‘Come on, Simo, I need you to count.’
The Gaul knelt beside him. ‘What shall we put them in? Master Cassius’s bag?’
‘That’ll do.’ Indavara took the satchel from the table and emptied out the contents.
Simo had already finished counting. ‘Thirty.’
Indavara scooped the coins into the satchel. ‘Let’s go.’
Cassius reckoned at least half an hour had already passed. On the couch opposite, Kushara was cleaning his fingernails with the tip of his knife. The dog handler was alternating between picking his nose and stroking the dog. The Molossus was sitting upright, drooling onto the floor.
Head in his hands, Ulixes continued his prayers. Having so far invoked all twelve of the great Roman gods, he’d also appealed to a few local deities and was now working his way through the Greek and Egyptian pantheons.
Arriving back at the slave auction, Indavara was dismayed to see that the crowd had trebled in size. He soon saw why: upon a high platform were three young women being paraded before the crowd. Clearly from some distant northern province, they were tall, fair haired and clothed in short, low-cut tunics. The auctioneer’s voice could barely be heard above the whistles and shouts.
‘Balls,’ said Indavara. ‘It’ll take ages to get through there.’
‘Perhaps we can go around?’ said Simo between breaths.
Keeping a tight grip on the satchel, Indavara retraced their steps then ran along a parallel street. At the far end was an open gate, but as they got closer he realised it was the side entrance to a private townhouse. The three-storey building was still under construction and encased by wooden scaffolding. Next to the gate was a pile of sand and stacks of limestone blocks. Labourers were carrying the blocks in for other artisans working with chisels and hammers.
Indavara could see right through the property to the gate on the opposite side. Beyond was an alley. If they could get there and cut right, they’d be only a stone’s throw from the villa’s drive.
‘Straight through?’ he suggested.
‘There are a lot of workers in there,’ replied Simo anxiously.
‘So hopefully no one will notice two more.’ Indavara waited for the next labourer to pick up his block and return through the gate, then took one for himself. It was quite heavy but he got it up on his shoulder easily enough. ‘Quick.’
‘Oh, Lord.’ Simo took a little longer to raise his stone.
‘Come on, we’re running out of time.’
The labourers had walked off to the right to deposit their loads but one was already on his way back. ‘Who are you?’
‘We’re … er … with the other crew,’ Indavara said as he came through the gate.
‘Oh.’
Indavara winced but hurried on towards the side of the villa, Simo close behind. They walked up some steps and through a doorway into an unfinished atrium where more men were working on a floor mosaic. Just as the pair exited the other side of the villa, they heard a shout.
‘Hey! Hey, you!’
‘Oh no,’ said Simo.
Spying a trio of labourers coming after them, Indavara dumped his block and ran past a mound of rubble to the side gate. It was identical to the other one — except it was shut and secured by a padlocked iron chain.
‘Shit.’
As he and Simo turned round, the labourers piled out of the villa. One was the man Indavara had spoken to.
Another, older fellow spoke up. ‘Take us for cretins, do you? There is no other crew. Least now we know who’s been stealing our supplies.’
‘Not us,’ said Indavara.
‘What in Hades were you doing with the stones, then?’
‘Listen.’ Indavara patted the satchel. ‘I have some gold coins in here. If I give you one will you let us go on our way?’
The leader looked at the others, then all three laughed.
The jollity didn’t last. The leader stalked towards Indavara and pointed at Simo. ‘Balbus, you watch Fatso. We’ll take care of this one.’
Balbus — a bearded giant even taller and heavier than Simo — approached the Gaul. Simo tried an appeasing smile, to no obvious effect.
Indavara looked over his shoulder. The wall was high and he could see no way over. He glanced at the villa. The wooden scaffold was between the side of the building and the wall. The alley beyond was narrow, the houses opposite close.
‘Hundreds of sesterces you thieving cocksuckers have cost us,’ said the labourer, pulling a hammer from his belt. ‘It’s time for some payback.’
‘Sorry, Simo. We don’t have time to mess around.’
Indavara ran: through the lowest level of scaffolding, along the side of the villa, then inside through a low window. The mosaic-makers watched as he bounded up the staircase.
On the first level there were little more than walls and floorboards. From below came several shouts as the labourers gave chase. He raced up the next staircase; on the top level there were only floorboards.
Once at the edge of the structure he looked down through the scaffolding. The sloping roofs of the townhouses opposite were about ten feet below. He reckoned the distance across the alley to be no more than fifteen feet. Close enough.
He heard the labourers on the first floor. He ran back to the staircase and looked down. The leader was charging up at him, face red, still gripping the hammer. Indavara looked back at the scaffold. Enough of a run-up? It would have to be.
‘Put that down.’
Simo took the block from his shoulder and held it across his chest. He could hear the men yelling as they chased Indavara but all he could think about was that horrible villa and those horrible people. Surely the hour was almost up. What would they do to that man Ulixes and Master Cassius? He had to get away too.
The bearded labourer seemed to see the change in his expression. ‘Don’t even think about it.’
‘Lord, forgive me.’
Simo heaved the stone at the man, who had no choice but to try and catch it. He got both hands on it but overbalanced and fell backwards, the stone landing on both stomach and groin.
‘Sorry!’ Simo looked down the long drive that led to the villa. At the bottom was the main gate, which was open. He set off at a jog, sandals splashing through muddy puddles.
Indavara checked the satchel was secure then sprinted away from the staircase. He touched the planks of the scaffolding only once — a driving step that launched him high into the air and over the alley.
A rust-coloured roof flashed towards him.
He spread his arms and legs but the impact shattered dozens of tiles and drove the breath from his lungs. His boots landed just above the edge of the roof and he instantly began to slide. His left foot slipped off. He pressed down with his hands but both were stinging. His right foot dropped over the edge, then both knees.
He heard tiles smashing on the ground. Spying an exposed wooden beam, he gripped it with his left hand and held himself against the roof-edge with his right arm. Legs hanging, he sucked in some air then looked down — surely there wasn’t far to drop.
But whoever owned the house was clearly keen on security. The wall directly below was topped with triangles of glass.
Two young children — a boy and a girl — had stopped in front of the house and were standing there, watching him.
‘What are you doing?’ asked the boy.
‘Indavara!’
He twisted his head the other way and saw Simo trotting along the street. The Gaul raised both hands in desperation. ‘How did you …’
Simo then looked back the way he’d come. The three labourers weren’t far behind.
‘Here,’ said Indavara, slipping the satchel from his shoulder and flinging it into the street. ‘Take it. Get to the villa.’
Simo picked it up. ‘What about you?’
‘I’ll work something out. Just go!’
As Simo fled, Indavara looked down again at the wall. He might just be able to swing forward and land inside it, but that would risk catching his back or head on the vicious edges of the glass.