‘Right.’
‘And – I think it was him …’ Segestes rifled through the pages until he found the right one. ‘Yes. He insisted on coming to the mint as soon as we contacted him. Didn’t want us to go to him.’
‘Or see his house, perhaps?’
‘Maybe, sir.’
‘What are you doing now?’
‘I was going to report back to Master Quentin.’
‘Do you have an address for this Eryx character?’
Segestes consulted the sheet again. ‘Yes, sir.’
‘Go and have a look at his house. See what it’s like and what else you can find out. My man Simo will give you some coin – throw a bit at the neighbours if you have to. You’re interested in who he associates with, whether he’s spent much money recently, visitors to the house and so on.’
‘That will take time, sir.’
‘Don’t worry, I’ll make sure Quentin knows where you are. You can take a couple of coins for yourself too.’
‘Thank you, sir.’ Segestes checked the address again. ‘It’s on the other side of the city. I’d better get going.’
Simo came over with the money. He gave the clerk two sesterces and a dozen more for the bribes.
‘Send word to me later,’ said Cassius.
‘I can call in, sir, it’s pretty much on my way back to the mint.’
Segestes left.
‘Simo, write a note on my behalf to Quentin and find a lad to run it up to the mint. Thank him for providing me with these transcripts and inform him that I have sent Segestes on an important task. I will call in at some point tomorrow to liaise with him once more.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Cassius reached into the box, took out the first sheet and started reading.
Indavara returned an hour later. Cassius’s door was open to get some air in and he looked on as the bodyguard asked Hanina for a jug of water. By the looks of him, he had been running for the entire time; sweat was pouring off his face and his feet were black. Kitra came along and tried to talk to him but Indavara took his water and hurried into his room.
Simo was sitting on his bed, polishing Cassius’s riding boots with a brush. He looked at his master and shrugged.
‘We’ll leave him be for now,’ said Cassius. ‘I dare say he’ll show his face for dinner.’
‘How are you faring, sir?’
Cassius had just finished the last page. ‘There are a few potential leads but Segestes and his colleague haven’t exactly been thorough. If we don’t make any progress elsewhere I may have to interview these men again.’
‘Do you think we’ll be in Tripolis for a while, sir?’
‘Hard to say. I expect you’re wondering if it’s worth seeking out the nearest church-house?’
Simo continued with his work.
‘You can talk about it. I think we both know my position on the matter but I don’t intend to stop you.’
‘Much appreciated, sir.’
‘I suppose I should seek out the Temple of Jupiter – give thanks for this assignment.’
‘It does seem less perilous than some, sir.’
‘Let us hope it remains so.’
Hearing Neokles snapping orders at the girls, Cassius watched the owner stagger in with two amphoras which he dumped beside the bar. A pair of lads were trailing along behind him, both weighed down with baskets full of bread and fruit.
‘Something happening tonight, Simo?’
‘Master Neokles belongs to a guild of innkeepers, sir. I believe he is hosting a function.’
‘Balls.’
‘Are you worried about the noise, sir?’
‘No, Simo. I’m worried about the girls. They’ll be busy all bloody night.’
VII
Even though Neokles had set up a grill on the terrace and the smell of roasting lamb reached every corner of the inn, Indavara did not appear. As the first of the innkeeper’s guests began to arrive, Cassius knocked on the bodyguard’s door. There was no answer but he opened it.
Indavara was lying on his bed in the same sodden tunic he’d run in. The windowless room was stuffy and hot. Cassius left the door open.
‘Shut it, please.’
‘Gods, man, it’s like a furnace in here.’
‘Corbulo.’
‘All right.’ Cassius shut it, then moved the bodyguard’s fighting stave out of his way and sat on a stool. Indavara was staring blankly up at the ceiling. Cassius noticed his tiny Fortuna figurine on the bedside table.
‘Not hungry?’
Indavara shook his head.
‘What about some sword practice – I’ll have Neokles put up some lamps outside.’
‘Too tired.’
‘Where did you run to?’
‘Up the coast. Some town. Zi … something.’
‘Zigara. That’s five miles away. You ran ten miles in this heat? On the road?’
‘Mostly beach, actually.’
‘You have to have some of that roast lamb. The crackling’s delicious.’
Indavara turned his head towards him at last. ‘It’s fading.’
‘The memory?’
Indavara reached up with one hand and held it above his head. ‘It was so clear. Now …’ The hand formed a fist, which he smacked down on to the bed.
‘What was it?’
‘A clearing in a forest. It was cold. Frost on the trees. There were many of us. Someone spoke to me. A woman.’
‘Could it be-’
‘Could be anyone.’
‘Anything else?’
Indavara shook his head.
‘Was that tune playing there? There might be some association.’
‘I – I don’t know.’
Cassius pulled the stool closer to the bed. ‘Listen, I can see it’s difficult for you. But this is a good thing.’
‘How? What if I never remember anything more? It could be a thousand places, a million.’
‘The old man said Gaul. Frost? You’ve told me before you think you’re from the northern provinces.’
‘Simo told me Gaul is huge, bigger even than Syria.’
‘There is more we can do. Remember my idea – writing to the Service man in Pietas Julia? I did a little research; there’s no officer there but Abascantius gave me a contact in Siscia, not far away at all. It’s only two years since you were freed – he can find out about this Capito, the organiser of games.’
Indavara picked up the figurine.
Cassius knew the wiser option was to tell him to forget it all; that there really was no hope. Abascantius had warned him about encouraging the bodyguard along a path that might eventually lead him away. To counter such a possibility, the two agents had persuaded him to take an oath to join the army earlier in the year. But, once again, Indavara had saved Cassius’s life. What he owed the man could not be expressed in words, only actions. If he could help him solve the riddle that was his past, he would do it.
‘Perhaps this was Fortuna’s doing,’ he said, nodding at the figurine.
‘You really think so?’
‘This is how the gods work. They give us signs. We’re in Syria, yet we heard a tune from Gaul. I don’t think you should ignore it.’
‘Could you send the letter tomorrow?’
‘Yes, but don’t get carried away. It will take weeks to hear anything and there may well be nothing to hear. But it’s a start.’
Indavara sat up. ‘Then please do it.’
‘That’s the spirit. I shall write it first thing.’
Indavara looked down at the figurine again.
‘So, some dinner?’ asked Cassius. ‘A wash might be advisable too or Kitra won’t come near you again.’
‘I’ll stay in here tonight.’
‘I know this is unsettling but try not to let it gnaw away at you. Life has to go on. Shall I tell Simo to get a plate for you? And ask Neokles for some hot water?’
Indavara got up off the bed.
‘Good.’
Having failed to get to the baths, Cassius needed a wash himself. Once Simo had finished drying him, he put on a clean tunic. It was a rather effeminate light blue – purchased originally for him to disguise himself as a merchant while on assignment in Arabia – but he now found he quite liked it.