Agent of Rome: The Imperial Banner (The Agent of Rome)

by Nick Brown

  No translation was needed this time. The old man pointed down the road, towards the other mines.

  ‘Another salubrious locale,’ Cassius remarked as he laid out a blanket at one end of the shack.

  Indavara was sitting opposite him, sharpening his dagger with a flint. Behind him was a pile of rusting mining implements. Simo was outside, preparing dinner.

  ‘Truly a treat to work for old Abascantius, isn’t it?’ Cassius added as he lay down.

  Indavara didn’t reply.

  ‘Bodyguard, I spoke to you. Perhaps you could do me the courtesy of responding.’

  ‘What? Oh, I don’t care that much. I like being outside. All the open space.’

  ‘I must say I was surprised you’d not heard of Mercury’s Heaps; and I’ve not once seen you pray or make an offering since we met. Who are your gods?’

  ‘I have only one.’

  ‘You’re a Christian? A Jew?’

  Indavara shook his head, as if the words meant nothing to him.

  ‘How unusual,’ Cassius continued. ‘Who is this single god?’

  ‘Fortuna.’

  Cassius laughed. ‘Everyone prays to Fortuna. That’s a given. There must be some others.’

  Indavara looked hard at the dagger as he whipped the flint along the blade.

  ‘All right then,’ said Cassius. ‘Why just Fortuna?’

  Indavara pulled out the figurine and showed it to Cassius but said nothing.

  ‘It’s a bit on the small side; if Fortuna’s the only god you pray to, you might want to show her a bit more respect.’

  Indavara contemplated this.

  ‘You weren’t allowed many possessions, I suppose.’

  ‘A woman threw it to me after a fight.’

  Cassius propped himself up on one elbow. ‘Ah yes – the women. They love you fighters, don’t they? All that bare flesh and blood-letting. I’ve heard the more forward of them go to the cells late at night. You had your share of visitors, I expect.’

  Indavara looked at the ground.

  Cassius chuckled. ‘Relax. I’ll not press you for details.’

  Indavara carefully returned the figurine to its place behind his belt and went back to work with the flint.

  ‘What about your people’s gods? After all you must have been through, you’ve never asked them for help?’

  Again receiving no reply, Cassius came to his own conclusion.

  ‘You felt that they’d forsaken you, perhaps. Given you up.’

  Indavara stopped sharpening the knife for a moment and thought about this. Then he nodded.

  Cassius decided they could do without a sentry – that it would be better for them all to get a good night’s sleep. Indavara reluctantly agreed but insisted on placing several empty bottles at strategic locations around the shack.

  The ‘mad miner’ – as he was now known – had calmed down considerably when Simo had given him some food; and had even come over to bid them goodnight.

  They lay in a triangle around some stones Simo had heated in the fire, Indavara closest to the door. Cassius observed how he kept his right arm outside his blanket, two fingers resting on the handle of his dagger.

  ‘So, tomorrow,’ he said. ‘We need to check every mine on this road. If we see anyone, we stick to the story and go on our way. I’ll take note of the location and if need be we’ll return with legionaries from Chalcis. If not, we go inside and look for any possible trace of our prey. We’ll leave at dawn, and make sure we’re somewhere safe before nightfall. Clear?’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ replied Simo.

  Indavara’s only answer was a guttural snore.

  ‘By Mars,’ said Cassius. ‘Just like a dog. When he’s not eating, he’s sleeping.’

  XVI

  They found nothing at the second and third mines. Cassius had expected to be rather more impressed but they were little more than holes in the ground surrounded by piles of sand, earth, rubble and rock. One shaft had been blocked off by criss-crossing timbers, another had caved in just a few yards beyond the entrance.

  Halfway along the track that led to the fourth mine they came across a sign lying in the sand. There were two words upon it, etched in white paint: Great Mine. And when they reached the shaft itself, they saw the name was well deserved. It was the largest they’d seen so far, rectangular in shape and cut down into the earth at a shallow angle. Beyond the shaft was a huge mound of spoil that formed two great arms, also enclosing the road and two stone buildings, one of which had collapsed.

  Once off their horses and sure they were alone, Indavara went to check the intact building while Cassius examined the ground in front of the mine. There were signs of activity but the rain had obscured anything so obvious as a footprint or wheel mark. There were, however, scattered streaks and patches of white. Cassius scraped up some of the familiar white dust with his dagger.

  ‘Quicklime, sir?’

  Cassius sniffed it and nodded. ‘Tie up the horses. And prepare a torch.’

  He walked down the short, sloping path that led to the mine. Outside the dark mouth were a stack of buckets and a pile of pick handles. It was impossible to see more than four or five yards inside but Cassius walked forward nonetheless – straight into a cobweb. As he pulled the wispy strands from his face, he felt the chilly breath of some subterranean breeze. The air smelled earthy, old. Cassius had never been in a mine before.

  He walked back up the slope and met Indavara.

  ‘Nothing,’ said the bodyguard. ‘Just an empty hut.’

  Cassius pointed back at the mouth of the mine. ‘This looks rather more interesting. Must be six yards across, three high.’

  ‘More than enough for a big cart.’

  ‘Exactly what I was thinking.’

  It took Simo a frustratingly long time to get the fire going. He blamed damp char-cloth but Cassius was cursing him by the time he finally wrapped an oiled goat-skin round one of the pick handles and set light to it.

  ‘You keep watch out here, Simo,’ Cassius said as the three of them stood in front of the shaft. ‘Indavara, you’re with me.’

  The bodyguard didn’t answer. He was gazing wide-eyed into the gloom.

  ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘I’ve never been in somewhere like this.’

  ‘Neither have I,’ replied Cassius as he took the torch from Simo. ‘And I don’t know what we’re going to find down there, so I need you with me. Draw your sword.’

  ‘What about the spirits?’

  ‘If you’re so worried about spirits, best utter a prayer to your precious Fortuna.’

  Sighing, Indavara drew his blade.

  ‘Perhaps you’ll need your cape, sir,’ suggested Simo.

  ‘We shan’t be in there long enough for me to get cold.’

  ‘These mines can run for miles, sir. And how will you find your way?’

  ‘If the men we’re after used this place, they had no reason to venture far from the main tunnel. Get the horses out of sight and watch the road. If anyone approaches, call down to us right away.’

  ‘Yes, sir. Do be careful.’

  Simo hurried away up the slope.

  ‘Have you said your prayer?’ Cassius asked.

  Indavara shook his head.

  Cassius was all set to ignore him and get going, but he wondered if a few words for Fortuna weren’t such a bad idea. Epona had looked after the horses after all; and he might face numerous dangers in the coming days and weeks. He’d never been much of a worshipper, but life had been easier before: safer, more predictable. Things were different now. It certainly couldn’t hurt.

  ‘Allow me.’ He clasped his hands, closed his eyes and began: ‘Great Fortuna, goddess most high, we two humble travellers ask you to watch over us as we set forth into this dark place. We ask you to remember our offerings and prayers and we pledge to show our love for you when next we can. This man worships only you, so sacred are you to him. Our occupation is a noble one; we are engaged in a task that might keep pea
ce in this land. Please grant us your favour, great goddess. Please grant us your favour.’

  Cassius opened his eyes. Indavara’s were still shut. Cassius tapped him on the shoulder.

  ‘You should repeat that last bit.’

  Indavara did so.

  After only a few steps into the mine they spied the cart-tracks. Cassius paced out the distance.

  ‘Eight and a half feet. This really might be it. Come on.’

  The torch crackled as they strode into the darkness, and soon its glow caught the smoky wreaths of their cold breath. Cassius moved the light around, sometimes keeping it low so he could examine the ground, sometimes raising it high to check the roof.

  He stopped and glanced back at the entrance. They were only a hundred feet inside but it already looked alarmingly small.

  ‘What is it?’ asked Indavara.

  ‘Nothing. I just thought there would be tunnels or turns by now. On we go.’

  Cassius hunched over, eyes fixed on the left-hand wheel mark. Occasionally, he would stop to check the walls but he found only niches for long-removed lamps. Indavara stayed a couple of paces behind him.

  The wheel mark suddenly veered to the right. Cassius veered with it.

  ‘Odd.’

  Thoughts of why the track might suddenly change direction – and that he was perhaps walking too quickly – struck him just as his left foot slid down the lip of a vertical shaft.

  ‘Gods!’

  His foot gave way and he fell. His right leg, however, buckled under him and he landed on his knee, left boot still dangling in the air. Indavara grabbed his belt and pulled him away.

  The torch fell to the ground and sizzled on the damp soil. As the flames flickered, Cassius snatched it up. Indavara knelt beside him.

  ‘All right?’

  ‘Yes. Just. Thank you.’

  Cassius held the torch over the lip of the shaft.

  ‘That was close. I thought the tunnels would go off to the side, not straight down.’

  He stood up and walked carefully around the shaft. It was six feet wide and flush against the left wall. There were small handholds cut into the earth, and the remains of a rope.

  ‘Right. Slower this time.’

  Fifty feet further in, the tunnel divided. The main path continued downward at an even steeper angle while a second, narrower shaft bent away to the right. Cassius now realised that he was in fact following two sets of wheel marks, and both led along the smaller tunnel.

  ‘They came in and out again,’ he whispered to himself.

  With a last look at the entrance, they continued round the bend, Cassius’s gaze still trained on the ground. The lower and further they went, the softer and wetter the soil became, and the more obvious the wheel and foot marks; and as the tunnel widened out into a cavern, the ground became a muddy bog.

  ‘Stay still a moment,’ Cassius told Indavara, before twice traversing the twenty-foot width of the cavern. ‘They may have been covered by the footprints but I see no more wheel marks beyond this point. I think they stopped here.’

  ‘Look.’

  Indavara pointed to the tunnel wall behind Cassius. There was a torch there, placed in an iron frame fixed to the wall. Cassius examined it.

  ‘Used fairly recently, I’d say.’

  They found six more of the mounted torches, and were able to light four of them. Indavara sheathed his sword and took one. The light seemed to bounce around the cavern; they could see the space quite clearly. Further on, it narrowed to a tunnel once more but before this were two small caves, one on either side.

  They checked the left side first. Inside was a big wooden table with one broken leg resting on a slab of rock. There were chairs, stools and a chest too; plus some iron-framed buckets and two barrels full of green, putrid water. Indavara pulled open the lid of the chest. The rotten wood disintegrated and spilled the chest’s contents – thick coils of hemp rope. Cassius knelt by the chairs, examining the area beneath the table.

  ‘They sat here. Counting their treasure perhaps.’

  ‘So that’s what was in the barrels,’ said Indavara.

  ‘Among other things, yes. Doesn’t look like they left anything behind.’

  ‘They left this.’

  Indavara pushed his sword tip into the muddy ground and levered out a brass coin. Cassius picked it up and scraped off the mud on the edge of the table. Before he had finished, Indavara found two more. They were all the same design; identical to the one from the Palmyran temple.

  ‘Careless,’ said Cassius. ‘Very careless.’

  ‘Perhaps they thought they had nothing to worry about; that no one could follow them this far.’

  ‘Possibly. But all we’ve done will be for naught if we find nothing more here. Those cart-tracks vanish outside. We must keep looking.’

  They found nothing else in the first cave. The second contained more buckets, a pile of rotting leather hides and a voluminous barrel of quicklime. They took half the chamber each, and examined the ground, the walls, even the roof; but there was nothing more to help them. The goat-skin on Cassius’s torch had almost burned through so he swapped it with another from the cavern.

  ‘This way.’

  Cassius had to bow his head as they pressed on down the narrowing tunnel. With the additional light of the two bright torches, they were at least able to see further and walk quicker; and before long the light from the cavern was no more than a dim glow behind them. The walls were more rock than soil now; and the temperature had dropped dramatically.

  Indavara stopped.

  ‘What is it?’ asked Cassius.

  ‘I thought I heard something.’

  ‘You’re imagining it. All I can hear is my teeth chattering. Let’s keep moving.’

  ‘What if it was the spirits?’

  ‘Calm yourself, bodyguard. We’ve not seen anything yet, have we?’

  ‘I can feel them though.Their breath on my skin.’

  ‘It’s cold air, that’s all.’

  ‘Perhaps they’re displeased. Perhaps they don’t want us here.’

  ‘Then we should stop dawdling.’

  Cassius had counted forty paces more when they came upon a kind of crossroads, where a wider, perpendicular tunnel crossed the other.

  ‘We’ll take a side each. You to the left. Careful, there may be vertical shafts here too.’

  This hunch was soon proved correct; Cassius came across one after just a few yards.

  ‘Here’s one already.’

  ‘Here too,’ answered Indavara.

  Cassius was curious about how deep the shaft was, so he slid one of the burning branches out of the torch and dropped it. It fell so far that he couldn’t tell whether it had hit the bottom or the flame had simply gone out.

  ‘Indavara, watch yourself. They’re very deep.’

  ‘This one’s not. I think there’s something down here.’

  Cassius hurried over to him. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘The smell. Like before.’

  Cassius knelt down next to him. The bodyguard was right. The smell of rotting flesh. Horribly, unmistakably human.

  Cassius drew out another burning stick from his torch and threw it into the middle of the shaft. It landed about five yards down, on what looked like solid ground. They saw only soil before the flames went out. Cassius then took out a clump of branches and he made sure the whole bundle was well alight before dropping it. The bundle seemed to bounce off something before hitting the ground.

  ‘Oh, gods. Look there – you see it?’

  ‘A foot,’ answered Indavara.

  They were even able to make out toes before the flame died. Cassius sat down on his backside.

  ‘By Mars. Another horror. I tell you, I’m not cut out for this job.’

  ‘What now?’

  ‘One of us will have to go down there. We’ll need that rope from the cavern.’

  ‘Not me. If the spirits are anywhere, there’ll be down there.’

  ‘
What happened to “there’s nothing to fear from a dead man”? That’s what you said at the water channel.’

  Indavara jabbed his torch towards the roof. ‘That was up there. In the light.’ He shook his head. ‘I’ll not do it.’

  ‘For a hired man, you seem very definite about what you will or won’t do. Isn’t it the case that you should do whatever I tell you?’

  ‘I’m not your manservant, or your slave. I get paid to protect you. No one said anything about this.’

  Cassius looked down into the darkness. They had come so far. He couldn’t falter now.

  ‘All right then, will you at least fetch the rope?’

  Cassius would have preferred to anchor the line to something solid but Indavara was confident he could take the weight. The bodyguard tested the rope, tied one end around his waist and dropped the rest into the shaft. He then dug out two holes with his boot, wedged his feet into them and sat down.

  ‘Ready,’ he said, both hands on the rope. ‘You’ll have to leave that here,’ he added, nodding at Cassius’s torch. ‘I’ll throw it to you once you’re down.’

  Cassius rubbed his brow. ‘Gods, I need a drink.’

  Indavara had stuck his torch into the ground by the side of the tunnel. Cassius did the same. He got down on his knees, legs astride the rope, feet hanging over the lip of the shaft. Gripping the rope with both hands, he lowered one leg. The wall of the shaft was compacted soil, but yielded enough for him to get a hold. He let his arms take his weight. The rope slipped a couple of inches.

  ‘What are you doing?’ he yelled.

  ‘Just changing my grip. Go. You’re fine.’

  ‘Oh. Am I? Thanks.’

  Making sure his feet were secure every time he moved his hands, Cassius slowly descended. Indavara kept the rope remarkably steady, and didn’t even seem to be labouring. By the time Cassius’s head was below the lip of the shaft, there was smooth rock under his boots.

  As he continued downward, the combination of complete darkness and the ever worsening smell became almost overpowering. Thoughts flashed into his head of his fingers slipping and him falling into a pile of stinking, welcoming corpses. Gripping the rope hard, he stopped.