The Emperor's Silver: Agent of Rome 5 (27 page)

As his right hand grabbed the ladder, his legs swung into it. The jolt of his full weight dragged his fingers off the rope but his leg had gone between two slats. He yelped as his tender groin took the impact but the pain from his left hand immediately reclaimed his attention.

‘You obstinate bastard.’

The moment during which Greyboy disappeared gave Indavara hope. Unfortunately, the Syrian reappeared quickly, now holding his knife. He squatted at the edge of the platform, grabbed one of the vertical ropes and began sawing through it.

One dizzying look at the sparkling water was all Indavara needed. He gripped the next rung and hauled himself up.

Cassius was moving so fast that he only just managed to stop before reaching a treacherous patch of rocks carpeted with slimy green weed. He looked up to see Indavara climbing the rope ladder. Then he saw what the Syrian was doing.

‘Gods.’

Now he was at ground level, the height looked even worse. If Indavara fell, he would either die or suffer catastrophic injury. And all for some bloody suspect they didn’t really need and who might not even know anything.

‘Not like this. Please.’

The two fishermen were still standing in the middle of the river, holding their rods, watching. Their boat was roped to a rock only a few yards from Cassius.

Indavara was almost close enough to make a grab for the edge when Greyboy severed one side of the ladder.

‘Ha.’

Just as he sliced into the second rope, something hit the support and fell past Indavara. Greyboy stopped, then ducked. Only when a second object struck the platform – narrowly missing the Syrian – did Indavara realise they were arrows. He looked to his right and saw Cosmas drawing again.

He heard a curse from above, then fleeing footsteps.

‘Nice one, Cosmas.’ Indavara steadied himself and was about to pull himself up when he spied the remaining rope. It had partially unravelled, and was now held in place only by a few threads.

He didn’t dare move.

‘Sweet Fortuna, please help me.’

The rope continued to unravel.

The fishermen were so entranced by the figure dangling above that Cassius was struggling to get their attention.

‘Understand?’ he said in Greek.

Finally, the pair dragged their eyes away and saw what he was holding.

‘Is that mine?’ asked one of them.

‘Yes.’

‘Understand what I want to do?’

The men nodded and each took hold of the circular fishing net.

Cassius looked up. The small figure seemed impossibly far away. There had to be a reason why he wasn’t climbing back up.

‘Indavara!’

He couldn’t take his eyes off the rope. Though he was trying desperately not to move, the threads were still coming apart. He didn’t have long.

Indavara looked down, past the wavering end of the ladder, to the river far below. One of the tiny figures waved. Corbulo’s voice echoed along the gorge and up to him.

‘If you fall we can catch you!’

Catch me? What is that? Is that a—

Falling.

Air rushed past him, rippling his hair and tunic. He could feel the ladder wrapping itself around his arms. The aqueduct seemed to be flying up, up and away.

‘Pull it tight!’ yelled Cassius just as Indavara thumped into the middle of the net.

The impact pulled one of the fisherman off his feet and he landed not far from the bodyguard, who was already thrashing about and trying to stand up. It took him a moment to realise he was sitting in two feet of water.

‘Thank the gods,’ said Cassius, who felt as if he’d just run a marathon.

Indavara sat there panting, hair over his eyes, arms now tangled in both the ladder and the net.

The fisherman stood up and clapped him on the shoulder. The other man looked on, mouth hanging open.

Hearing boots splashing through the water, Cassius turned to see Simo and Cosmas running towards them. Simo stopped and stared first at Indavara, then up at the aqueduct. Cosmas – still holding the bow and quiver – grinned.

Cassius walked across the net and offered a hand. ‘You going to get up, then, or shall we take you to market as catch of the day?’

‘Catch of the day?’ said Cosmas. ‘More like catch of the century.’

The headquarters of the magistrate’s men was a converted townhouse just behind the basilica. Cassius, Indavara and Simo had been admitted via a side gate to avoid being seen with the sergeants and their captive. The headquarters was equipped with a small aid post, which Indavara used to dry off. Once Simo returned with a fresh tunic, he changed and drank the wine that had been brought for him by Cantaber, the youngest of the four sergeants.

While Simo examined the red, swollen fingers of Indavara’s left hand, Cantaber looked on. ‘Can’t believe I missed what happened at the bridge. You’re a lucky man.’

Indavara reached down to his belt, checking his Fortuna was there for at least the fifth time since the aqueduct.

‘I know it. How’s he doing?’ Indavara glanced at Gessius, the man Knuckles had knocked out of the cart. A surgeon had been summoned and was talking to the sergeant. Simo had already cleaned and bandaged his wounded head.

‘He’s all right,’ said the Gaul. ‘You too. Nothing broken anyway. Better keep this on to reduce the swelling, though.’ Simo gave him the small goatskin pouch he had filled with cold water; a technique gleaned from one of his medical manuals.

‘At least it’s my left,’ said Indavara morosely. He turned to Cantaber again. ‘Do you know how they’re getting on with Knuckles?’

‘I need a drink.’ Cassius leaned against the wall outside the interrogation room. Opposite him, Cosmas looked thoughtfully at the black and white floor tiles.

They had been questioning the younger Gorgos brother for an hour. Whatever he was mixed up in, the Syrian was giving nothing away. He claimed that he and his brother did odd jobs for various people: labouring, construction, deliveries. Nothing outside the law, of course – he and his brother had turned over a new leaf. As for why Greyboy had fled? He was terrified of captivity. Their connection with Hagnon – the suspect character with all the ships and carts? Just did a bit of day work for him. And the mysterious Egyptian? Knuckles had no idea who they were talking about.

‘There’s no way of hurrying up the process?’ asked Cassius. For striking Cantaber, Knuckles could be charged with assault of an officer of the law; an offence which would earn him some form of physical punishment or another term of hard labour.

‘It will be several weeks before he attends court.’

‘What about a special arrangement? In return for information we can put in a good word. Such things are done.’

‘Yes, sir, they are. But again that will take time. Deputy Diadromes would have to consult the judicial prefect. And he will still be busy with those arrested during the protests.’

Cassius had seen some of these men; they were being kept in the building’s holding cell.

‘This man is a known criminal,’ added Cosmas. ‘A few friends in the city but no one who would care enough to trouble the courts. Might be time to apply a little more pressure.’

‘You mean of the non-verbal variety?’

‘He already has some bruises. No one will notice a few more.’

Cassius felt rather disturbed by the prospect of ordering such a thing but he doubted his conscience would trouble him for long; the Gorgos brothers had done plenty of damage themselves.

Cosmas said, ‘You wouldn’t have to be anywhere near it.’ He gave a sheepish half-grin. ‘I am rather small for such work but Arius and Cantaber can be quite effective when they need to be.’

Cassius wasn’t convinced the sergeants would be quite ‘effective’ enough to worry the hulking Knuckles. He pushed himself off the wall. ‘I think I know someone even better suited to such a role.’