Aventicum, Civitas Helvetiorum, guard post on the eastern gate of the city wall, in the year of the consul Lucius Cassius Longinus [30 CE]

The distant crow of a cock drifted through the chilly morning air, jolting Lucius awake. His pilum clattered to the floor, and the metallic sound of the point hitting the flagstones disrupted the silence. Lucius
muttered a curse. He'd probably leaning on the spear—again. With bated breath, he looked around, waited, anxious the centurion might have heard the clamour on the city wall, the treacherous sound betraying his neglect of his duty.

Everything remained quiet. Perhaps Gaius Vitellius was asleep himself at this early hour.

Lucius picked up his weapon with clammy fingers and strolled to the parapet of the watchtower, stifling a yawn. His turn was almost over, and he longed for the opportunity to get out of the brisk autumn cold. From his perch on the wall, he could see the mountain ranges to the north as a black silhouette against the lightening sky. Below them, the marshes and the lake remained shrouded in swathes of pinkish morning mist. This time of the year, they could hang over the wetlands until close to noon before the sun rose high enough to dissolve them.

For a moment, he wondered if Cinna, his friend's former lover, was still out there in the plain, braving the cold. It must have been well past midnight when she'd begged him to let her pass, her wide, tear-filled eyes shredding his resolution to send the young woman home. Silly goose—she was now married to Flavius Otacilius Parvus, the rich nephew of the magistrate. Why would a beautiful, pampered girl like her still be mooning over a freedman, a simple member of the city guard? Especially since Marius left the vigiles months ago, right after he heard of Cinna's betrothal, driven away by his broken heart. His former love could enjoy all the luxury of life in one of the fanciest insulae in town. Instead, she had nothing better to do than haunt the marshes at night.

Lucius shook his head in disbelief and walked to the inner side of the wall, overseeing the road between the gate and the city. The first travellers willing to leave the protected area by the eastern gate arrived on this road now with their carts, an ox moaning his discontent with the early start. A driver lifted a hand and Lucius greeted back.

The creaking of the great iron hinges reverberated through the watch tower as his comrades flung open the solid oaken doors beneath his perch and the cart drivers yelled at their beasts to pick up the pace. The clatter of the iron-shod wheels darkened for a moment while the wagons passed through the gate. Lucius yawned. Not too long now until he could sneak under his heavy blankets and catch up on sleep.

"City guard, centurion Vitellio." The breathless call of a runner chased away his tiredness and thoughts of sleep. Lucius bowed over the inner parapet of the wall to get a better look. A young man in uniform reached the guardhouse from the north and doubled over, panting. Was this Pius from the group assigned to the northeastern gate? He couldn't fathom why they would bother to send a runner—unless something grave happened at the smaller gate.

The centurion stepped out of the door to talk to the exhausted guardsman. Lucius was too far away to understand their exchange, but when Gaius Vitellius looked up at him and gestured for him to come join them, he didn't waste time.

While Lucius hastened down the narrow steps, his pilum pressed against his chest, he heard the drawn-out note of the alarm horn resounding through the mighty masonry. He wondered what could be urgent enough to call together the whole detachment of the guard, including the lookout from the wall.

Breathless, he met the others in front of the guardhouse. With the three men stumbling out of the sleeping quarters, bleary-eyed and struggling to get their armour in place, all eight members of his contubernium were now assembled. Antonius, still barefoot, dangled his caligae by their straps from his left hand while he rubbed grit from his eyes and yawned.

The centurion's lean face was unreadable beneath the rim of his polished iron helmet. "Ave. Young Pio here reports a murder in the sanctuary down by the port. We will investigate." He pointed at the two eldest men. "Iano and Antonio, the change of the guard is imminent. You two stay here at the gate and report to centurion Livio Parcellus. Don't forget to put on your sandals, Antonio. The rest of the team is with me. Bring your weapons. Pio, lead the way."

The detachment sorted out their equipment in record time. The centurion didn't need to goad them. Pius' pale and strained features conveyed a sense of urgency and dread.

Gaius Vitellius offered the young man a mug of watered wine. The runner gulped it down and ran a hand over his mouth to dry a few spilled drops. "Thank you, Centurio."

"Are you ready to lead?"

"Aye, Centurio, follow me." The guard guided the vigiles at a fast pace along the city wall to the northeastern gate. There, Pius greeted his comrades with a wave of the hand and moved on, out of the gate and towards the private sanctuary of an old local family on the road to the port. The high spire of the great memoria pierced the bank of mist shrouding the plain towards the lake, a beacon and distinctive landmark in the monotonous landscape.

To the right, Lucius recognised the columns of the southern fanum, a square temple dedicated to the local gods. But Pius turned left and passed the gate into the private enclosure of the memoria where another guard, Julius, waited with a stern face. He seemed relieved and raised a hand in greeting. "Ave, Centurio, over here."

The men stopped while Gaius Vitellius stepped forward. Lucius' heart missed a beat when he saw what Julius was pointing at. There, right in front of the monument, a slender figure lay twisted on the flagstones. Crimson blood soaked her white tunic, and the dark handle of a dagger stuck out of her back.

Dread freezing his blood, Lucius ignored his comrades and approached with faltering steps, his teeth gritting against each other. He had to know. Black hair spilled over the face of the murdered person, but he didn't need to see her fine features. A silver ring blinked on the second finger of her hand that reached out towards the memoria, as if begging for help. He remembered seeing this ring tonight, gleaming in the light of a tiny lamp. And back when Marius hoped to gain Cinna's hand and favour, he had been bragging about this ring.

Lucius shuddered, bile rising in his throat. This was his fault.

"Did you know her, Lucio?" The centurion's hand on his shoulder felt leaden as guilt made him dizzy.

He nodded and swallowed, aware it was too late to hide the truth. But it would become known soon enough, wouldn't it? "Yes, I've seen the woman once or twice. It's Cinna, the new wife of Flavius Otacilius Parvus, the nephew of the magistrate."

Gaius Vitellius stepped closer and squatted by the victim, brushing back her damp curls with a thumb. The pale cheeks and the wide open grey eyes with their lifeless stare defied the girl's beauty. "I see. She's the spouse of an important person, then. Pio, Julio, did you already search the place for traces of the murderer?"

Julius stepped forward and nodded. "Aye, Centurio. I did a search while waiting, but couldn't find anything helpful. The flagstones are clean except for her blood and the oil spilt from her broken lamp."

The centurion rubbed his chin. "Right, we best carry her body back to town, then. Build a stretcher."

Glad to concentrate on a manual task, Lucius fought the urge to glance at Cinna while they improvised a stretcher using two spears as poles, tied together with several leather straps. When it was ready, they rolled the body onto it.

Lucius was glad he didn't have to touch the girl, but pulled an edge of Cinna's soiled palla over her face to hide her disturbing features. Or to give her back some dignity. The knowledge she might be alive if he had denied her plea last night gnawed at his peace of mind. He turned away to stare at the soiled flagstones and the shards of the oil lamp scattered near the drying puddle of blood. The young woman had carried a light last night, when she begged him to pass the gate. Without thinking, Lucius bent to collect the shattered pieces.

"Lucio, are you coming?" The centurion's voice was level. But when Lucius saw that four of his comrades had already picked up the poles of the makeshift stretcher, he knew he had to hurry.

"Yes, Centurio. Just cleaning up the ground, here." Stepping around the blood, he picked up the last two pottery fragments and stowed them in his belt pouch. Perhaps Marius would want them as a token, a memento of his lost love.

Lucius tore his gaze from the soiled flagstones. He shivered while he picked up the forgotten spear of a volunteer carrying the body and hurried after the silent group of his companions, back towards the city gate still shrouded in the damp morning mists.

Only a single shard of the lamp remained wedged in the crack between two flagstones, where Cinna's fingers had pushed it in her last moments.