The Emperor's Silver: Agent of Rome 5 (37 page)

‘Well,’ said Cassius, ‘hardly conclusive proof of nefarious activity but we must watch that warehouse.’

‘Unfortunately I can’t leave Vespilo there,’ said Cosmas. ‘He and Gessius here have other duties. I was only able to borrow them for today.’

‘In the absence of anything else even vaguely promising, we must find out where that bronze ends up.’

‘I’ll go now and watch the warehouse tonight,’ offered the sergeant. ‘If it’s still there tomorrow, perhaps you could take over?’

‘Oh, joy,’ said Cassius with a sigh. ‘Don’t worry, Cosmas. We’ll take our turn.’

They left the tower before dawn. As the city awoke, doors were opened, shutters latched, chamber pots emptied. Thin trails of smoke from scores of fires reached high into the pink sky.

Indavara had told Corbulo that Simo needed his help fetching some food before they went to meet Cosmas. Corbulo had listened to this with his eyes half open, then struggled out of bed and down the stairs to lock the tower door behind them.

Simo hardly spoke until they were nearing Berytus’s largest statue of the Emperor Hadrian, where Elder Cobon and his group had already gathered. The Gaul stopped in the shadows of an awning. ‘I should not be doing this. I should not have told you.’

Returning from the market the previous day, he’d confided to Indavara that he’d bumped into one of the Christians. Cobon had discovered another group of paupers living by a rubbish dump; the men would take provisions to them while the women again searched for abandoned babies.

Indavara wasn’t entirely sure himself why he wanted to go. He didn’t enjoy putting Simo through all this worry but it was something he felt he had to do. ‘I told you – he’s all talk.’

‘You can’t be certain of that.’

‘So what, then? You will have no part of this “good work”?’

‘I want to, but—’

‘Simo, they are waiting for us and we haven’t any time to waste. Come on.’

The dump was on the southern edge of Berytus, surrounded by a decrepit section of the old city walls, some ramshackle apartment buildings and two large encampments. Cobon had learned that one camp was occupied by more Palmyran refugees, the other by nomads from the Syrian desert. Bordering the dump was a dusty track and a shallow ditch filled with brown water. Several narrow paths led over earth bridges into the piles of refuse, which must have covered at least a square mile.

Elder Cobon stopped by one of the paths, where two lads with a handcart had just arrived to discard a mound of seashells. Cobon spoke to the men – all of whom were carrying sacks of food – and they set off towards the closest of the camps. Amongst the women was the one Indavara had spoken to at the church-house and the girl they’d met on the first visit.

Indavara tapped Simo’s arm. ‘I’m going to stay here.’

‘But the men are going to the camp.’

‘Shouldn’t someone watch them? A place like this?’

‘Do you want to come with us?’ The older woman had remained behind while the others walked into the dump.

‘They don’t need me to hand out bread,’ said Indavara. ‘I could help you look.’

‘Another pair of eyes would be useful but you should probably ask Elder Cobon.’

The dynamic leader was moving quickly and hadn’t even noticed what was going on behind him.

Simo shook his head. ‘I’ll meet you here, then. We mustn’t be too long.’

As he hurried after the others, Indavara followed the woman over the bridge.

‘I’m Alfidia,’ she said as they passed the two lads, who were already shovelling out the seashells. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Indavara.’

‘I’ve not heard that before.’

He never knew what to say to that.

‘Why must you get back quickly?’ she continued. ‘An impatient master, I suppose?’

‘Yes. Though he’s not really my master.’

‘Is it true that you do not follow the Faith, Indavara?’

‘It is.’

He thought that might upset her but Alfidia just smiled kindly. ‘Then can I ask why you are here?’

‘I don’t know really.’

They reached the others, who had stopped and formed a circle. Before anyone could speak, a little boy of about eight came running up to them. ‘I saw one, I saw one. Give us a coin and I’ll tell you where.’

‘Or you’ll just run off with it like you did last time,’ said one of the women.

They tried to ignore him, even when he started pulling on their tunics. Alfidia shooed him away but he turned his attention to the young woman. ‘Come on, just some food, then? Just a bit of food.’

She tried to move away but he was insistent.

One step forward from Indavara was enough to change his mind.

‘Curse you all!’ he yelled before running off.

The young woman nodded a shy thank-you.

‘This is Indavara,’ said Alfidia. ‘He is going to help us this morning. Now, shall we divide up as usual?’

While they spoke, Indavara looked at the young woman. She was quite tall and very thin, so thin that her pale blue tunic hung straight from her bony shoulders. Indavara thought her quite pretty and didn’t mind the faint brown birthmark on her right cheek. Her curly black hair was tied up messily with what looked like string. Aware that the others might notice his interest, he dragged his eyes away.

Alfidia had decided he would help her and, once the group split up, led the way. Indavara told himself that the girl wasn’t important, that he should concentrate on what they were there for. Alfidia stayed on one side of the path and directed him to the other. ‘They’re often left in baskets or wrappings. We must listen carefully too.’

As they ventured farther into the dump, the smell worsened. It wasn’t as bad as what came up out of the sewers, but there was clearly a lot of rotten food somewhere and in some places a fetid steam was rising. Some of the higher mounds of refuse were three times the height of a man. Indavara still found it almost impossible to believe that they might find a baby here. Aside from the stench and the dirt, the dump was strewn with dangers: shattered amphoras, broken tiles, fragments of glass.

They passed a group of lads dumping animal bones, apparently unconcerned that most of them ended up on the path. More boys appeared at the summit of another mound, wicker baskets strapped to their backs, hands wrapped in cloth. Alfidia spoke to them in Aramaic then continued looking. As the path bore around to the right, Indavara kept his eyes on the rubbish.

Broken red clay lamps. A mouldy rectangle of leather. Rotting apples. A block of pockmarked limestone. A sandal. The skin of a melon.

Movement. But it was just a big black-shelled insect, crawling across the handle of yet another broken amphora.

He realised Alfidia had stopped. Now that they were away from the boys, it was quieter. ‘Listen. Your hearing will be better than mine.’

‘Not in this ear.’ He pointed at it, then stayed silent. They listened for more than a minute but heard nothing.

Continuing on, they came upon a little dog sniffing something by the path. Alfidia thanked the Lord when she discovered it was just some old animal hides.

‘What do you do for work?’ she asked as they set off again.

‘Bodyguard.’

Alfidia glanced at the dagger upon his belt. ‘Violence is a sin. The Lord tells us that we must not harm others.’

Indavara thought of the legionary. What was his name? Scato. He couldn’t remember actually attacking him; just the look on his face when he let go. ‘Sometimes it just happens.’

They kept searching for another half an hour then met up with the others in the centre of the dump. When he heard that no one had found anything, Indavara felt disappointed, then realised how stupid that was.

‘A good thing, I suppose,’ he said as they trudged towards the street.

‘Yes,’ replied Alfidia. ‘Especially as we haven’t found somewhere for the other little one yet.’

‘Where do they go?’ asked Indavara, remembering what Corbulo had told him.

‘To good homes. Only good homes.’

Indavara glanced over his shoulder. The young woman was behind them, walking alone. Knowing he wouldn’t get a better chance to talk to her, he dropped back.

‘Another hot day.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Indavara might have laughed had he not been so nervous. ‘You don’t have to call me sir. I’m Indavara. What’s your name?’

‘Mahalie.’

He wiped sweat off his top lip. ‘Ah.’

She suddenly seemed keen to catch up with the others.

‘Is that Greek?’

She still hadn’t looked at him. ‘No.’

‘Aramaic?’

She nodded.

‘What do you do for work, Mahalie?’

‘Don’t want to talk.’ With that, she ran on after the others.

Indavara slowed down, face glowing. Once the women reached the edge of the dump, Mahalie spoke briefly to Alfidia then hurried away.

‘That’s why the men should stay with the men,’ said one of the women. ‘You leave her alone.’

His face grew even warmer. ‘Sorry.’ He walked past them, towards the camp.

‘Indavara.’

Seeing Alfidia coming after him, he stopped. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t be. There’s no harm in talking to someone but Mahalie’s very quiet. Especially with men.’

‘I didn’t … I wasn’t trying to …’

‘I know.’

They both watched as Mahalie disappeared around a corner.

‘I do hope she doesn’t get into trouble,’ said Alfidia. ‘She can’t come very often.’

‘She is a servant?’

‘A house maid.’

‘A slave?’

‘Yes.’

‘Are you?’ asked Indavara.

‘No. Some of the others are, though. What about you?’

‘I was. Does she have any family?’

‘Just a sister but they were split up when her master brought her here from Antioch. Poor thing, we found her at the Temple of Aphrodite, seeking sanctuary. She had run away but the priests wouldn’t let her stay, so we took her to the church-house. Eventually, she decided to go back to her master. I think she enjoys being part of our group, though it’s hard to tell – she’s so quiet.’

‘Why had she run away?’

Alfidia looked back at the others, who were all staring at her. ‘I shouldn’t gossip like this. Will you come to help us again, Indavara?’

‘I’d like to. Do you come every day?’

‘We try to send someone, yes. Sometimes the boys find a little one and bring it to the church-house. They know they’ll get a coin or two from Elder Cobon.’

The Christian men had emerged from the camp.

‘I should be going. Good day.’

‘Good day, Indavara. And do not worry – you have done nothing wrong. The Lord knows it.’

‘By the great gods, what a shit hole.’

The tavern was quite possibly the worst Cassius had ever seen. The proprietor had just left, having escorted them up to the second-floor room, where they found Cosmas sitting by the single window.

‘Good view, though, sir,’ said the sergeant. ‘And that fellow didn’t ask much to keep his mouth shut.’

‘Probably his only source of income.’

There had been no customers down in the parlour, nor any sign that the other rooms were occupied. The walls were streaked with dirt of varying shades and visible collations of dust had gathered in the corners. The ‘bed’ was about a foot high, with straw leaking out of a holed mattress. While Indavara drank water from his flask, Cassius stepped over some rodent droppings and joined Cosmas.

‘Over there, sir.’

The warehouse was about fifty yards down the road to the left but because of a collapsed apartment block they could see almost the entire building. It was brick-built, with a gently sloping tiled roof; perhaps forty yards long and half as wide. There were two gates: one across the broad entrance, one within the surrounding ten-foot wall. A sentry was sitting on a stool in the shade, picking at his toes.

‘Just the one way in?’ asked Cassius.

‘Yes, and just the one guard. Swapped with his mate at dawn. It’s odd – no other comings and goings.’

‘Quiet round here,’ said Indavara, joining Cassius by the window as Cosmas stood up and moved aside.

The sergeant yawned and inadvertently belched. ‘Sorry. Long night.’

‘Best go and get some sleep,’ advised Cassius.

‘I wish. Diadromes needs me on the Gorgos job. I might catch a couple of hours at headquarters later.’