The Emperor's Silver: Agent of Rome 5

by Nick Brown

  ‘No way to tell now,’ said Cassius as he pushed a thorny branch out of his way. In the middle of the sanctuary was an open space and a dusty square where a large plinth had once stood.

  ‘How could it get like this?’ asked Indavara. ‘Shouldn’t the followers look after it?’

  ‘Perhaps it was for a god who fell out of favour. It happens. Or it may have been built by people who no longer live here.’

  ‘Do you know if there is a sanctuary or shrine for Fortuna in Berytus?’

  ‘Probably somewhere, though it seems your friend Aphrodite is the local favourite. Ask Cosmas if you want to go and pay your respects.’

  Indavara kicked a clump of weeds. ‘How could they just abandon their god? I could never forget my Fortuna.’

  ‘Only because you believe she has helped you. What if things took a turn for the worse? Everything went wrong and she seemed to have forsaken you? What then?’

  ‘I would pray to her to help me. And I believe she would.’

  Cassius began his warm-up, swinging his arms across his chest. ‘Sometimes I envy you your conviction. It makes things rather simpler.’

  ‘Well, you often tell me I am simple.’

  ‘That is not what I meant, as well you know.’

  Indavara stopped in the middle of his own exercises. ‘I remember you once saying you liked the idea of Simo’s “kingdom” – where everyone you’ve ever known and loved is together and happy for ever.’

  ‘An appealing idea; but far too perfect to be something I could ever believe in.’

  ‘Do you envy Simo? His con …’

  ‘Conviction – a strongly held belief. No, I can’t say I do. I think conviction can easily become delusion; and then we get incidents like last night.’

  ‘He was just trying to help people.’

  ‘All well and good. But he belongs to me; and his first priority is to help me. Clearly he needs regular reminders of that.’

  ‘But …’

  ‘But what?’ Cassius looked up at the sky and wiped his already damp brow. ‘By the gods, it’s hot.’

  ‘Nothing,’ said Indavara. ‘Let’s fight.’

  ‘Promise not to stand on me this time?’

  ‘Yes. Promise not to catch my chin?’

  ‘No.’

  XVI

  A dozen clucking quail bustled out of the trees. It was now mating season and two of the plumper males were pecking at the ground with their bright red beaks, trying to impress the females. Alexon was sick of the noise so clapped at the birds, driving them back into the greenery.

  He looked over at Amathea, who was sitting at the edge of the meadow, which was growing drier and paler every day. Skiron was squatting by a bucket, washing his hands. He and the hunters had only just finished their work; digging up the ground on either side of the drive, ready for the flower beds Amathea wanted.

  Alexon walked over to his sister, who narrowed her eyes when she saw the expression on his face.

  ‘We don’t have to show him. But I would like the option, that’s all.’

  Alexon nodded and sat down next to her.

  Amathea continued with her sewing. ‘Anything from Sidon?’

  ‘Yes. They’ve moved all of it. They want double next time.’

  ‘Excellent. How are they paying?’

  ‘Sapphires, amethysts and ivory.’

  ‘Ah, ivory. I might have another necklace made up.’

  Alexon glanced sideways at his sister. Her mouth, to be precise. That perfect mouth. Even on the hottest, driest day, the plump, full lips glistened invitingly.

  ‘He’s here,’ said Skiron. The hunters had walked over to the other side of the meadow to practise with their bows.

  Alexon heard the gate bolt being opened, then shut. Kallikres appeared, again walking hesitantly up the drive.

  ‘Over here,’ said Alexon.

  As he came closer, the sergeant looked at Skiron, who was standing close to his mistress, sinewy arms folded across his chest.

  ‘Good day,’ said Amathea, putting her sewing to one side.

  Kallikres did not reply.

  ‘Well?’ said Alexon. ‘Your note mentioned a new problem.’

  ‘I don’t know the details but a man has arrived in the city. He seems to be working with Deputy Magistrate Diadromes – one of his sergeants has been out on the streets, questioning informers about two very specific things.’

  Amathea brushed her glossy hair away from her eyes. ‘Is this a guessing game? Continue.’

  ‘Firstly, your friend Florens. Secondly, a gang that might be producing counterfeit coins.’

  Alexon slumped back in his chair. He’d tried to control everything, predict everything; but it was always so difficult in their line of work. He looked up at the villa and hoped this wasn’t the beginning of the end. Another end. He wanted to stay.

  ‘Who is this man?’ he asked.

  ‘Possibly treasury,’ said Kallikres. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘We need a name.’

  Amathea shrugged. ‘They were already asking about the coins – probably doing the same in every city. And we already knew that Florens had been spotted.’

  ‘Sister, it is one thing for them to look for the coins, another for them to look for us.’

  ‘Where is Florens now?’ asked Kallikres.

  ‘We’ll get to that,’ replied Amathea. ‘My brother is right – we need a name plus whatever else you can get – who he works for, what he knows.’

  Kallikres shook his head. ‘Diadromes’s department is entirely separate from mine. It’s only because my superior happened to be at the magistrate’s residence that I even knew this man was here. I had to call in a favour to find out what Diadromes’s lackey was up to. Any more digging and someone will get suspicious. Everyone’s jumpy enough as it is with all the protests.’

  ‘We need a name,’ repeated Amathea.

  ‘I tried. This man doesn’t want anyone to know he’s here.’

  ‘You need money, just ask.’

  ‘It’s not about money. I cannot expose myself further. If I am implicated at all—’

  Amathea held up a hand. ‘Perhaps I have misunderstood. I thought we were paying you for information; to tell us of any threat from the city.’

  Kallikres was looking at Alexon. ‘You said I would probably have nothing to do. You said I was simply to warn you if I heard anything. This is not my fault. It is your mistake that has brought this investigator to Berytus. If they find Florens, we’re finished. Is he still here?’

  Amathea smothered a little smile. ‘Skiron.’

  The attendant walked towards the drive, gesturing for Kallikres to follow.

  ‘Go on,’ said Amathea.

  The sergeant did so; and soon found himself by one section of the prospective flower beds that was rather deeper than the others. When he looked down into it, his hand went to his mouth.

  Amathea giggled.

  Kallikres took three steps back. He bowed his head and ran both hands through his curly hair, pressing down on his skull.

  ‘Apparently it will do wonders for my roses,’ said Amathea. ‘Come back here.’

  Kallikres returned, his face clammy and pale.

  ‘He had become more trouble than he was worth,’ added Amathea. ‘I do hope you will not make the same mistake. This investigator – get his name and whatever else you can.’

  ‘Quickly,’ said Alexon.

  ‘I – I don’t know how.’

  ‘You’ll find a way,’ said Amathea.

  Skiron was now using his shovel to fill in the hole. Kallikres was listening to the clumps of earth landing.

  ‘I don’t think there’s any more to be discussed,’ said Alexon. ‘Contact us as soon as you have something.’

  Kallikres turned away.

  ‘Have a pleasant evening,’ said Amathea quietly.

  The sergeant stopped and looked back. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘It’s Thursday,’ she said. ‘Thursday is when yo
u go to see your little friend, isn’t it?’

  Kallikres’ jaw dropped.

  ‘What’s his name again?’

  ‘Pedrix,’ said Alexon.

  After the last meeting, Amathea had tasked Skiron with finding ways of applying pressure to the reluctant Kallikres.

  ‘In love with a slave boy, eh?’ added Amathea. ‘I never would have guessed it to look at you. I have always wondered, does one of you give and the other receive? Or do you take turns?’

  Kallikres had not blinked for a long time.

  ‘Please don’t tell me a city sergeant takes it from a slave boy? Have you no shame? And I’m told it’s been going on for years.’

  ‘He must be very precious to you,’ said Alexon. ‘But I hear his master sends him all over the city on various errands at all times of the day and night. Clearly he doesn’t value him as highly as you do. I mean, anything could happen.’

  Kallikres screwed his eyes shut, then opened them. ‘I will do as you ask. Leave the boy alone.’

  ‘Quickly now,’ said Amathea, ‘no sense wasting more time.’

  Kallikres hurried away.

  Amathea watched Skiron for a moment, then picked up her sewing. ‘I look forward to the time when we no longer need him. Disgusting creature.’

  XVII

  Cassius guided his horse out of the stable courtyard and on to the street. He rounded a pair of men struggling with a rebellious mule, waited for Indavara and Simo to catch up, then set off at a trot. Cosmas’s directions were tucked into his belt but two readings had been enough for him to memorise them.

  The sergeant’s letter had arrived at dawn. Apparently, observing the Gorgos brothers had not been easy. They seemed to have no regular employment, took great care not to be followed and spent much of the day conducting clandestine meetings. Cosmas was convinced they were up to something and suggested a surprise morning arrest for questioning. Considering the previous charges, they would be under considerable pressure to cooperate. Cassius agreed; he could not afford to waste time.

  The trio were to meet the sergeant and his men at a hamlet east of the city, then proceed to the Gorgos’ house and hopefully catch them unawares. According to Cosmas, they were not early risers.

  Cassius counted off the side streets to his left as he passed them; at the seventh they would pick up the main road leading out of Berytus towards the mountains. After so many hours in the tower, he felt rather exposed, even though he was wearing his mail shirt under his cloak. This could not be worn without a padded undershirt, which he was already sweating into.

  Cassius saw potential threats everywhere: movement beyond a shadowy doorway; two ruffians lurking behind a cart; a high window shutter slapping against a wall.

  After a while he realised his unease had spread to his horse and it was speeding up. He slowed and turned. Indavara and Simo were quite a way back; they had stopped by the pavement and were looking down at something.

  ‘That bloody pair.’ Cassius wheeled his horse around and rode back to them.

  ‘We had to stop,’ said Indavara. ‘Look.’

  Sitting outside a crumbling, empty house were two women and six children. They were dark skinned, filthy and clad in little more than rags. Simo stuttered an apology; he was struggling to keep his horse still while opening the money bag attached to his belt. Three of the children were on their feet, dirt-streaked arms stretched up towards the Gaul. The rest were on their way.

  ‘By the gods,’ spat Cassius. ‘Come away, you two.’

  ‘Corbulo.’ Indavara held up a hand.

  ‘Simo, I’m warning you. Leave that bag shut and ride on.’

  ‘But look at them, sir. They have nothing. I will take it out of my allowance, of course.’

  ‘Ride on!’ Cassius shouted so loudly that most of the youngsters retreated. One of the mothers came forward and dragged the last child away.

  Simo looked at his master, mouth quivering. After several seconds of hesitation, he let go of the money bag and obeyed.

  Indavara had taken out some sesterces of his own. Ignoring Cassius, he bent over the pavement and offered them to the mother. ‘Here.’

  After a brief hesitation she came forward and took the coins, thanking the bodyguard in a language Cassius didn’t recognise.

  ‘If you’re quite finished.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Indavara. ‘Are you?’

  Cassius yanked his horse around once more, cursing as he passed Simo.

  He kept up a swift pace until they were well beyond the city gates, then cantered on until he saw a bit of clear ground. Once off the road, he halted in the shade provided by a stand of cedars. He dismounted and looped his reins around a low branch.

  ‘This isn’t the place, is it?’ asked Indavara.

  ‘Just tether your horse.’

  Despite a shake of the head, the bodyguard did so.

  Simo stopped a little farther back and roped his mount to a milestone. Though he walked over to the others immediately it seemed to Cassius that he was dragging his feet.

  ‘Hurry up, you useless sod.’

  Soon the two of them were standing side by side; Simo with his eyes fixed on the ground, Indavara with his arms crossed.

  ‘Can either of you explain to me why I was left alone in the middle of a crowded street?’

  ‘Corbulo, it was only for a moment.’

  ‘We’ve been over this before. What is your job?’

  Indavara ran his tongue around his mouth and looked at the trees.

  ‘I’ll help you – bodyguard. How can you guard me if you’re twenty yards back doling out coins to urchins?’

  ‘Fair point.’

  ‘And you?’

  Simo was still looking at the ground.

  ‘Sometimes I think you really do want me to let you go. And don’t think I haven’t noticed the little protests – stale bread for lunch, the creases in my tunic. Not very subtle. Well, nothing to say?’

  ‘I apologise, Master Cassius. But the poor children.’

  Cassius walked up to him. ‘Look at me.’

  Simo – who was only an inch shorter than his master – did so. Cassius knew that broad face better than any other and, though he tried, the Gaul could not quite conceal his anger and frustration.

  ‘I think I have arrived at the conclusion that you will not remain in my employ beyond my time in the army. I will allow you to buy your freedom. Then you can do what you want; pledge your life to “good deeds” if you wish. But while you belong to me, you will do exactly as I tell you or you will be gone. Sold.’ Cassius clicked his fingers. ‘Like that.’

  He pointed at Indavara. ‘We all three of us know you are only here because of him. He will not persuade me a second time.’

  Cassius put his hand on the Gaul’s shoulder. ‘Please do not force me into a decision I do not want to make.’

  Simo’s expression softened but he said nothing.

  Cassius walked back to his horse. ‘Quickly. We’re already late.’

  The hamlet lay at the bottom of a gorge; little more than a dozen dwellings and a water mill. The settlement was next to one of the few navigable sections of the river that ran from the coastal plain through the mountains and into the Bekaa valley, much of it underground. Today, the mill’s wheel was still; there didn’t seem to be much water flowing past.

  ‘The Eleutherus,’ said Cassius as they passed a few curious villagers. ‘The proper name for the “Dog River”.’

  ‘Where we saw the statue on the way to Tripolis,’ said Indavara.

  ‘That’s right.’ Cassius pointed north-west. ‘The mouth is only a few miles that way.’

  ‘Think there’s much water up there?’

  ‘Probably not a lot at this time of year.’

  Looming over the gorge was Berytus’s main aqueduct; a huge three-layer structure built of the local pale limestone. The bottom two layers were similarly high, with broad arches spanning fifty feet. The top was much smaller and supported the water channel. Cassius
estimated that it was at least a hundred and fifty feet above the river. Some kind of work was going on; labourers were walking along the top and dozens of rope ladders had been hung from the arches.

  As promised, Cosmas was waiting by the mill. He had his own mount but the other five sergeants with him were on a cart: two at the front, three in the back. Every man was armed with sword and club. They seemed as curious as the villagers.

  ‘Morning,’ said Cosmas, a long piece of grass hanging out of his mouth.

  ‘Good day,’ replied Cassius. ‘I see you’re not taking any chances.’

  ‘I found out that the brothers did six months’ hard labour up in Sidon for horse-thieving a couple of years ago. Probably not an experience they’re keen to repeat. I’ll tell them we only want them for questioning but they may try and run.’

  ‘Where’s the house?’

  Cosmas pointed at a narrow, winding road that led eastward up out of the gorge. ‘Close to the top. Presumably you’d like to talk to them back at headquarters?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Let’s get up there, then.’

  Ignoring an elderly local who’d come over to ask what was going on, Cosmas spat out the grass and set off up the road. Cassius waited for the cart to get some distance ahead, then followed.

  ‘Why stay so far back?’ asked Indavara.

  ‘Look how steep the road is. Once when I was in Rome with my father, I saw two yoked mounts falter close to the top of a hill just like this. The cart was overloaded. The horses lost their footing and when the whole thing began to slide back the driver had no choice but to jump off. The cart tumbled all the way down the hill and fell apart. Both horses were killed and one unfortunate who couldn’t get out of the way had his leg crushed. My father had kept us well back, so we had plenty of time to get clear.’

  Indavara conceded with a nod. ‘I don’t like riding. And I think horses don’t like us riding them.’

  ‘The way you do it? Probably not.’

  Indavara ignored him.

  ‘The gods gave them to us for a reason,’ added Cassius. ‘And they’re not good for much else.’

  An attempt had been made to enclose the road but the stone blocks disappeared after a quarter of a mile. Towards the top of the gorge, some of the land had been terraced and various crops planted in the sandy soil. For a moment Cassius thought they were being watched until he realised the observer was in fact a scarecrow.