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

Marcus – who had been making orders with suppliers – didn’t return to the office until the tenth hour, by which time most of the basilica was deserted.

  ‘By Jupiter, what a day. How about you, sir?’

  ‘Unpleasant. If my calculations are correct, we cannot afford to lose a single basket more of grain or Tuccius will have me out scouring the countryside. Or worse. What more do you know of this Stolo? I’ve not even had a reply from him.’

  Marcus chewed his lip. ‘Sir, I shouldn’t have mentioned anything. Stolo is the magistrate’s chief investigator – he can make trouble for anyone.’

  ‘Why is this allowed to go on? If the man’s a drunk why doesn’t the magistrate replace him?’

  ‘That’s simple enough.’

  Cassius frowned.

  ‘Sir, Stolo is the magistrate’s brother-in-law.’

  Cassius almost laughed. ‘Of course he is. By the gods. One more thing, Marcus. This Zinniridi character told me that Eusthatios has an ex-wife; and suggested that she might be responsible for the fires. Know anything about her?’

  ‘Not a thing, sir.’

  Cassius was about to ask him who would, then realised he possessed the answer himself.

  After dinner, he took the flask of wine Simo had purchased for him and walked around to the villa next door.

  Gaius Pontius and his wife had been very welcoming, assisting Simo with household arrangements and showing Cassius around the city. After a recent incident where he’d made a drunken - and unsuccessful - advance towards one of their friend’s daughters, contact had been limited. But with the previous day’s dinner invitation, it seemed the air had now cleared. Apart from the fact that he needed their help, Cassius was keen to restore good relations: Gaius had an excellent library, which he was happy to share.

  Their attendant answered the door but his master soon appeared, a sheaf of papers in his hand.

  ‘Ah, Cassius.’

  ‘Gaius, good evening. I do hope I’m not disturbing you.’

  ‘Not at all. How can I help?’

  ‘It’s a matter connected to my work. I think perhaps both yourself and Helena might be able to assist.’

  ‘If we can, we will.’

  Cassius gave him the wine.

  ‘Ah, thank you.’

  Cassius liked Gaius very much. He wore an unfashionably thick beard and dressed in garish colours utterly at odds with his sober, reserved manner.

  ‘Do come in.’ Gaius led the way through the atrium and out to the terrace, where Helena was sitting with some needlework upon her lap.

  ‘Good evening, Helena.’

  ‘Hello,’ she replied with a smile. ‘It seems an age since we’ve seen you.’

  Gaius brought over another chair and the two of them sat down.

  ‘Lovely evening,’ said Cassius as he adjusted the hem of his tunic.

  Helena set her needlework aside. ‘It is. We got your note. I think three apologies will suffice, don’t you, Gaius?’

  ‘I’d already forgotten about it.’

  Cassius believed that: Gaius had made his money in shipping and now concentrated on his real passion: geography. He was a devout acolyte of Pausanias and was halfway through a treatise on the ancient rituals and customs of the local area.

  ‘You’re very kind. Now, I don’t wish to take up any more of your evening than is necessary so I’ll get straight to it. You’re aware of these fires – the two warehouses?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Helena.

  ‘Of particular concern to yourself, I would imagine,’ added Gaius.

  ‘Indeed. One particular line of enquiry involves the owner. His name is Eusthatios - I’m told that he is divorced.’

  Though not one for gossip, Helena was exceptionally well-connected in Cyzicus, having lived there all her life. There were very few among the city’s upper classes that she did not know.

  ‘Yes. I believe Domitia left him a year or so ago.’

  ‘Without wishing to foster unfounded accusations, it was suggested to me that she might still hold a grudge against him.’

  ‘Enough to have someone set fire to his warehouses?’ asked Gaius.

  ‘There is no evidence for that,’ said Cassius swiftly. ‘It’s just one line of enquiry.’

  Helena clasped her hands on her lap and gazed out at the darkness.

  ‘In my experience, few divorces are amicable. I do know that their relationship was tempestuous even from the beginning: arguments in public, that type of thing. I can’t claim to know Domitia well but she does have a reputation for being rather … I was going to say fiery but that seems wholly inappropriate.’

  Gaius smothered a chuckle.

  ‘Impetuous?’ asked Cassius.

  ‘Yes. And not just with her husband. She’s had disputes with quite a few people over the years – and doesn’t appear to be mellowing with age.’

  ‘Anything that could be considered criminal?’

  ‘No. But she has been known to slap people. And not only servants.’

  ‘I see. And what of the divorce itself?’

  ‘I wouldn’t know. Money can often be an issue, of course. They were married for at least seven or eight years, I should say. And Eusthatios has always done very well.’

  ‘Can you think of anyone else who would know more?’

  ‘Than my wife?’ said Gaius. ‘Unlikely.’

  Helena’s glare of admonishment turned quickly into a smile. The way they always seemed to get on reminded Cassius of his own parents. The pair were about the same age but childless - he’d wondered if that was why they had taken him under their wing.

  ‘I can ask around,’ said Helena. ‘Subtly, of course. I assume time is of the essence?’

  ‘Very much so. Eusthatios seems convinced that someone is out to destroy him.’

  ‘Who is investigating for the magistrate?’ asked Gaius.

  ‘A man named Stolo.’

  The couple exchanged looks.

  Gaius said, ‘Might I surmise that this is why you are pursuing the matter yourself?’

  ‘You might. I don’t particularly relish the prospect of meeting the man but I fear I will have to do so.’

  ‘You know where he is usually to be found?’

  ‘I do.’

  Flora’s was not an entirely unpleasant place. A dozen patrons occupied chairs and benches: half outside on a reasonably clean terrace, half inside the rather gloomy interior. Despite the lack of light, freshly-laid rushes and some kind of perfume made the odour within tolerable.

  Cassius arrived there just after midday and asked at the bar for Stolo. Though he was relieved that no more warehouses had been attacked during the night, what he had discovered over the course of the morning was equally alarming.

  The stout serving-woman nodded towards a corner, where three middle-aged men were playing dice. ‘Anything for you, sir?’

  ‘Not today.’

  Cassius had his helmet under his arm. It was too warm for a cloak but he wanted Stolo do be in no doubt that he was addressing an army officer. As he approached the table, the three men looked up from their game.

  ‘Stolo?’

  ‘I had a nasty feeling you were looking for me.’

  The investigator was a seedy-looking character: rather overweight, with a double chin and veiny cheeks. He had taken his sandals off and was slumped back in his chair.

  ‘Centurion Corbulo, procurement. I understand you’re investigating these fires?’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘May I speak to you in private?’

  ‘Anything wrong with here?’ Stolo nodded at a spare chair.

  Cassius – who had no desire to join the trio - put his helmet down.

  When one of his friends picked up the dice, Stolo tutted. ‘Wait for me. Won’t be long.’ He turned back to Cassius. ‘Got my best men on it – ears to the ground. They’ll dig up something soon.’

  ‘With respect, soon’s not good enough.’

  At this, Stolo gave a fai
nt look of disdain and a shake of his head.

  The question of seniority was complex. One man was in the army, one an officer of the law. One was young, one was old; one local, one new to the city.

  Cassius didn’t particularly care. ‘If we lose another warehouse, I have a serious supply issue on my hands.’

  ‘You won’t. There was no fire last night. Someone’s out to harm Eusthathios, that’s all. Now they know I’m onto them, they’ll probably leave it at that.’

  ‘I thought that was the motivation but now I’m not sure. There was a fire last night. At an encampment east of the city.’

  Stolo waved a hand at him. ‘That’s not connected - those bloody refugees are always setting fire to themselves. Weren’t even any deaths.’

  ‘Only because of good luck. Half a dozen tents were incinerated. And that’s not all: apparently someone tried to break into a timber yard only a half-mile from the camp. He was seen by a watchman and fled.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘What if it’s the same person? Guards on the warehouses so he tries the timber-yard - foiled there so he fires the encampment.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I don’t know. Someone with reason to attack the city.’

  ‘Other refugees? Palmyrans?’

  One of Stolo’s friends weighed in. ‘They’re advancing forty miles every week. Could easily have saboteurs here already.’

  Cassius made a mental note not to discount that possibility. ‘The point is, it needs looking into. Who knows what he’s going to try next? The basilica? The fortress?’

  ‘All right, young man, calm yourself. Was there any description?’

  ‘No. He ran.’

  ‘I’ll get men out to the locations and get them checked.’

  Stolo reclaimed his mug of wine and turned his attention back to the dice.

  ‘When, exactly?’ asked Cassius.

  ‘Soon as my lunch hour’s over.’

  Cassius picked up