‘But?’
‘I have only met him once, but Collega seems too… honourable.’
‘Your friend Mucianus then?’
The Roman grinned. ‘Much as I would like it to be, Mucianus has more to lose than to gain from Corbulo’s death. He is the governor’s man, linked to him through years of service and patronage.’
A commotion behind them heralded the arrival of the governor amidst a cloud of bodyguards. Corbulo was accompanied by his legionary commanders and Valerius found himself once more the target of Mucianus’s unforgiving stare. The guards opened warily to allow Corbulo forward and Serpentius stepped back with a bow to give him room to join Valerius by the body.
‘So my assassin is dead?’
‘It appears so.’ Valerius kept his voice neutral. ‘He had the opportunity to place the snake in your quarters and he ran when the crime was discovered. Unfortunately, we had no opportunity to question him. His fellow slaves say they know nothing of his movements outside the palace, but he had… arrangements… which allowed him to come and go more or less as he pleased.’ He mentioned the slave’s sideline and Corbulo grunted in a way that said that someone would pay for the lapse. ‘He undoubtedly had the opportunity to meet contacts in the city or among the men of the four Syrian legions who spend their furloughs here.’ He explained Serpentius’s theory about the way the man had died. ‘It seems certain that he met his killer in the gardens last night, but we had more than two hundred men searching the palace grounds, including a century from the Tenth Fretensis.’
‘Surely you don’t believe one of them killed him?’ Corbulo rapped. ‘The men of my personal guard all have years of service under my command, and the Tenth is the most loyal of all my legions.’
Valerius could have pointed out that the more trusted a man became, the more dangerous he could be. In any case, loyalty could be bought and sold like any other commodity. All that mattered was the price. He stood his ground. ‘There is no guarantee that he was murdered before the hunt began. The only way to be certain is to question the searchers individually and cross-check their movements against each other.’
‘Which would take days.’
‘And have little hope of success,’ Valerius admitted. He showed the governor the scrap of green cloth. ‘This was found in the dead man’s hand.’
Corbulo frowned and rubbed the rough fabric between his fingers. ‘Someone from an auxiliary cavalry unit?’
‘It is possible,’ Valerius told him. ‘We can’t be sure. There is one thing…’
‘Yes?’
‘Judging by the type of wound, the murderer’s uniform may have been spotted with Turpio’s blood.’
The governor shook his head. ‘We do not have time to search every tent.’
‘No, but if you order every second man to check his tent-mate’s clothing and vice versa it’s possible we will find our killer in less than an hour.’
Corbulo studied Valerius with increased respect. ‘Then do it.’
Valerius issued the order and Corbulo went back to the palace, only to return twenty minutes later when the reports began to come in as the units concluded their searches.
‘Nothing?’
‘No, general. I…’
‘Sir! You should see this.’ The centurion of the guard addressed his words to Corbulo. He carried something in his right hand and refused to meet Valerius’s eyes.
‘What is it?’
The man held up a pair of the nailed sandals every legionary wore. Corbulo’s eyes hardened as he recognized the familiar stains on the leather strapping.
‘Blood?’ he demanded. ‘Where were they found?’
‘In the slave quarters.’
‘And who do they belong to?’
‘Him.’
Every eye followed the pointing finger.
To Serpentius.
The guards took time to react. A long moment of dangerous silence that was broken by Serpentius’s bitter laugh. Corbulo flinched as if he’d been struck and his bodyguard moved forward with a low growl, their swords ready to cut down the murderer at the general’s command.
The Spaniard’s hand hovered over his sword hilt and Valerius knew that the moment he touched it he was a dead man. ‘Wait.’
Corbulo’s head snapped round and the look in his eyes told Valerius that Serpentius’s wasn’t the only life on the line. ‘You dare to interfere with justice? You who brought this assassin to my home?’
Valerius kept his voice calm. ‘Justice is only justice if you have the killer, general.’
‘You say he is innocent?’
‘I say that a pair of bloody sandals isn’t enough to condemn a man.’
‘They were less than an hour ago, when the man in question was not your servant. Did you not tell me the wound was made by a spatha in expert hands? Who is more expert than a former gladiator? Take him.’
Serpentius was standing in the centre of the four armed legionaries of the guard and Valerius saw him tense. Another second and there would be blood on the ground and men would be screaming.
‘Ask him if the sandals are his,’ he said quietly.
Corbulo raised his hand and Serpentius relaxed as the guard backed away. ‘Well?’
The Spaniard stared at him with eyes so full of menace that for a moment even Valerius wondered if he had misplaced his trust.
‘No.’
‘You can prove this?’
Serpentius shrugged. ‘Even a fool can see that these are not a slave’s.’ Corbulo’s nostrils flared at the implied insult, but the Spaniard appeared not to notice. ‘My sandals are standard issue, the leather is hard as mahogany wood and I have to replace the studs every two weeks.’ He bent and unwound the leather ties holding his left shoe. ‘Here.’ He handed it to the general. ‘My spares are the same. Those belong to a rich man. An officer.’
Corbulo weighed the sandal in his hand. He motioned for one of the blood-spattered pair and compared the two. It was immediately clear that the second was of a much superior construction and the leather softer and more expensive. He studied Serpentius like an undertaker measuring a client for a shroud but the Spaniard met his gaze without flinching.
‘You will vouch for your man,’ he demanded, turning to Valerius. ‘You are certain this is not his sandal?’
Valerius nodded. ‘I would trust this man with my life.’
‘That is not what I asked.’
‘It is not his sandal. I would swear it on the altar of the Temple of Mars.’
The eagle’s eyes darted from one to the other and Valerius could feel his heart thundering in his ears. Eventually, the general tossed the sandal back to the Spaniard and Valerius dared to breathe once more. Corbulo nodded, and Valerius knew that the incident would never be spoken of again. He had made his decision and it was as final as any court of law.
‘I do not have time for these distractions. We have a war to fight and it seems I will be safer in my campaign tent than in my own palace.’ He turned to Casperius Niger who stood at his shoulder. ‘Are the preparations in place?’ The camp prefect nodded. ‘Then we will march at dawn. Verrens?’ Valerius straightened and Corbulo handed back the scrap of green. ‘Neither of the two auxiliary units which supplied the escort will cross the Euphrates. They will help screen the Sixth Ferrata and the Third Gallica on the march south to join Vespasian. I will leave it to you to organize their replacements with Casperius. You will suspend your investigations for the moment.’
Valerius saluted and Corbulo and his aides marched off, the governor spraying commands like slingshot pellets and the gods help the man who didn’t catch his words the first time. Only Mucianus lingered, crouched over Turpio, studying the dead face and the awful red gash in the pale throat.
‘I see no murderer,’ he said carefully. ‘All I see is a slave sacrificed for expediency.’ He looked up and stared into Valerius’s eyes. ‘I know where your loyalties lie, tribune. I warned General Corbulo against keeping you too close. It would not be the first time a killer has played rescuer to reach his victim. You failed with the snake and
