From the answers he received, Valerius put together a list of people who had used the corridors in the hours before Domitia encountered the cobra. He placed Domitia at the top of the list and himself in second place. They were followed by the senior officers who had visited Corbulo during the day. Finally there were a dozen or so slaves who had access to the governor’s rooms to bring him food, clean, and carry out all the normal domestic tasks of a slave in a Roman household.
When the list was complete he took it to Corbulo to update him on his progress.
‘I’m sure there’s nothing you’d enjoy more than interrogating legate
Mucianus
,’ the general said. ‘But he and his camp prefect, tribune Niger and legate Traianus all came to see me while I was there, and left immediately. For the moment, concentrate on the slaves.’
Valerius sought out Serpentius, who, despite his new freedman’s status, preferred to live in the slave quarters. ‘If I question them alone,’ he explained, ‘they’ll tell me what they think I want to hear. Your presence always ensures a little more objectivity. We’ll make these four our priority. According to the guards, they were all carrying some kind of container.’
The Spaniard looked over the list.
‘I think you can forget Perellia. From what I hear she does a lot more than give the governor his massage at bath time. Big girl, dark hair and well set up. If she wanted to murder him she wouldn’t need a snake. She could kill him with kindness, if you get my meaning?’
‘But she was carrying a basket, which still makes her a suspect. You’re probably right, but the governor isn’t going to thank us for taking his concubine off the list. We’ll question her first.’
But when they ordered the overseer, a Syrian freedman, to fetch the four slaves they discovered they had more pressing problems than Perellia’s basket.
‘I’m sorry, sir.’ The terrified man was visibly quaking as he confessed. ‘Turpio is missing.’
‘Turpio is the slave who was to replace the governor’s linen?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Is there any reason why he should leave the slave quarters at night?’
The overseer shook his head. ‘He should have been locked in with the rest. They said he went to the
latrina
and didn’t return.’
‘Who are his friends?’ Valerius demanded. ‘Come on, man. He must have had friends. How long has he been gone?’
‘Three hours,’ the man confirmed. ‘They thought nothing of it. Sometimes … sometimes he sold himself to the guards.’
Serpentius gave a grunt that might have been a laugh. Now they understood why the Syrian was so frightened. If Turpio was regularly allowed to slink out of the slave quarters, it meant that the overseer or his deputy was getting a cut of whatever he was earning.
‘Three hours,’ Valerius calculated. ‘He could be five or six miles away by now. Serpentius, get me the guard commander.’
The centurion arrived bleary-eyed and belligerent, but Valerius had no time for niceties. ‘It seems you may have allowed the man who tried to kill the governor to escape.’ The soldier’s face went pale and it was clear Valerius now had his attention. ‘I want patrols on the main road to Seleucia and Daphne, and on the roads north and west. Every other man will search the palace and the surrounding area.’
When the centurion had rushed out shouting orders to his men, Valerius turned to Serpentius. ‘Let me know if they find him, though I doubt if they will. He’d have to be a fool to stay near the palace. He’ll either be hiding in the city with his accomplices or somewhere on the road where he feels safe.’
‘Where will you be?’
Valerius yawned. ‘In bed. One way or the other it’s going to be a busy day.’
It was easy to see why they hadn’t found Turpio in the night. Who would have thought to look in the river?
The body lay face up and trapped between a fallen branch and a large rock.
Turpio
’s young features were the bloodless, fish-belly white of unpainted marble and his mouth hung open showing yellow teeth and a stump of tongue. At first Valerius thought it had been cut out, which seemed overly cautious if you were going to kill the man anyway. On closer investigation, however, it seemed that it, like his eyes, had become a delicacy for the pair of ravens that had perched on his chest until he was discovered by a legionary making his discreet morning libation to the Orontes. The rock lay less than four paces from the bank and Valerius could clearly see the vivid scar of the second smile that had been opened below Turpio’s chin.
‘We’ll never know who he was working with now,’ Serpentius said cheerfully. ‘He must have been meeting someone who had promised to pay him or help him escape, maybe both. Whoever it was decided they couldn’t rely on him to keep his mouth shut.’
They waited while two legionaries dragged the body to the bank. Turpio’s threadbare tunic was ripped, probably where it had caught on the branch that had kept him from floating downriver towards Seleucia Pieria. The chest from the throat down had been sheeted with blood, but was now a washed-out pink. Valerius bent over the body and examined the wound. It ran horizontally from one side of the neck to the other, obscene and pink-lipped and deep enough to have cut almost to the spine.
The Spaniard crouched beside him. ‘A nice piece of work.’ Valerius was happy for Serpentius to take the lead. The gladiator knew more about creating wounds like these than was good for a man. ‘Sword work, see? Too deep and clean for a knife if the killer was standing in front of him and too straight if he came from behind. One quick professional stroke that took out the big veins on either side and the windpipe too. Turpio the snake charmer would have bled out in about a minute and he wouldn’t have made a sound. Your man probably used a
spatha
or something similar, because if it had been a
gladius
he would have been covered with blood. Gladiator work.’ He rose to his feet and pirouetted, at the same time drawing his long sword and carving the air in a single whispering sweep that had the men standing closest stepping back. ‘Maybe he would have got a few spots on his clothes or his boots, but it would only be noticeable if you really looked. Dump the body in the river and then go back to wherever he came from. He couldn’t know that Turpio would hang around long enough to be found.’
‘And tell us we’re looking for not one assassin, but two.’
‘What’s that?’ The Spaniard pointed at Turpio’s clenched fist where a scrap of green was just visible.
Valerius forced back the dead fingers and pulled out a ragged fragment of bright green cloth. The same green cloth that the tunics and cloaks of the auxiliary escort were manufactured from.
‘Cavalry?’ Serpentius suggested.
Valerius looked across the river to where Antioch was beginning to shimmer in the heat of the morning. ‘It would make sense, when you combine it with the heavy sword.’
‘The Parthians, then. This King Vologases must have spies in Antioch, even amongst the governor’s servants and the Syrian auxiliaries, who
to
my thinking would as well be Parthian as Roman. If he believes General Corbulo is planning to move against him it would make a kind of sense to kill him. A knife direct to the heart of the enemy. And a snake is a very eastern method of murder.’
‘That’s true, but there is another possibility.’
‘Who supplied the escort?’
Valerius nodded. ‘The Syrian auxiliaries are attached to the Sixth Ferrata, the Scythians to the Fifteenth Apollinaris. So Mucianus and Collega. Gaius Pompeius Collega is not one of the favoured inner circle and it’s plain he disagrees with Corbulo’s plan. What if he decided that the best way to gain the Emperor’s favour was to remove a man who is not only exceeding his orders, but is also, for all his protestations of loyalty, a potential rival? But …’
‘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.