The Flames of Cyzicus: A Cassius Corbulo short story Read online

The second fire came earlier, in the eighth hour of night.

  Cassius didn’t find out about it until the eleventh hour and when he arrived just after dawn, the city sergeants were hard at work. There were two water-carts in attendance and a chain of buckets running to a nearby fountain. The sergeants were clustered around one corner of the building, trying to douse the remaining flames. Another pair were using grappling hooks to pull away nearby timbers that could sustain the fire.

  This blaze had been worse; it had gutted most of the structure. Clouds of grey smoke were rising from the charred remains. Nothing of the roof and perhaps a quarter of the walls had survived. Cassius could see only half a dozen of the large grain baskets still intact. Scores must have been incinerated.

  He introduced himself to the sergeant in charge. The man looked exhausted. ‘Thank the gods they always leave a good gap around these things.’ He gestured towards a nearby apartment block where dozens had gathered on balconies to enjoy the show.

  ‘Any idea how it started?’

  The sergeant shrugged and gestured at the pile of ash in front of them. Then his expression changed. ‘Look out there!’

  An overeager fellow with a grappling hook had pulled a damaged timber free from the roof. As it struck the ground, a shower of orange sparks narrowly missed a man holding a bucket.

  ‘Careful, Rassus!’

  ‘Sorry, sir.’

  Cassius asked, ‘Why were there no sentries on guard after last night?’

  ‘I suppose they didn’t have time to organise it yet.’

  ‘Who could be doing this?’

  The sergeant shrugged again. ‘Eusthatios has his own ideas.’

  ‘Of course, this is one of his too. Is he here?’’

  ‘Last time I saw him he was outside that store.’ The sergeant pointed to a ground floor establishment with a broad awning.

  ‘What about the investigator? Stolo, is it?’

  The sergeant wiped grime off his face. ‘Don’t remember the last time I saw him out and about before midday.’

  Cassius put his helmet on and pushed his way through the crowd. Though the store seemed to be a clothiers, the owner was taking advantage by selling wine to onlookers. Eusthatios was sitting at the only table with his head in his hands, a large mug in front of him. His bodyguard was close by.

  When Cassius said his name, the merchant looked up. ‘What? What do you want?’

  ‘Mind your manners. I’m trying to help.’

  ‘Apologies, centurion. But I only have two more warehouses. By the end of the week I could be a pauper.’

  ‘That’s not going to happen.’ Cassius grabbed a chair and sat beside him. ‘Yesterday you almost told me who you thought might be responsible. I need a name.’

  Eusthatios scraped his fingers across his forehead.

  ‘Whoever he is, you really think he’s capable of this?’

  The merchant nodded.

  ‘Do you have any other enemies who might wish to harm your interests?’

  ‘None that possess the balls for something like this.’

  ‘Why now?’

  ‘That I don’t know.’

  ‘Give me the name,’ said Cassius. ‘Neither you or I can afford another fire like this. Is he a competitor of yours? One of our suppliers?’

  ‘He’d like to be. That’s the point. We’ve had rival import businesses, rival tanners, fullers. Let’s just say we’ve locked horns more than a few times in the past. Recently, I’ve tried not to get involved.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘He’s dangerous. Unpredictable.’

  ‘Name,’ insisted Cassius.

  Eusthatios needed another glance at what remained of the warehouse to make up his mind. ‘A Carthaginian named Zinniridi.’

  ‘Where would I find him?’

  Cassius called in first at the basilica but Tuccius had not yet arrived.

  A hurried examination of his papers confirmed that there was probably just about enough grain left. But if another warehouse was lost, supplying the visiting legion would be virtually impossible. Cassius left a note for the tribune informing him of this and sent a letter to the magistrate’s headquarters, requesting an urgent meeting with Investigator Stolo.

  As there seemed to be little else to go on, he decided to visit this Zinniridi character. There was no time for anything more subtle and he could at least get some measure of the man and – if he was responsible - put him off further attacks.

  However, given the Carthaginian’s ‘unpredictable’ nature, Cassius was not about to confront him alone. His rank entitled him to recruit soldiers whenever required but the only ones he could find were all on sentry duty. After a frustrating half-hour, he came across a man who’d just finished his shift. The legionary was named Mus, a lanky fellow who barely seemed able to keep his eyes open and asked for two denarii for his services.

  Feeling in need of further reinforcement, Cassius sent a runner to fetch Simo and they met him at the statue of Hadrian, which was close to Zinniridi’s townhouse. Simo was quite possibly the least aggressive man Cassius had ever met but he was almost as tall as him and a good few stone heavier.

  Undoubtedly aware that he could not really refuse the request of an army officer, Zinniridi’s steward insisted on consulting his master before admitting the trio. As they were led through a broad atrium decorated with several superior mosaics, Cassius heard a noise that stopped him dead.

  ‘What in Hades was that?’

  ‘That’s Swiper,’ said the steward. ‘Don’t worry, he can’t do anyone any harm at the moment.’

  They continued on through a doorway and out into a sprawling courtyard complete with a fountain and several fruit trees. Rounding a corner, they were met by the sight of an enormous brown bear lying on a patch of grass. Behind it, shaded by one of the trees, was an iron cage. Kneeling close to the animal were two men. It was not difficult to identify the Carthaginian. Apart from his very dark skin, he wore more gleaming jewellery than Cassius’s mother and three sisters combined.

  The steward announced the visitor. ‘Master, may I present Centurion-’

  ‘Corbulo.’

  ‘- Corbulo.’

  Bloody drool was dripping from the bear’s snout. Zinniridi stroked its head and said something to the beast. Then he stood and walked over to Cassius, who was relieved when his host showed no inclination to shake hands.

  He appeared thoroughly depressed. ‘Yes?’

  ‘This shouldn’t take too long. Can I ask about your relationship with a man named Eusthathios?’

  ‘You can. I don’t like him. And he doesn’t like me.’

  Zinniridi’s beard was mostly black, with a few tufts of white and grey. He had a hard, chiselled face; that of a man not to be trifled with.

  ‘You are aware that there was a second fire last night – also at one of his warehouses?’

  ‘Yes. A chink of light in an otherwise dark day.’

  Cassius was surprised to hear such an admission. ‘So you were glad to hear of it?’

  ‘Of course. I’m relieved no one was hurt but if the man suffers - that brings me pleasure. I would very much like to see him bankrupt. It may sound strange to you but, believe me, I have my reasons.’

  ‘Which are?’

  The bear gave another plaintive wail.

  Zinniridi muttered something in what sounded to Cassius like Punic. ‘Long and rather complicated. We have been competitors and enemies for many years. However, I would not set fire to the man’s property.’

  ‘Nor employ anyone else to do the same?’

  Zinniridi’s tone became rather less cordial. ‘Of course not.’

  Cassius forced a smile. ‘I do not wish to make unfounded accusations but I have to ask these questions. Those warehouses are very valuable to the army.’

  ‘Is that it?’ asked the Carthaginian, ‘as you can see I am rather busy.’

  ‘Worth a lot, eh? Bears?’

  Zinniridi seemed as surprised
as everyone else that the legionary Mus had spoken but answered in any case. ‘Not Swiper. Not these days. He’s almost as old as I am. But to me he is worth a very great deal.’

  Cassius observed more than a flicker of emotion as the man returned to his pet.

  ‘Come on, you two.’

  But Zinniridi had one last thing left to say. ‘Centurion, if you’re looking for people with grudges against Eusthatios, you might want to consider his former wife.’

 

  Cassius knew he had to see Tuccius sooner rather than later. Once back at the basilica he dismissed Mus and Simo and went straight to his superior’s office. The wait while Tuccius concluded a meeting at least gave him a chance to cool down.

  When the tribune was finished, he summoned Cassius inside. ‘Well, Corbulo, where have you been?’

  ‘Investigating, sir. Didn’t you get my note?’

  ‘Indeed I did, but you seem to be confused regarding your role. Stolo is already looking into the fires. You know what your job is.’

  ‘Has Stolo made any progress? I requested a-’

  ‘I’m not sure. But I have the assurance of the chief magistrate himself that the man is capable and experienced. He also assured me that each warehouse will be guarded by a pair of sergeants for the foreseeable future – so we won’t be losing any more.’

  Cassius thought it impolitic to mention what Marcus had disclosed about Stolo’s drinking habits.

  Tuccius pointed at him. ‘Your note – it seemed to contain a lot of guesswork. Are you certain we have enough grain or will you need to find more?’

  ‘We should be all right, sir.’

  ‘Should? I want a definitive answer, backed up by numbers, by the end of the day.’