said.
“Probably.” Lucius shrugged a shoulder. “No one would even notice.”
“Why not?” Falto demanded with the blank eyes of a confused drunk. Lucius groaned with impatience. Hektor rolled his eyes.
They reached the Antonia gate just as the guards were closing it. Lucius felt his first pang of fear. The opium was wearing off. If Valentius didn’t believe their story, Tribune Salvitto’s unyielding code of justice would order their execution.
Knowing it was too late to try anything else, Lucius called to the legionaries in the watch tower. “Centurion Longinus is missing! Sound the alarm!” Lucius and Hektor dragged Falto between them. “And this man is injured!”
Several legionaries ran to them. “Get a medicus!” shouted Lucius. He and Hektor let Falto fall to the ground. Men came from the barracks at the sound of the ram’s horn. Hektor saw the door to Centurion Valentius’s quarters open. He gestured to Lucius to get ready.
Felix Pomponius Valentius had a slight build, but was stronger than he looked. He was shorter than most soldiers and wore caligae with extra thick soles to compensate. His thin lips were set in a perpetual frown. His long nose and bushy low eyebrows diminished the strength of his jaw and chin. His eyesight was failing, but squinting helped. At the age of fifty seven, he was going bald, left with only a crown of sparse graying brown hair.
Valentius was the first-line commander to Adas. He was once the cohort centurion of the 3rd Cohors. During an uprising in Samaria, Valentius had disobeyed orders given by Cohort Centurion Tacitus of the 4th Cohors. Despite Valentius’s outranking him, Tacitus was in charge of the campaign, while Centurion Cornelius served at his second-in-command. Valentius ordered an unauthorized charge which resulted in the needless deaths of many soldiers. At his court-martial Valentius testified that the papyrus, explaining his orders, was damaged and illegible. The courier testified he delivered the orders intact. Neither man had collaborating witnesses who could confirm the condition of the papyrus at the time of delivery.
Centurion Cornelius contended Valentius may only have miscalculated. Centurion Tacitus countered that if the papyrus was damaged, he should have kept it for proof rather than burn it, despite protocol. Tacitus wanted Valentius sentenced to fustuarium, to be stoned to death by the surviving soldiers he endangered. However, Valentius had an outstanding military record, having earned his way up to command the 3rd Cohors. Except for the dissenting vote of one judge, the court sentenced him to pecunaria multa, reduced pay, and gradus deiectio, reduction in rank. He was demoted to the 10th Cohors. Even though this was an act of mercy, it was devastating to his reputation. Rumors surfaced that Valentius led the attack in hopes of discrediting Tacitus. By rank, Valentius should have been in command of the campaign, not Tacitus.
Equally tragic, Valentius was seriously wounded, which led to opium addiction. As the years passed, bitterness hardened his heart while addiction clouded his judgment and kept him in fear of bankruptcy. He earned a significant salary despite his pay reduction, but his opium debts were accumulating at an escalating rate. Many Roman families sold their children into slavery when faced with bankruptcy, but Valentius didn’t have that option. Fortunately, he had amassed a substantial retirement pension by working years past the usual age of retirement to compensate for less pay. If he could hold out until he retired, he would pay off his debts, but there would be little money left. Valentius would need more income.
“What is going on here?” demanded Valentius. He glanced at Falto and turned to the closest legionary. “Go find Demitre.” The legionary headed for the slave quarters. Valentius shouted orders to reopen the fortress gates and to tell the stable slaves to saddle horses.
“Sir, we must speak to you immediately,” whispered Lucius. The centurion eyed the big legionary, but ignored his request.
Valentius spotted his Greek slave, a physician, and gestured at him impatiently. He scowled at the soldiers standing by. “Get this man to the infirmary. Demitre, see what’s wrong with him and report back to me.” The men obeyed.
Valentius headed to his office indicating Lucius and Hektor were to follow. They stepped inside and he slammed the door shut. “What have you done, Octavean?”
Lucius stood at attention. “Sir, it had been three days, and the centurion sent us to buy food. When we came back, the centurion was unconscious and there was a bloody rock by him. I told Falto to bandage his wounds while Hektor and I hunted for the culprit, but couldn’t find anyone. When we got back, the tomb was empty, Falto was unconscious, and the centurion was gone. His knapsack and weapons were still there. We again searched for the culprits who must have taken Centurion Longinus, but it was getting dark. We went back to the garden, got Falto, and came here.” Lucius removed Adas’s belongings from his knapsack. “Sir, the Nazarene’s followers obviously stole the body, and took the centurion.”
Valentius circled the two men. He stopped in front of Lucius, inches from his face and slowly tilted his head back with a finger. “And this cut under your chin. Did the centurion’s sword do this, while it was in his hand? Longinus is mine. I told you to spy on him, not attack him. Your little story might fool Tribune Salvitto, but not me. If you have killed him, I will kill you. Did you?”
“No, Sir! I did not! But when he returns, he will tell a different story.”
Valentius’s unblinking eyes remained fixed on Lucius. “I bet he will. Which one of you hit him with the rock?”
Hektor opened his mouth, but Valentius snapped, “Shut up!” Valentius paced in front of them while they stood at attention. “I should behead the two of you, and sell Weasel to the gladiatoris for target practice.”
Valentius paced a few more rounds then stopped. “But I’m not going to because you’re going to tell me what really happened, every detail.” He extended a hand, palm up. “You brought the rock to back up your lies, didn’t you?”
Hektor swallowed hard as he pulled it out of his knapsack.
Valentius stepped in front of Lucius. “Octavean, don’t ever lie to me again.”
Chapter 11
Malchus stepped out into the night and paused to let his eyes adjust. He was taking a big risk going to the Antonia alone. Few people ventured out after dark, except for robbers, drunks, and the occasional mounted patrol, all of which he needed to avoid. Malchus kept close to the shadows, stopping often to listen for footsteps or the clatter of hooves. The sounds of chirping locusts mingled with distant laughter. Malchus heard a woman shouting at someone and a door slammed. He stepped around the corner of a wall at the same time a dog inside the courtyard leaped at the wall, barking furiously. Malchus jumped, unnerved at the sudden noise. He hurried down an alley. As he passed under a stand of palm trees an owl screeched, warning him away. The bird spread its wings and silently took flight.
Nearing the Antonia Fortress, he could see the torches at the iron gates. The gates were open. Mounted soldiers carrying torches exited in pairs, scattering in different directions. Malchus decided on a new plan. He would go back for Adas and help him find a patrol. Rounding a corner, he heard the clip clop of hooves. He dodged back around the corner and waited. As the horses approached, he heard the riders talking.
“Let’s split up. I’ll go east. I hope he made it inside before they closed the gates.”
“Yes, even Tiberius couldn’t get in after sunset. It worries me that three legionaries managed to misplace their injured centurion. Something doesn’t add up.”
“Agreed.
