The War at the Edge of the World Read Online Free PDF Page A

His hair was dull brown, cut in a bowl, and his round smooth face displayed only bland enquiry.
    ‘You have a Pannonian look,’ the notary went on. ‘Where were you born?’
    ‘Taurunum, dominus, on the Danube. My father was a veteran of the Fourth Flavia Felix.’
    ‘Ah, following in his footsteps, good…’
    Hardly, Castus thought. His father had been invalided out of the legion before he himself had been born. He had taken up blacksmithing, but was a bitter man and a bad drunk, and had never wanted his son to join the army. You’re too stupid to be a soldier , he had said, grimacing through another morning hangover. What use would the legions have for you? I suppose they could use that great thick head of yours as a battering ram!
    ‘And you served for some time with the Herculiani prior to your promotion, I understand, in Persia and on the Danube?’ the notary asked. Castus nodded again, staring at the far wall.
    ‘Yes, dominus. First in the cohorts, then assigned to the lanciarii . I was draco-bearer of my cohort before I was promoted.’
    ‘Ah, really?’ The notary spoke quietly, and far too smoothly. He settled himself deeper into his cloak, although with the brazier glowing the room was not cold. ‘Then you must know the condition of the Danubian army very well, I should say?’
    Something in the man’s tone was angling, ominous. Castus felt a slight prickle of perspiration at the back of his neck. He nodded, staring at the wall and trying not to let his discomfort show. The noise of the rain outside was a steady rushing hiss.
    ‘And how would you describe this condition ? Are the troops… loyal?’
    ‘Yes, dominus!’ Castus declared, surprised. ‘Of course… All soldiers of Rome are loyal to the emperors.’ He had spoken loudly to cover his apprehension. His distaste as well: the suggestion that the elite Danubian legions might be less than loyal felt like a personal insult.
    ‘To the emperors, yes. But are they loyal to all the emperors equally, would you say?’
    Sweat broke on Castus’s back and trickled down his spine. He had the bizarre sensation that he was being accused of something. What was happening here? What had these men been discussing before he entered the room? His sense of intuition had almost deserted him. Worryingly, he noticed that Arpagius was looking increasingly uncomfortable, dabbing at his brow with his cuff. The tribune, Rufinius, looked grimmer than ever.
    ‘Yes, they’re loyal to all the emperors. Dominus.’
    The notary smiled and made a slight humming noise. ‘That’s good to know,’ he said. ‘But tell me – I believe the son of our western Caesar Constantius was on the Persian expedition. A man named Constantine. He would have been a junior tribune then. Did you happen to see him at all?’
    ‘Yes, dominus. He led one of the allied cavalry squadrons at Oxsa. After the battle he… gave me this torque with his own hand.’ Castus dropped his chin, feeling the clasp of the golden circlet at his throat.
    ‘And was he popular with the troops?’
    ‘Certainly. He was a good soldier.’
    Tribune Constantine – Castus remembered him well enough, even years later. That long bony face and solid jaw, those deep-set, rather intense eyes. He thought back to a day in the south of Mesopotamia: the imperial party had gone to view the ancient ruins of Babylon, and Castus had been one of the guards. He remembered the young Constantine standing alone on a dusty mound, staring out across the burnt brown walls with a look of deep concentration. Look at him , one of the other soldiers had muttered. Reckons he’s Alexander the Great …
    ‘Perhaps,’ said the governor, Arpagius, abruptly, ‘perhaps we’ve questioned the centurion enough now?’
    ‘Ah, yes, my apologies, I was only curious,’ the notary said. He shifted forward a little, still gazing at Castus.
    ‘The notary Nigrinus has brought a certain matter to our attention,’ Arpagius went on. ‘We considered