The Far Shore (36 page)

‘In here,’ came the sonorous tones of Eborius from the room to the right. They found the big centurion leaning against a wall beside a woman of about sixty who was sitting on a chair. She was wearing faded red robes and her arms were weighed down with dozens of bangles. She had a pinched, narrow face and a healthy head of greying hair tied up with a band the same colour as her robes.

‘Morning,’ said Cassius.

‘Morning,’ said Eborius. ‘This is Hamman. She works at the library. Apparently most of the records are kept in two storerooms. They’re locked but she thinks she can get to the key. At certain times of the week – tomorrow afternoon for example – only she and the clerk are there. He’s one of Leon’s men, lazy and stupid; usually takes a long sleep after lunch. We can probably get you into the storerooms for an hour or two.’

Cassius spoke clearly to make sure the elderly woman understood him. ‘Thank you for helping us.’

‘It doesn’t come free,’ she said in faultless Latin.

‘Ah.’

‘An aurei now. One afterwards.’

Cassius looked at Eborius, who shrugged.

‘Best I can do.’

‘These records. What exactly is in there?’

‘It’s a mess,’ said Hamman. ‘Leon’s only interested in keeping an eye on who’s paid what at the end of every month. Most of it was recovered from the forum. There’s definitely some tax documentation, probably some electoral records too.’

‘Will I be able to take anything out?’

‘I’d prefer it if you didn’t but no one’s been in there in months, so I doubt anything would be missed. But you cannot get caught. You
must
not.’

‘I’ll be careful.’

The old woman stuck out her hand.

‘In a moment.’ Cassius reached inside the satchel and took out the list he and Simo had completed on the
Fortuna
. ‘Would you also have a look at this for me? Tell me if you recognise any of those names.’

The old woman snatched the list, then stood up so she could read it below the skylight. Cassius took a gold coin from his money bag and waited for her to finish. Eborius paced round the chamber, sipping from his canteen. Judging by the smell, there was as much wine in there as water.

Hamman shook her head briskly, then handed back the list.

Cassius dropped the gold aureus into her open palm. ‘Tomorrow then?’

‘I’ll make the arrangements,’ said Eborius.

Hamman ambled away towards the stairs.

‘You want me to check that as well, I presume?’ asked the centurion.

‘Please. I should have asked you last night.’

Eborius hung his canteen from his belt and examined the sheet. Cassius wandered over to the steps and watched Hamman disappear from view. The stall owner and his trays were gone too. In one of the amphorae were shiny, freshly washed black olives. Cassius was considering trying one when Eborius spoke.

‘Helvetius Cornix. I know that name. I believe he’s still here.’

Cassius hurried over to him and looked at the list. ‘Helvetius Cornix. Some kind of a scandal, I think. I can’t remember the details of it, nor the outcome.’

‘He is a small man, not particularly distinctive.’

‘Do you know where he lives?’

‘No, but I can find out.’

Cassius took the sheet and started towards the steps.

Eborius didn’t move. ‘Corbulo. Leave it to me. We can’t be seen together asking questions in town. I’ll come down to the ship at midday – let you know if I’ve made any progress.’

‘And until then?’

‘You’ll just have to be patient. If Carnifex hears we’re up to something, we’ll both be in the shit.’

The thought of idly waiting around while Memor’s murderer might be freely roaming the streets of Darnis didn’t sit well with Cassius, but he didn’t seem to have a great deal of choice.

‘Very well,’ he said, heading for the steps once more. ‘Midday, then.’

‘Midday.’

The timber yard was on the Via Roma – the avenue that ran south from the square, perpendicular to the Via Cyrenaica. Once past yet more fallen porticoes and horizontal columns, they came to what had once been the baths. Only a few bits of wall were left standing. The roof had fallen straight into the main pool and blocks of sundered stone lay atop each other in the filthy water.

‘Twenty people died in there,’ said Noster as they passed by.

‘Where were you when it happened?’ asked Annia.

‘Out on manoeuvres with Eborius,’ replied the legionary.

‘What time of day was it?’ asked Asdribar.

‘The sixth hour. Eborius tried to keep us together but all the men just dropped their shields and weapons and ran back to the town.’

‘For their families,’ said Annia.

Noster nodded. ‘I was lucky. My wife was outside, in the garden. She watched the house come down. The first night was the worst. You could hear people all over, stuck under the rubble. There weren’t enough of us to help them all, so Eborius decided we should concentrate on those that sounded youngest. But some we just couldn’t find. The second night was quiet. Sometimes the ruins shift and another body turns up. Usually they’re just bones now.’

The next section of the avenue turned out to be the busiest part of the town they’d seen. Beyond two large, fallen apartment buildings were a series of inhabited villas with washing hanging from lines and children playing outside. Some of the villas were newly built, and even a cursory glance showed they’d been constructed with durability in mind.

Not far past the last of them was a fenced yard containing a broad warehouse, which also looked new. Close to the front of the property, surrounded by the only patch of grass, was a tall gum tree. At the base of the pale, mottled trunk sat a young girl playing with carved wooden toys. Seeing the group arrive, she ran over and opened the gate for them.

‘Thank you,’ said Noster.

In front of the warehouse was a cart. A man appeared from behind it and waved. ‘Morning, Noster.’

‘Morning, Maro. I’ve got some clients for you.’

Noster introduced Asdribar and Korinth, then the timber merchant led the three of them back towards the warehouse.

The little girl grabbed Annia’s hand. ‘Do you want to see my toys?’

‘No, thank you.’

‘You can show me if you want,’ said Clara, trying to coax the girl away from her mistress.

‘I want to show
her
!’

‘Oh, very well,’ said Annia, and the two women followed the girl towards the tree.

Despite the predominance of blue in the sky, cloud had arrived overhead and released a light rain. Cassius glanced at the warehouse. ‘Come, Simo, I need to discuss something with you.’

Indavara walked under the tree. ‘I’m going to lie down.’

Cassius and Simo set off across the yard as drops of rain darkened the dusty ground.

‘One of the names on that list we made is Helvetius Cornix. Do you remember anything of the case?’

‘I do recall the name, sir. I think it was from the documents I dealt with.’

‘Obviously, or I would be able to remember more. I must have reviewed it though.’

‘Er …’

They walked around the cart, which was stacked with freshly cut timber complete with branches and leaves, and sheltered from the rain under the warehouse roof. The others were sitting at a table. Maro was making notes with a piece of charcoal.

‘Come on, Simo. Think.’

‘Sorry, sir, I—’

‘Yes, yes, I know. The wine’s still clouding your mind. Perhaps I should remind you of the time I got home from an all-nighter at the second hour and was delivering an extended oration on the works of Marcus Antistius Labeo by the fourth.’ Cassius looked up at the white, bulbous cloud. ‘Helvetius Cornix … Helvetius Cornix.’

‘Would you like me to run back to the
Fortuna
to fetch the documentation, sir?’

Cassius didn’t answer; he was looking at a long-legged spider descending upside down from one of the branches sticking out of the cart.

‘Helvetius Cornix, Helvetius Cornix …’

He was vaguely aware of a horse galloping along the Via Roma.

Indavara heard the horse too but was happy to stay where he was, eyes shut, lying flat on his back under the tree. Thankfully, the ache at the front of his head was at last starting to recede. The little girl was describing her toys to Annia and Clara. Simply by listening, he was able to picture each one.

As the horseman came closer her voice was lost in the pounding of hooves. The first voice Indavara heard when the rider had passed was Clara’s.

‘Oh,’ the maid said thoughtfully.

‘What?’ asked Annia.

‘That man. I think I’ve seen him somewhere before.’

‘Where?’

Indavara sat up.

‘I’m not sure,’ said Clara.

Annia turned to Indavara. ‘She’s never left Rhodes.’

Indavara scrambled to his feet, ran to the gate and vaulted over it. He looked along the Via Roma. The rider was thirty yards away already but still close enough to see he was not the largest of men.

‘Get Corbulo!’

He set off down the road.

‘Helvetius Cornix, Helvetius—’

‘Officer! Officer Corbulo!’

Cassius darted round the side of the cart and saw Annia, holding up her stola as she ran across the yard.

He came out to meet her, Noster and the others not far behind. ‘What is it?’

‘A man rode past. Clara recognised his face. It could be him.’

Cassius looked past her through the fence and saw Indavara sprinting along the road. ‘Noster, with me!’

Clara watched Cassius speed past. She had her hands on the shoulders of the little girl, who looked like she was about to cry.

Once over the gate, Cassius and Noster bolted after Indavara, who had just reached the inhabited villas. The rider – whose mount was tall and dark – was already a long way away.

‘Recognise him?’ asked Cassius between breaths.

‘Not from here,’ answered Noster.

As they ran past the houses, several dozen of the townspeople now sheltering from the rain looked on.

‘Caesar’s balls,’ said Cassius. ‘So much for blending in.’

Indavara had already given up his attempts to look casual; it wasn’t easy while sprinting along a wet road trying to keep up with a horse. The rider slowed his mount to a trot as he crossed the town square heading east. He now had a hood up and hadn’t looked back once.