooden plates. Pushing the plates away, he found a collection of faded papyrus sheets, bound together along one side. The pages appeared to be in no particular order. Most of the untidy writing referred to supplies.
    Simo handed over a small leather satchel.
    ‘Two hundred as you said, sir.’
    Cassius’ helmet was still lying on the desk, complete with hole and projectile. He lifted it up and hid the money inside.
    ‘Simo, listen. You do appreciate that we must continue to make no mention at all of my true status? These men must believe me to be a centurion, not just an officer. Common soldiers generally have an extremely low opinion of the Service. Understood?’
    ‘Of course, sir.’
    Cassius wandered over to the window. Emerging from the crowd alongside Barates was a character who seemed perfectly to fulfil the veteran’s brief description.
    The legionary looked about forty. He was tall, a little overweight and unusually broad-shouldered. His hair was thick, black and unfashionably long. As he neared the officers’ quarters, Cassius could also make out a large, beak-like nose that had been broken more than once. His beard, however, was well trimmed, as was the current trend, though most of the legionaries at Alauran seemed not to know it. (Cassius was waiting for the wispy hair on his own chin to develop, but progress was frustratingly slow.) Strabo was attired correctly, wearing tunic, belt and dagger, though his sword was missing.
    Barates entered first, then held the door open for Strabo. Cassius returned a courteous nod and was struck by the darkness of his eyes; they seemed almost black. Strabo looked him over and Cassius registered a flicker of amused contempt that soon became a thin smile.
    ‘Centurion.’
    ‘Strabo, isn’t it?’
    The guard officer took a couple of steps inside, then looked down at the saddlebags.
    ‘Barates,’ said Cassius, ‘might I ask you to check if there are any more men still asleep. I want them all up.’
    ‘I’ll do my best,’ Barates replied, sighing as he shut the door.
    Strabo looked through the bedroom doorway at Simo. Realising he was just a servant, he seemed to relax. He sat down on the bench and casually stretched out his legs.
    Cassius leaned against the desk again.
    ‘Forgive my curiosity,’ said Strabo, cocking his head to one side. ‘but you do not appear to have lived twenty years of life, let alone twenty of service. How is it that one so young carries the stripe?’
    Cassius did his best to look annoyed but answered calmly.
    ‘It’s common practice to recruit younger officers now. To replace those lost in the East and elsewhere.’
    ‘Really? I see you have an attendant with you. And I hear from your voice that you do not hail from the lower classes. Perhaps that too was a factor in your swift promotion.’
    ‘Perhaps,’ said Cassius with a wry smile, determined not to take the bait, ‘but my personal circumstances are not important.’
    Strabo frowned theatrically.
    ‘Aren’t they? Hardly palace duty is it?’ he said, waving a hand towards the square.
    Cassius couldn’t find an answer to that, and he was beginning to doubt this man would help him.
    Strabo