The Emperor's Silver: Agent of Rome 5

by Nick Brown

  His compatriots chuckled.

  ‘Actually there are thirteen of you,’ said Cassius. ‘And when I describe this incident I will replace “actors” with “suspects” and include the following description.’

  Cassius kept his eyes on the leader as he recited what he had observed of the men, starting with Indavara’s friend to the left. ‘Suspect number one: height five feet, six inches, stocky build, wearing a pale brown tunic with a spear-symbol belt-buckle. Suspect number two: height five feet, eight inches, slim build, red tunic, trident tattoo on right calf. Suspect number three’ – this was the leader himself – ‘height five feet, eleven inches, slim build, brass ring on right hand, pale blue tunic, iron belt-buckle, a trace of the Roman slums in his accent. Demeanour: unpleasant.’

  Two of the men had already sloped away. ‘Come on, Ravilla.’

  Cassius smiled. ‘And name: Ravilla.’

  Indavara laughed.

  The leader threw a glare at his indiscreet associate. All the others were now on the move.

  ‘Our day will come,’ he said, making sure his mask still covered his face as he left.

  ‘Not today,’ said Cassius.

  ‘Move along!’ shouted Arpagius at the crowd, which was already breaking up.

  Cassius and Cosmas walked across the street to Norbanus Celer. His wife was wiping her eyes, still watching the ‘actors’. The younger of the two boys was snivelling; the older lad was offering his mother a handkerchief.

  ‘My thanks,’ said Celer, straightening up and trying to regain his composure.

  Cosmas said, ‘Sir, with respect, I’m not sure you and your family should be out on the streets at the moment. Tensions are running rather high.’

  ‘So now I cannot visit the temple? I must skulk around as if I have done something wrong?’

  ‘Those men will be dealt with, sir.’

  ‘They damn well better be. I will be writing to Pomponianus immediately. The nerve of these gutter rats.’

  ‘Perhaps if you paid your workers a little more.’

  Cassius hadn’t realised Indavara had joined them. When he caught his eye, the bodyguard simply shrugged.

  Celer gritted his teeth. ‘And who in Hades are you to tell a councillor of Berytus his business?’

  ‘My bodyguard,’ explained Cassius hastily. ‘Please ignore him. Now, I suggest we escort you to a safe place immediately. Where is close?’

  The young wife tugged on her husband’s toga and whispered something.

  Celer nodded. ‘My uncle’s townhouse is nearby. Let me be clear – I want those ruffians in chains by the end of the day.’

  ‘We will do what we can, sir,’ said Cosmas. ‘Come now.’

  Simo and Arpagius had helped the bodyguard to his feet and the wife had finally managed to prise the frightened boy off her leg. As they set off along the street, Cassius dropped back to walk alongside Indavara.

  ‘Was that really necessary?’

  ‘Is anyone else going to say it to him? Certainly not you.’

  The lizard scampered ahead of the deputy magistrate and disappeared into a crack in the ground.

  ‘At this rate, Officer, I shall have to ask Pomponianus to offer you a job.’ Diadromes – arriving his customary half-hour late – strode up to Cassius and shook his forearm. The trio were waiting for him outside the sergeants’ headquarters; a quiet spot where Cosmas had assured them they would not be disturbed. The sergeant was currently off dealing with both the Celer incident and the Gorgos investigation.

  ‘Not an entirely unappealing prospect,’ said Cassius.

  ‘What about you, Indavara?’ said Diadromes. ‘I heard you helped your master put these thugs right.’

  Again, the bodyguard shrugged.

  ‘Anyway,’ said Diadromes, joining Cassius in the shade. ‘Cosmas tells me you have an idea.’

  ‘Indeed. I can see no efficient way of searching premises that might be of interest to us without arousing suspicion and alerting this gang. But I may have a way of forcing them to break cover without knowing they are our real targets. That’s if they are here, of course.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘You will be aware that there’s been a lot of talk about Egyptian spies heading north to track the Emperor’s forces.’

  Diadromes scratched his bald spot as Cassius continued.

  ‘What if you’d had word that one of these spies was masquerading as a metalworker here in Berytus? Might you not order your men to search the premises where such an individual could be working?’

  ‘I might. And while they are there, my sergeants could also have a nose around, perhaps make a few arrests too?’

  ‘Which might yield something of use; but the real aim is to flush out our quarry. If the raids could be carried out early and simultaneously, the gang might have no choice but to quickly shift the coins and equipment, possibly out of the city.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘Which probably means the docks or one of the three gates. Cosmas tells me there is no other easy method for carts to come and go. With all the sergeants busy looking for this imaginary spy, the gates could be left guarded by only a token force, perhaps just a few legionaries. We could even leave one – let’s say the eastern gate because it provides access to most other routes – guarded by only two; neither of them in fact local soldiers.’ Cassius gestured to himself and Indavara.

  ‘Ah. Yes, I see. A lot of manpower would be needed for the inspections. And I would have to obtain clearance from the magistrate, of course.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘He may not allow it. His primary concern is public order – incidents like today’s cannot be allowed.’

  ‘You will talk to him on my behalf, though?’ Considering what he had done for Diadromes in the last few days, Cassius wasn’t about to accept no for an answer. ‘Forgive me, but it might also be worth mentioning that capturing these people is very much in the magistrate’s interest. Marshal Marcellinus, Minister Sabinus and indeed the Emperor himself will be extremely grateful if we can put a stop to this counterfeiting.’

  ‘Understood, but if I am yet to be convinced that the gang is really here, Magistrate Pomponianus is almost certain that it is not.’

  ‘If we find nothing and make no further progress, at least the investigation might move on – away from Berytus. This outcome would also appeal to the magistrate, I imagine.’

  ‘You make some forceful arguments, Officer Crispian.’

  ‘I am dependent on your help, Deputy Magistrate, and time is very much of the essence.’

  ‘If we are able to go ahead – what about the day after tomorrow?’

  ‘That sounds fine.’

  ‘Exactly which premises need to be inspected?’

  ‘Anything with ovens or a full foundry. Two sergeants will be sufficient to carry out each check. Cosmas could then question them about anything suspicious without giving away the true reason for the search; it would be inadvisable for so many of the men to know where our real interest lies.’

  ‘Agreed. What if the gang do clear out via the port? It’s July – we have vessels coming and going all day.’

  ‘We don’t have the manpower to watch the docks and all the ships but I think if they do move out, it would be temporary. The gates are our best bet.’

  ‘I shall consult with the magistrate and get an answer to you by tomorrow. Cosmas can handle the details.’

  ‘Excellent. I thank you for your help.’

  Diadromes came a little closer. ‘If I am able to secure this assistance, it would seem clear that each of us will have fulfilled our debt to each other. Do you agree, Officer Crispian?’

  ‘I do.’

  Diadromes summoned Cosmas for a brief discussion about the plan then left. The usually cool sergeant seemed rather flustered; apparently the Gorgos investigation was progressing swiftly and though there had been no sightings of Greyboy, more arrests were imminent.

  The outraged Norbanus Celer, meanwhile, had already com
municated with Magistrate Pomponianus and now sergeants and legionaries were out on the streets hunting Ravilla and his band of ‘actors’.

  Cosmas escorted Cassius and the others to the rear of the headquarters and opened the gate.

  ‘You there!’ demanded a loud voice.

  A tall grey horse was trotting up the street, ridden by a centurion in full uniform complete with scarlet cloak and crested helmet. Behind him were two legionaries on horses several hands shorter.

  ‘Chief Centurion Nemetorius,’ whispered Cosmas before hurrying over to the officer.

  ‘Good day, sir.’

  ‘This criminal who assaulted Master Celer – apparently some of your sergeants have found him. The magistrate has asked me to take personal charge.’

  ‘Yes, Centurion.’

  ‘They will bring him here, won’t they?’

  ‘They will, sir, yes.’

  To Cassius, Nemetorius seemed like a man very keen to be regarded as a member of the city’s elite. He certainly looked the part, what with the circular gold clasp for his cloak and the sleek horse, but there was a rather coarse edge to him, detectable not only in his voice.

  ‘I shall wait,’ he announced.

  The two legionaries dismounted. One of them passed his reins to the other and ran over to steady Nemetorius’ horse while his superior descended. Once on the pavement, the centurion removed his helmet. Though his face was craggy and lined, his hair was thick and (suspiciously) dark.

  Without a single glance at Cassius or the other two, Nemetorius took a flask from the side of his saddle, removed the stopper and drank. ‘Hope they won’t be long.’

  ‘Not sure, sir,’ said Cosmas. ‘I wasn’t even aware he’d been apprehended.’

  Nemetorius snorted, turned to his men and aimed a dismissive thumb over his shoulder. ‘This lot.’

  Cassius walked over to Cosmas. ‘We’ll be going.’

  Cosmas matched his hushed tone. ‘Sir, we will need the centurion’s cooperation for the operation at the gates – especially if you two are to masquerade as legionaries. Diadromes will be contacting him of course but it might be wise to introduce yourself.’

  Cassius didn’t particularly relish the prospect but the sergeant was right; if not for the need for secrecy, he would have already presented himself to the city’s senior military commander.

  ‘Very well.’ He pointed at his satchel, which Simo passed to him. Sticking out of one end was the spearhead.

  Nemetorius had handed his helmet to the legionary watching his horse and was brushing something off his cloak. He looked up as Cosmas and Cassius approached.

  ‘Centurion, this is Officer Crispian.’

  Cassius offered his forearm. ‘Imperial Security.’

  Nemetorius waited a long time to reach out and greet him, which he did with unnecessary – but not unexpected – force. ‘A grain man in Berytus, eh? I was not informed.’

  ‘Apologies for not coming to see you sooner. I am working on a covert investigation for Marshal Marcellinus involving a counterfeiting gang. We believe they may be operating within the city.’

  As Cosmas withdrew, Cassius pulled aside the top of his satchel so that the centurion could see the spearhead.

  Nemetorius didn’t seem interested. ‘So how long have you been creeping around the city without my knowledge?’

  Cassius decided not to use ‘sir’. Technically, Nemetorius did outrank him, but the older man wasn’t working directly on behalf of the Emperor’s deputy. Also, Cassius didn’t want to immediately give ground; he seemed like the type who would exploit it.

  ‘Several days.’

  A smile played across Nemetorius’ face as he examined Cassius’s outfit. ‘What are you supposed to be?’

  ‘A merchant. I do not wish to advertise my presence here.’

  ‘Clearly. So I presume that you now need something from me?’

  ‘I’m afraid so.’

  Cassius briefly outlined the plan. ‘I myself would like to pose as one of your officers and man the east gate.’

  Nemetorius had been looking up at the cloudless sky while Cassius spoke. ‘Counterfeiters in Berytus? I don’t see it.’ Now he stared at the younger man. ‘Sure this isn’t all an elaborate ruse so that you can pretend to be a real soldier for a day?’

  Cassius held the gaze of the dark-eyed centurion, though it was not easy. ‘I can assure you that Marshal Marcellinus and my superior Aulus Celatus Abascantius do not consider this a laughing matter.’

  ‘Pitface, eh? I should have known you were one of his.’

  Cassius was surprised at how he bristled at the insult. Had he not been dependent on the centurion’s cooperation he might have reminded him of his place in the grand scheme of things. That was always the trouble with the leaders of these provincial cities – they forgot there was a world beyond their walls.

  ‘I imagine Diadromes will communicate with you later. I simply thought it polite to introduce myself.’

  ‘Play your games if you wish. But remember that the collection of tax at that gate is the army’s responsibility. If the numbers don’t add up at the end of the day, you will have me to deal with.’

  Cassius wanted to end the conversation as rapidly as he could. ‘If we do make any progress, and I remain here in Berytus, I may have to ask for your help again – a few men perhaps.’

  They both knew that – armed with the spearhead – he was perfectly entitled to requisition any troops he needed; but Cassius doubted Nemetorius would make it that easy.

  The chief centurion raised his chin, and again chose not to look at his fellow officer. ‘To be frank, I have more urgent matters to concern me – law and order for one.’ He pointed across the street at four city sergeants who were escorting a captive towards the headquarters. ‘But if Marcellinus himself needs my assistance, I shall of course provide it.’

  Nemetorius took his helmet from the legionary and put it on. ‘Cosmas there knows how to contact me. What was the name again, grain man?’

  ‘Officer Crispian.’

  ‘Officer. Never understood that rank. Not really a proper title at all, is it?’

  Nemetorius walked back to his horse and retrieved his whip, then set off across the road. Cassius returned to the others and looked on.

  ‘This him?’ asked Nemetorius.

  The four sergeants seemed almost as taken aback by the sight of the advancing centurion as their prisoner.

  ‘Yes, sir,’ said one. ‘Sestius Ravilla. He’s a weaver.’

  ‘Of course he is.’ Nemetorius seemed oblivious to other road-users who had also stopped to see what was going on. ‘Put him on his knees.’

  ‘Is that him?’ asked Indavara.

  ‘Right build,’ said Cassius. ‘Yes, see the colour of the tunic. The dolt didn’t even get changed.’

  Nemetorius raised the whip back over his left shoulder and bellowed. ‘Throw stones at a gentleman and his wife and children, would you? A friend of the magistrate’s? A friend of mine?’

  Ravilla knew what was coming. His hands were bound behind him so all he could do was dig his chin into his chest and close his eyes. Nemetorius cracked the whip across his head, then brought it straight back across his cheek. One of the sergeants winced and a woman cried out. Nemetorius stood over the weaver, crest ruffled by a breeze, tapping the whip on the ground, watching as blood dripped from torn skin on to the flagstones.

  Indavara took a step towards the street.

  Cassius put an arm out in front of him. ‘Don’t even think about it. Not our concern.’

  Nemetorius circled around behind Ravilla and dragged him up by the rope, then led him across the street. ‘Come now, master weaver, and we will see what you can tell us about your stone-throwing compatriots.’

  Nemetorius handed the rope to his nearest man. Ravilla was trying to blink away the blood seeping down into his eyes.

  Cassius approached Nemetorius. ‘Centurion, we were there. I can give you details of the other men.’

/>   ‘I have what I need.’ Still holding the whip, Nemetorius mounted up and rode off, scattering onlookers.

  Cassius handed his satchel back to Simo.

  ‘What a prick,’ said Indavara.

  ‘You’ll get no argument from me.’

  XXI

  She is wearing only metal: a thin chain at her neck and a thick one around her waist. The candlelight pools on her dark, smooth skin as she crosses the room. She pulls the ribbon from her hair, black tresses falling over her shoulders. She eases herself on to the bed and slides on to him, nipples hard against his chest. She kisses his neck then whispers to him.

  ‘What do you want this night?’

  ‘Master Cassius, Master Cassius.’

  ‘What?’ he snapped, rolling on to his side.

  ‘A letter from Tripolis has arrived, sir. Also a note from Master Diadromes.’

  Cassius yawned and stretched, irritated to be woken from such a delightful dream. In fact, it was more memory than dream. He thought often of Delkash. Surely the Persian bar girl was the only possible reason he might ever return to Bostra.

  ‘What’s the hour?’ he asked as he got off the bed.

  ‘Third, sir,’ came the reply from downstairs.

  He had told Simo to let him sleep. The factory inspections would go ahead the following day and he planned to remain at the tower; there was no sense taking unnecessary risks or getting mixed up in another incident like yesterday’s.

  Cassius pulled a tunic on over his head and glanced at his little shrine, where a candle and a libation now sat in front of the great gods. He’d spent almost half an hour at prayer the previous night. Some of his appeals to Jupiter had involved the investigation; most had concerned his survival. He opened the door and negotiated the stairs slowly, still half asleep.

  ‘Good morning, Master Cassius.’ Simo was already pouring him some milk. ‘Fresh today. I’ve found a wonderful little farm shop just up the road. Some lovely rolls too – that’s if Indavara hasn’t eaten them all already.’

  ‘Where is he?’

  ‘Gone for a run.’