‘No, no, don’t speak,’ interjected Cassius.
By now, the two sentries outside the fortress had wandered over and were questioning some of the men.
Cassius called out to them. ‘Leave this to me, thank you.’
The legionaries desisted but stayed to listen in as Cassius addressed the mob. ‘I am Officer Corbulo of the Fourth Scythican Legion and currently a member of Governor Calvinus’s staff. This man is part of my household and therefore under my protection. Any dispute is between him, the party concerned, and me. Not you lot. You should therefore leave immediately.’
‘But he-’
‘Finish that sentence and you’ll find yourself up before the municipal court before the day is out. If your idea of a pleasant evening is to be tied to a post and have the skin flayed from your back then by all means continue!’
Cassius had spoken with such ferocity that a dollop of spittle landed on Snub’s tunic. This was not the first time he’d admonished a large group of men — soldiers and citizens — and he always followed the advice of a centurion he’d observed to be particularly good at it. Get in quick and sell your anger. Think of them as children or animals. They must believe it.
Checking first that no one was aiming a weapon at him, Cassius stretched out his arm and pointed the tip of his sword at Snub. ‘Now, I think it’s about time you vacated my doorway.’
He took a step, and if Snub hadn’t retreated, the blade would have struck his face. The others withdrew too. Cassius walked them all the way onto the road, stopping only when he reached the gate.
‘Disperse! Quickly if you know what’s good for you — I have a remarkable memory for faces.’
Only then did Cassius remember he was barefoot. As the muttering men trudged away along the street, he spotted Lepida and Helena watching from a window. He gave what he hoped was a genial shrug and returned to the house.
Indavara was leaning against the wall, recovering.
Cassius shut the door then sheathed his sword. ‘I must admit I rather enjoyed that.’
‘Thanks.’
‘Pleasure. Nice to be able to return the favour once in a while. So what happened?’
‘Don’t worry, just … thank you.’
He walked into his room and pulled the curtain shut behind him.
Cassius spent the rest of the day in the study (forgoing his usual trip to the baths) and finally finished sorting out the papers. He didn’t find much else of use other than an older list of informers with some different names to follow up. He was trying to decipher some of Verecundus’s scrawled notes concerning a previous agreement between Calvinus and the Tanukh when Muranda came in carrying a lamp.
‘Here, sir, you’ll hurt your eyes reading in this gloom.’
Cassius put the sheet down. ‘I should start getting ready now anyway.’
‘Out again tonight, sir?’
‘The theatre. Apparently Brutus is on after all.’
‘Who’s that one by, sir?’
‘Accius.’
‘Mmm. I’m not one for the theatre really. I do love a good mime, though.’
‘Can’t stand them myself.’
As Cassius placed some paperweights on the various piles, Muranda closed the shutters.
‘Sure you won’t be wanting any dinner, sir?’
‘Quite sure.’
‘Not really worth cooking then, I suppose. Not if it’s just going to be me.’
‘Well, I doubt Indavara will be going out, and when have you ever known him to miss a meal?’
‘He said he’s not hungry, sir. Just sitting in the kitchen he is, miserable as I’ve seen him. Must have been what happened earlier.’
‘He didn’t tell you what had caused it all?’
‘No, sir. I daren’t ask how he got on at the contest.’
‘The archery? The final? That was today?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Shit.’
Indavara was perched on a stool by the kitchen table, close to the hearth. He was staring at the flames, idly stroking the cat. As Cassius walked in, the bodyguard gave him a wary glance, then went back to looking at the fire.
Cassius decided to let the cat stay where it was. ‘Drink?’
Indavara shook his head.
‘I insist.’
Cassius found two clay mugs and made up a mix of two-thirds wine, one-third water. The wine was the local stuff — a tad bitter for his taste but good and strong. He handed a mug to Indavara then pulled the bench out from under the table so he could sit opposite him.
‘The contest — apologies. I forgot.’
Cassius now recalled that Simo had left him a note reminding him to try and make the semi-finals. Now he’d missed the whole thing, including whatever had led to the trouble.
‘You don’t hit people without good reason. What happened?’
Indavara sipped his drink and continued stroking the cat.
From the fortress came the sound of bellowed orders, a noise they had become used to.
‘Come on. Tell me.’
‘I might be leaving soon.’
‘Leaving? Why?’
‘There’s nothing for me here.’
‘Of course there is.’
Indavara looked at him. ‘You have things to occupy you — your job with the governor, chasing women. Simo has his work, his friends at the church-house. What do I have?’
‘You have a place with us. With me, with the Service.’
‘What do I care? Just another job.’
Cassius hadn’t heard him talk like this before. He’d always assumed Indavara had little affection for Rome — no surprise in an ex-gladiator — but he thought their experiences together had created quite a bond. Cassius also knew Indavara had no one else; no family, no other friends.
‘What about that girl, Nasari?’
‘Sanari,’ replied Indavara sternly. ‘I might as well forget her. What must she think of me now?’
‘Gods, man — just tell me what happened. It’s not sensible to keep all your problems bottled up. Perhaps I can help.’
Even as he spoke, Cassius admitted to himself that his concern was not solely for Indavara’s well-being. For someone in his line of work, a good bodyguard was essential; and Indavara had repeatedly shown himself to be nothing short of irreplaceable. But he was a troubled man, and Cassius now realised he had erred in neglecting him.
Indavara took a long breath before speaking. ‘I was doing well, but this bastard Eclectis-’
‘I remember the name — the current champion.’
‘He worked out I’d been a fighter, started riling me — made me remember things. Things I’ve tried to forget.’
‘So he played dirty. You must have had him worried.’
‘Still worked, though. I couldn’t control myself. I lost.’
‘And then you hit him.’
‘Yes.’
‘Listen, memories such as you must have would stay with anyone. I’ve a share that haunt me too — as you well know — but your situation is unique. You remember nothing else before the arena. Perhaps that’s why those thoughts remain so strong.’
Indavara downed the rest of his wine and slammed the mug onto the table. The cat sped silently out of the kitchen.
Cassius drank. Given what he knew, he really had been stupid not to notice the poor sod struggling. But perhaps there was a way to make up ground. ‘I’ve been thinking about something. The first thing you remember is the arena, correct? At Pietas Julia?’
Indavara nodded.
Cassius had first considered this idea months ago but had never got round to mentioning it. ‘There’s bound to be a Service officer there. I can write to him, ask him to do some investigating on your behalf. You mentioned a man once, the organiser of games. He might know more about where you came from.’
‘As if he would help.’
‘You know how persuasive the Service can be. It may take time and it may not lead anywhere, but we could at least try.’
‘You would do that?’
‘Absolutely.’
Indavara gave a little smile. ‘Absolutely — it means to be certain. Like a pledge or promise.’
‘It does.’
‘That’s what you said about the contest. You said you’d be there. Absolutely.’