‘But these are being produced across the Empire?’ said Cassius.
‘Well, yes.’
‘His coins,’ said Arruntius with a shrug. ‘His design.’
He put the reverse die on the anvil and the blank coin on top. He then flipped the obverse die over and placed it on top of the blank. Holding the tower steady, he turned to the others.
Indavara looked confused. ‘How do you get the …’
Arruntius gestured at the floor. Lying next to the table was a large hammer. ‘Sheer brute force. We seem to be in need of a labourer, my friend.’ He smiled at Indavara. ‘The men who work in this section tend to look a bit like you.’
‘You mean I can …’
‘Please.’
Indavara picked up the hammer.
‘Try and bring the head down as straight as you can,’ said Arruntius. ‘And preferably not on my fingers. You needn’t try too hard. The weight will do the work.’
Despite this advice, Indavara couldn’t resist giving it a good thump. After the impact, the tower fell on to the anvil with a clang.
Arruntius plucked the newly minted coin off the reverse die and handed it to the bodyguard. ‘Here. It’s yours.’
‘Really?’
‘Why not? You made it.’
Indavara looked down at the design now imprinted in the metal and grinned.
‘Easy, eh?’ said Cassius.
‘Not if you have to do it all day,’ said Arruntius. ‘We expect an experienced pair to knock out a hundred an hour.’
Cassius looked around the room. Against the wall were racks of tools and amphoras of varying sizes and designs. ‘So that’s it?’
‘Not quite.’ Arruntius pointed past a guard towards another doorway. ‘In the fourth section we weigh them again and give them a good polish. From there it’s to the counting room, then the store at the rear.’
Quentin was looking impatient.
‘Shall we move on to the issue at hand?’ suggested Cassius.
‘We can meet in my office – Arruntius has kindly put aside some space for me.’
‘I’ll have a maid come along with some refreshments,’ said their host, hurrying away back through the workshop.
‘Thank you,’ said Quentin as he led Cassius in the opposite direction.
Indavara was still looking at his coin. ‘I can really keep this?’
IV
The ‘office’ was in fact half of a large storeroom. It was considerably cooler than the rest of the mint, with air admitted through a dozen of the high circular windows and illumination via a square glassed skylight. The other half of the room was mostly shelves stacked with scroll-racks, waxed tablets and iron tools. Quentin had set himself up on a work table and was clearly a well-organised individual. Next to a framed map of the eastern provinces were several orderly piles of paper and a selection of labelled coins mounted on a board of cork.
As Cassius and Quentin sat on opposite sides of the table, Indavara took himself over to a nearby bench and lay down on his back. Quentin seemed bemused by this but said nothing.
‘How long have you been in Tripolis?’ asked Cassius.
‘I was sent here originally in the spring to help set up the mint. The building was here but everything you see inside is new. When this … issue raised its head I was asked to stay on and coordinate an investigation.’
‘Do you have anyone else to help you?’
‘Two clerks. They’re out gathering information as we speak.’
‘Marshal Marcellinus seemed to suggest that not much progress has been made. Is that fair?’
Quentin sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. ‘Perhaps if I start at the beginning?’
‘Of course.’
Cassius had put his satchel on the desk. He reached inside and took out a stick of charcoal to make notes with. ‘Do you have some paper?’
Quentin pointed at a pile of blank sheets. Just as Cassius took one, a maid hurried in with a tray. He was disappointed to see that she was middle aged and rather fat. Indavara sat up immediately, more interested in what she had brought.
‘Afternoon, sirs.’
‘Hello,’ said Indavara, already on his feet.
The maid placed the tray on the corner of the table, prompting a tut from Quentin. She put down a jug and three mugs, a bowl of glistening red grapes and a plate of sweet-smelling pastries.
‘Wine for everyone?’
‘Not for me,’ said Quentin. ‘And don’t spill any.’
With a practised smile, the maid poured wine for Cassius and Indavara, recovered the tray and departed as quickly as she’d arrived. ‘Compliments of Master Arruntius. If you would like anything else, please ask.’
‘Thanks a lot,’ said Indavara. He slurped at his wine, eliciting another tut from Quentin.
‘Why not go back to your bench?’ said Cassius. ‘Take the cakes.’
Indavara didn’t need a second invitation.
‘What he lacks in decorum he more than makes up for in other areas.’
‘I don’t doubt it.’ Quentin put his arms on the table and interlocked his fingers. ‘Do you know why this mint was commissioned?’
‘So that the local and visiting legions can be paid; and the Emperor can introduce coins bearing his image – show his face, so to speak.’
‘That’s part of it, yes.’
‘And also to restore confidence in the currency.’ Finance was not Cassius’s strong point but he knew inflation and debasement had worsened in recent years.
‘Quite so. As I said in the workshop, we are aiming for a consistent five per cent silver in the new denarius. Under some of the Emperor’s predecessors, it had dropped to as low as one per cent.’
‘Strange, really,’ said Cassius, ‘when one considers that all coins were originally a hundred per cent gold or silver or bronze.’
‘Unfortunately that is now impossible, but we are doing what we can.’
Quentin leaned across the desk and selected a coin from his collection. He handed it to Cassius. ‘See the XX below the sun god? It guarantees the five per cent minimum – twenty coins would make one of pure silver. If all goes to plan, within a few months these denarii should be the dominant coin of exchange across the Empire. The XX mark is designed to breed confidence. Confidence is our best weapon against inflation.’
‘But with all these coins being produced it’s a perfect time to introduce and distribute false currency.’
‘Precisely. And with counterfeits of such quality mixing with genuine coins, we will find it very difficult to identify the source.’
‘So what about these fakes? Do you have one to show me?’
Quentin nodded at Cassius’s hand.
‘This?’ He examined it. The detailing of the lettering and images was excellent.
Quentin passed him another denarius. ‘This is genuine. It’s actually slightly heavier – the fake is made with poor-quality bronze.’
Cassius held them in different hands. ‘I can’t tell.’
‘Only a trained man can. If you look closely at the Emperor’s crown and the lines of some of the letters, they are slightly different. This is how we know they are using the same initial die, though they must have produced copies because of the sheer number and spread.’
‘I’ve seen the odd fake around,’ said Cassius. ‘Mostly bronzes. They’re usually lighter, or smaller, or with ragged edges. It’s obvious.’
‘We see better counterfeiting in the northern provinces, Britain in particular, but these are the best I’ve come across east of Byzantium.’
‘This gang has expert help, then?’
‘Yes. And unfortunately there are a number of mint workers able to provide it. You are aware of the Felicissimus plot?’
‘Not the details.’
‘Felicissimus was Minister of Finance before Sabinus and was implicated in the fraudulent production of coins. He was making huge profits on the side, as were his accomplices at the mint. There were quite a few senior men on his payroll and several escaped justice, taking dies like you saw just now with them. Unfortunately, the new coins had already been issued in large numbers; we had no choice but to persist with the double X design.’