Nobody Loves a Centurion by John Maddox Roberts

Author:John Maddox Roberts [Roberts, John Maddox]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Mystery & Detective, Historical, Fiction
ISBN: 9781429908320
Google: EgXX52OpVfYC
Amazon: 0312320191
Publisher: St. Martin's Press
Published: 2003-10-09T18:30:00+00:00

8

MY FIRST STOP THE NEXT MORNING was the smithy. The smith, like many of the legion’s artisans, was a soldier who earned himself extra pay and exemption from fatigue by practicing a necessary craft. Luckily, repairing the lock on Vinius’s chest and crafting a key for it was not beyond his level of skill. I stood close while he did the work and paid him a couple of sesterces for the effort. It was not strictly necessary to pay him, but it is always a mistake to take such persons for granted. I might need to have my horse shod some day and it would be done more expeditiously if the man remembered me fondly.

I left the chest inside the great tent of the praetorium, where it would be about as safe as it could be under the circumstances. Then I went to speak with the men most immediately concerned with the success of my mission. I found them under heavy guard in a pit excavated next to the tent in which the standards were kept. It was twenty feet on a side and twelve feet deep. A contubernium stood around its periphery facing inward, each man with a sheaf of javelins to go with his pilum. One of the guards had a white band painted around the lower rim of his helmet, signifying that he was the decurion.

“I am the investigating officer,” I said, addressing the man with the white band. “I need to speak with the prisoners.”

“We were told you are to have access,” the decurion said. He turned to the man next to him. “Silva, run the ladder down for the captain.”

“While I confer with them, I’d appreciate it if you and your men would step back from the edge here. I need to speak in private.”

He shook his head. “Not a chance, sir. If one of them contrives to commit suicide, one of us takes his place. If they harm you, we all go in there. Just keep your voice down and we promise not to eavesdrop.”

I went down the ladder and Burrus jumped up to greet me. The rest sat disconsolately on the muddy ground, their anklerings fastened to a single chain like a slave work gang. Men in their predicament could be forgiven for a lack of enthusiasm.

“Patron!” Burrus said. “What is happening? The guards are forbidden to speak to us.”

“First off, I’ve been assigned to investigate the murder of Vinius.”

He turned to the others. “You see? I told you my patron would get us out of this. He is famous for rooting out traitors and murderers. We are as good as free!”

I was touched by his faith in me, although I feared it might be exaggerated. I looked at the rest of the contubernium and they seemed to share my skepticism. Quadratus gave me a sour smile and nod. The rest looked me over warily. They were typical soldiers, most of them older than Burrus, a couple of them silver-stubbled veterans. It was

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