The Emperor's Silver: Agent of Rome 5 (24 page)

‘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 you 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.’

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.

As the slope began to level out, Cosmas and the cart halted just before a ninety-degree bend in the road. While the driver got down and steadied the horses, Cosmas gathered the others and walked back to Cassius.

‘Can your man stay and help with the mounts? I’d like to take four if I can.’

‘Certainly.’ Cassius waved Simo forward then dismounted and passed him his reins.

The sergeants’ clubs were not as long or thick as Indavara’s stave, but one end was reinforced by a bundle of thinner rods strapped together. For centuries a symbol of the magistrate’s power to punish, what they lacked in subtlety they made up for with impact. Indavara also had his sword, as did Cassius, who noticed a couple of the sergeants eyeing the eagle head. He had instructed Cosmas to tell them he was an undercover army officer, nothing more.

The Syrian sergeant was both the smallest and the oldest of the six. He carried no club, just a short sword even more basic and roughly cast than Indavara’s. Looped around his belt were some lengths of rope.

‘A hundred yards beyond the bend is their property – to the left. It’s their mother’s place. We can come in along their front wall. If they’re up and about, which I doubt, we’ll just go straight for them. If they’re inside, I’ll take the front door with Cantaber and Arius. Vespilo and Gessius, you come in the back.’