I wasn’t in the mood, so I looked for something that’d give me a clue. Shuffling round on my belly isn’t my idea of a big time, but I did find something down there on the ground that set me thinking; a long row of little round dimples pressed into the dirt, next to a tent where they stored great big skeins of horsehair.
A couple of off-duty soldiers were lounging about nearby. I decided that Scipio would want me to make whatever use I felt necessary of all available facilities, and called them over. They didn’t seem thrilled with the job I gave them, which basically consisted of a lot of scrabbling about in dirt and splintered wood. Their bad luck; they shouldn’t have joined.
Anyhow; I had a hunch about the how, and no other leads whatsoever. Rather than waste time, I made up my mind to skip resolving how, and make a start on when.
Roman army camps; they’re crowded, noisy and smelly, and there’s always someone about. But all Scipio had said was that Acer’s body “was found”, by the first patrol of the day, just after reveille. Helpful.
Yes, really. When is a doddle in an army camp, because at night, when there’s nobody about, they have sentries. A little bit of bluff with the duty officer got me a look at the previous day’s duty roster, and I sent a runner to fetch me the decurion in charge of the night watch; he in turn gave me the names of the sentries who should’ve been guarding that sector of the camp, and I had them brought up to see me.
No, they assured me, they hadn’t seen or heard anything. I told them I knew they were lying and why. They panicked and said they’d tell me the truth; they hadn’t seen or heard anything, really.
I believed them; but it was awkward, because if they genuinely hadn’t seen anybody alive or dead (and they’d have noticed a dead body, for sure) it meant that Acer arrived at the place where he died and was killed in the short period of time between the sentries’ last stroll down the alley, and the end of the nightwatch, which was when the body was found, according to Scipio. I worked out how long that period was by walking the route myself with my hand on my wrist, counting heartbeats. Figuring that reveille must be the cut-off point – the whole camp seething with peoplegetting up and rushing about – I ended up coming to the conclusion that Acer must’ve left his tent, which was where he’d last been seen, five thousand heartbeats before reveille, in order to have time to walk from his tent to the place where he was killed; furthermore, that he was killed pretty well as soon as he got there. Implication; the killer knew he’d be coming, and was waiting for him.
Which made it interesting; since the killer had to get there too, unless his assigned sleeping-place was in the alley itself – and nobody matched those criteria; I checked. The alleyway was formed by the stores on one side and the plunder-stash on the other, and it goes without saying that both of those were heavily guarded at night against the depredations of light-fingered squaddies, so no chance of anybody sneaking in during the day and hiding till Acer arrived.
Fine, I thought; so I went and talked to the guards. The quartermaster, in charge of the stores, swore by the River that he hadn’t seen or heard, et cetera. More to the point, he had four Greek clerks who spread their bedrolls out in the four entrances to the stores compound, a simple and praiseworthy precaution. On the other side, the soldiers who’d guarded the plunder were equally adamant, which accounted for three points of the compass; “and you don’t have to worry about anybody coming from the north,” one of them added with a grin, while the other two sniggered.
“Don’t I?” I said. “Why’s that?”
The soldier smiled and pointed.
“All right,” I said, “there’s a palisade of high stakes. What about it?”
“That’s the animal pen,” the soldier said. “Where all the captured livestock’s
A couple of off-duty soldiers were lounging about nearby. I decided that Scipio would want me to make whatever use I felt necessary of all available facilities, and called them over. They didn’t seem thrilled with the job I gave them, which basically consisted of a lot of scrabbling about in dirt and splintered wood. Their bad luck; they shouldn’t have joined.
Anyhow; I had a hunch about the how, and no other leads whatsoever. Rather than waste time, I made up my mind to skip resolving how, and make a start on when.
Roman army camps; they’re crowded, noisy and smelly, and there’s always someone about. But all Scipio had said was that Acer’s body “was found”, by the first patrol of the day, just after reveille. Helpful.
Yes, really. When is a doddle in an army camp, because at night, when there’s nobody about, they have sentries. A little bit of bluff with the duty officer got me a look at the previous day’s duty roster, and I sent a runner to fetch me the decurion in charge of the night watch; he in turn gave me the names of the sentries who should’ve been guarding that sector of the camp, and I had them brought up to see me.
No, they assured me, they hadn’t seen or heard anything. I told them I knew they were lying and why. They panicked and said they’d tell me the truth; they hadn’t seen or heard anything, really.
I believed them; but it was awkward, because if they genuinely hadn’t seen anybody alive or dead (and they’d have noticed a dead body, for sure) it meant that Acer arrived at the place where he died and was killed in the short period of time between the sentries’ last stroll down the alley, and the end of the nightwatch, which was when the body was found, according to Scipio. I worked out how long that period was by walking the route myself with my hand on my wrist, counting heartbeats. Figuring that reveille must be the cut-off point – the whole camp seething with peoplegetting up and rushing about – I ended up coming to the conclusion that Acer must’ve left his tent, which was where he’d last been seen, five thousand heartbeats before reveille, in order to have time to walk from his tent to the place where he was killed; furthermore, that he was killed pretty well as soon as he got there. Implication; the killer knew he’d be coming, and was waiting for him.
Which made it interesting; since the killer had to get there too, unless his assigned sleeping-place was in the alley itself – and nobody matched those criteria; I checked. The alleyway was formed by the stores on one side and the plunder-stash on the other, and it goes without saying that both of those were heavily guarded at night against the depredations of light-fingered squaddies, so no chance of anybody sneaking in during the day and hiding till Acer arrived.
Fine, I thought; so I went and talked to the guards. The quartermaster, in charge of the stores, swore by the River that he hadn’t seen or heard, et cetera. More to the point, he had four Greek clerks who spread their bedrolls out in the four entrances to the stores compound, a simple and praiseworthy precaution. On the other side, the soldiers who’d guarded the plunder were equally adamant, which accounted for three points of the compass; “and you don’t have to worry about anybody coming from the north,” one of them added with a grin, while the other two sniggered.
“Don’t I?” I said. “Why’s that?”
The soldier smiled and pointed.
“All right,” I said, “there’s a palisade of high stakes. What about it?”
“That’s the animal pen,” the soldier said. “Where all the captured livestock’s
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