The Emperor's Silver: Agent of Rome 5 (28 page)

With his fingers now bandaged, Indavara listened carefully as Cassius explained what he needed. They were walking back to the interrogation room having left Simo in the aid post, assisting the surgeon as he stitched Cantaber’s cut.

‘Cosmas and the other sergeants are in there now. They haven’t touched him yet. It’s important to make a big entrance: I suggest a couple of smacks then see what you can get out of him. The initial shock won’t last long so make sure you ask the right questions. Remember, we are focusing on—’

‘Leave it to me,’ said Indavara as they reached the room.

Cassius watched him flex his shoulders and suck in some deep breaths. ‘Building yourself up, I suppose? Making yourself angry?’

‘Why would I need to
make
myself angry? The bastard’s brother tried to kill me.’ Indavara wrenched the door open and stalked inside.

Cassius hurried after him and shut it. Cosmas and the sergeants were standing opposite Knuckles. The seated captive had his bound hands resting on the table. His dismissive sneer vanished when he saw the new arrival.

‘Out the way,’ muttered Indavara, pushing Cosmas aside. With scant regard for his injured hand, he gripped the table (which was not small) and flung it sideways. Knuckles only just got out of the way as the table spun through the air and clattered into the wall. Indavara darted forward and swung his right boot.

As the stool flew away, Knuckles fell on to his side, heavy body slapping against the tiles. Eyes bulging, he watched as Indavara plucked Cosmas’s dagger from its sheath.

‘This won’t take long.’

Cassius wasn’t entirely sure what he was watching: reality or performance.

Knuckles tried to roll away but Indavara had already grabbed his tunic.

‘Don’t worry,’ he hissed into the larger man’s ear. ‘The blade’s for the rope. There’s no fun in beating a fellow with his hands bound. I’ll give you a chance.’

‘No, no, please. Leave them bound.’

‘What?’ Indavara squatted in front of him, knife inches from his face.

‘I – I – I’ll tell you everything.’

Indavara kept the knife where it was. ‘Everything?’

Knuckles nodded frantically, eyes almost crossing as they stared at the triangular tip of the blade. Indavara handed the dagger to a hesitant Cosmas, then helped the Syrian to his feet.

He had to reach up to tap his shoulder. ‘Knuckles, you disappoint me. Now, you’re going to have a nice long talk with these gentlemen and I’m going to get some grub. After chasing your bloody brother I’ve worked up quite an appetite so if I’m disturbed I’m going to take it out on you. So you answer all their questions, I’ll have a quiet lunch and everyone’s happy. Got it?’

The Syrian nodded, bottom lip quivering.

While the two sergeants retrieved the table, Indavara righted the stool and coaxed Knuckles down on to it. Cassius and Cosmas turned away from the captive and exchanged a grin.

The bodyguard was already through the door. ‘All yours.’

The eatery was almost full but the maid recognised Indavara and found them a good seat.

‘Nice, eh?’ he said, doing his best to ignore the rather unpleasant smell drifting out of the sewers on the edge of the forum.

Simo was looking out of a diamond-shaped window at the basilica. ‘Yes.’

‘I told him I was taking you with me. Relax.’

Indavara often thought his friend didn’t really know the meaning of the word. When he was with his master he was desperate to please; when he was away from him he seemed unable to just be himself for an hour or two.

The Gaul wiped away crumbs left by a previous customer. ‘I should not have stopped for those children.’

‘He’s all talk,’ said Indavara. ‘He’d never get rid of you. He needs you as much as he needs me. More, probably.’

‘I don’t think so.’

The maid brought them two mugs of the ‘half and half’ Indavara had ordered. ‘What are we eating, then, gentlemen?’

‘What’s fresh?’ asked Indavara.

‘Oysters and mussels have just come in.’

‘That sounds fine.’

‘Both?’

‘Yes, and some bread – bring that first, please.’ Indavara inspected Simo’s brow. ‘How’s the eye?’

‘Sore. Though I must again compliment you on the quality of your stitching.’ He peered at Indavara’s bandaged hand. ‘And that?’

‘It’s nothing. Lucky for me that the nastiest of the two Gorgos brothers is also the lightest.’

‘I think you enjoy it. All this running and jumping, chasing and fighting.’

‘Perhaps. Falling – not so much.’

‘Quick thinking from Master Cassius – with the net.’

‘He has his moments. The whole thing was my own stupid fault. Like Corbulo says, sometimes it’s better to just stop and think.’

The bread arrived; four small rolls in a wicker basket. Indavara had the first one in his mouth before the maid had let go. ‘Mmm. That is good. Crispy on the outside, soft in the middle.’

Simo was frowning, listening to something.

‘What is it?’

‘The music. Can you hear it?’

Somewhere within the hubbub outside was the noise of a flute.

‘It’s not—’

‘No,’ said Indavara. ‘Different tune.’

Simo listened for a while longer then agreed he was right. He took a roll for himself, eating one modest mouthful at a time. ‘Do you think Master Cassius will get anywhere with that letter to Pietas Julia?’

‘I don’t think so. I was told nobody knew anything about who I was or where I’d come from.’

Indavara didn’t usually like speaking about his previous life, and while Corbulo occasionally pressed him for details, Simo had learned not to ask. But today, he found he wanted to go on. ‘Someone said that I arrived at the arena in a caged cart with a load of others. Carts like that came in all the time. All slaves or condemned men.’

‘What about the journey?’ asked Simo. ‘Do you remember any of that, or where you started?’

‘Sometimes I think I can, but then I realise the memories are from other journeys since. I had taken a very bad blow to the head. Capito – he was the organiser of games – once told me I was drifting in and out and that he only took me because he got a good price and I looked strong. He gave the surgeon a week to revive me, which he did.’

‘How?’

‘Not sure exactly but I know he cleaned out the wound and restitched it. Waking with him looking down at me is the first thing I remember. His name was Asellio. He was the one who told me my name. The slavers had been given it by another man who’d been in the same cart but he was dead by the time I woke.’

‘Asellio – was he kind?’

‘No, but he knew his work. Two weeks later I was training; and Capito decided he would keep me.’

‘Did you have any friends?’

‘A fighter cannot have friends. I realised that soon enough.’

‘Because you might have to face them.’

Indavara nodded. ‘I suppose I had
one
.’ He took out the figurine from behind his belt.

‘Did you say a woman threw it to you?’

‘After my tenth fight. Mostly they threw coins but I was too tired to pick them up and I couldn’t spend them anyway.’ Indavara examined the figurine, the tiny features of the face. ‘I had to ask one of the trainers which goddess it was. When he told me I knew it had come to me for a reason.’

He looked across at Simo, noting the string around his neck; Corbulo made him keep the cross hidden.

‘You’ve only known the Faith, I suppose? Because of your father.’

‘Yes.’

Indavara glanced out of the window. ‘We’d better change the subject.’

‘Why?’

‘He’s coming.’

Corbulo was being escorted across the square by Cosmas, who came inside and thanked Indavara for his help with the interrogation before departing.

‘Let me guess,’ said Indavara as Corbulo sat beside Simo. ‘Gorgos told you about something, but not the counterfeiting.’

‘Precisely. How did you know?’

‘Because Cosmas was smiling and you’re not.’

‘Well, your persuasive approach certainly worked. He did tell us everything: about the smuggling operation he, his brother and this Egyptian are running. You name it, they’re bringing it in – best fortified wine hidden in cheap amphoras, luxury soap hidden in jars of fat. The list went on and on and on.’

‘But nothing about fake coins?’

‘Not a word.’

‘And you believe him?’

‘I do. Apart from the fact that you gave him the fright of his life, he is not bright enough to lie that convincingly. Cosmas is going to inform Diadromes now – at least we’ve done another favour for the magistrate.’

Corbulo took Simo’s mug and drank from it.

Indavara turned to him. ‘If I didn’t say so before, thank you. For what you did at the aqueduct.’

‘Think nothing of it. Just remember what I said about benefit versus risk. Girl!’ Corbulo grabbed the maid’s sleeve as she bustled past. ‘Bring a jug of wine and a mug for me.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Indavara could tell Corbulo was preoccupied: he didn’t give a second look at the maid, who was young and pretty. He dropped a fist on the table. ‘This damned investigation. Nothing but guesswork and dead ends. And I thought it was going to be easy.’

‘There’s time yet, sir.’

‘Not a lot, Simo. Not a lot.’

Back at the tower, a sheet of paper had been slipped under the door and its contents raised Cassius’s spirits a little. It was a list, at the bottom of which was a note from Diadromes. No one at the basilica had a reason to keep records on which concerns made use of bronze, but he knew a retired metal-smith who was able to compile the list from memory. The deputy magistrate couldn’t guarantee that it was completely up to date, but to Cassius it seemed fairly comprehensive.

He could have done with a trip to the baths but didn’t want to go out again, so he stripped down to his loincloth, lay on his bed and perused the list. The variety of industries and other outfits that dealt in bronze was remarkable: blacksmiths, metal-smiths, shipbuilders, cart-builders, window-makers, furniture-makers, lamp-makers, vessel-makers, statue-makers; and so it went on.

Cassius wiped sweat off his chin. Though the tower was comparatively cool, it was another hot day. He drank some water and forced himself to think about other avenues to explore; other ways to find the gang. A minute later he fell asleep.

When he awoke, the only light was the orange glow coming from beyond the windows. He heard feet on the stairs and the door opened.

‘All right?’ said Indavara, his face invisible in the gloom.

‘Gods, it’s dark. How long have I slept?’

‘Didn’t know you were sleeping – we thought you were up here working on some brilliant new plan.’

‘I was, but I …’

‘Listen, Patch isn’t very well. Simo and I are going to take him out for a walk, see if a trot through a stream will rouse him. You’ll be all right here, won’t you?’

‘Alone?’

‘Just lock the door – no one can get to you in here.’

‘I suppose you’re right. Can’t keep you with me every hour of the day.’

‘Simo says he’ll prepare some supper when we get back.’

‘Very well.’ Cassius got up and followed Indavara back down the stairs to the door.

‘There are fresh jugs of wine and water, sir,’ said Simo as the two of them walked out into the darkness.