Segestes returned at the second hour of night. Disappointingly, the villa of the ex-caster Eryx had turned out to be utterly average; and the most incriminating evidence gleaned from his neighbours was that he always needed reminding to trim his hedge. Cassius thanked the clerk for his efforts and dismissed him.
Indavara appeared for a while to eat some lamb and spoke briefly to the girls but went to bed early. With Simo studying one of his medical tomes, Cassius was left alone at the bar. The inn was now occupied by a dozen or so men from Neokles’s guild. Once they’d all had their fill of lamb, bread and accompanying vegetables, they sat around two big tables pushed together. Cassius exchanged the odd remark with the girls but once the meal was over they had quite a pile of crockery to wash up.
He sat there sipping his wine, thoughts alternating between what he’d like to do with the voluptuous Kitra and the counterfeiting investigation. If the gang were as professional in other areas as they were with the production of the coins, progress might be slow. It might become a laborious, time-consuming slog, and he doubted either Marshal Marcellinus or Minister Sabinus would be particularly patient. Even so, he remained hopeful. Quentin seemed sure that such gangs were not well established in this part of the world and this complicated endeavour would require a lot of people. Like any human activity, the greater the complexity and the numbers involved, the greater the chance of a mistake.
The girls took so long in the kitchen that Cassius considered taking a walk; he knew there were other taverns close by. But even though they were now so far from Bostra, it didn’t seem wise to wander the darkened streets alone.
Eventually, Kitra and Hanina returned to the parlour, their main duty now to keep the guildsmen’s glasses full. The fussy Neokles would catch their eye whenever one of his compatriots was getting low and repeatedly prompted them to bring fresh bowls of nuts and dried fruit. The innkeepers were getting louder, telling jokes and funny tales – mostly about guests past and present.
Cassius continued his charm offensive with Kitra and Hanina, adapting his style according to whom he was talking to. Kitra seemed genuinely concerned about Indavara so Cassius told her an old injury was troubling him. Hanina seemed keen to talk and spent her spare moments asking about his travels.
But when a guildsman returned from the latrine to announce it was blocked, the unfortunate girls were dispatched to investigate. Cassius would have retired then but his wine had just been topped up. He felt quite proud of himself; his last mug of the day was his third.
Talk in the parlour had turned to local politics. Cassius listened in and heard mention of several notable figures, including the procurator and the magistrate. Someone made a hushed comment and there was a moment of silence. Cassius turned and saw that half the guildsmen were staring at him. In a way the timing was fortuitous; it had just occurred to him that Neokles’s guests might be of use.
He got off the stool and walked over, smiling. ‘Gentlemen, please do not censor yourselves on my account.’
‘Apologies, Centurion Crispian,’ said Neokles, ‘I would not want you to feel uncomfortable.’
‘Please. This is not my city. Continue as you would normally. I shall soon be retiring, though I did wonder if I might ask for a few minutes of your time.’
Neokles stood. ‘Of course, what can I do for you?’
‘I meant all of you.’ Cassius looked around the group. ‘What is the name of this distinguished association?’
‘The Guild of East Tripolis Inn and Tavern Keepers.’
‘Ah. Today I met with Assistant Procurator Dominicus and I dare say I’ll be meeting him again. As a gesture of mutual cooperation, I could perhaps put in a word for the guild. Is there a particular matter you might wish me to mention?’
For a moment no one spoke. Then a corpulent character wearing a heavily embroidered tunic caught Cassius’s eye. ‘Excuse me, Centurion.’ He spoke a few sentences in Aramaic. The others considered his point then gave their assent.
‘We would be most appreciative if you could bring up the subject of military billeting. We have heard that several centuries will be passing through in the coming weeks and there has been an unfortunate tendency to favour the western side of the city because it is fractionally closer to the army compound. We would like to see this imbalance redressed.’
‘I shall ensure that the assistant procurator knows of your concern.’
The large man walked over and they shook forearms. ‘Theopropides, chief of the guild.’ He grabbed a chair for Cassius while the others cleared a space.
‘Many thanks. I shall be back in a moment.’ Cassius went to his room and retrieved the spearhead and the page of information from the land register.
‘Need me, sir?’ said Simo, getting up off his bed.
‘Yes – to make notes.’
While Simo grabbed some writing materials, Cassius returned to the parlour. He doubted the innkeepers would know a lot about the casters, but they were clearly familiar with the great and the good of Tripolis. As he sat down, Neokles placed his wine on the table.
Cassius laid the spearhead next to it. ‘It is best that you know who you are addressing. I am Centurion Cassius Oranius Crispian, currently attached to the governor’s staff of Arabia.’ He thought it best not to mention the Service – partly to protect his anonymity in Tripolis, partly to negate any unpleasant associations his audience might have with ‘grain men’. He had used centurion with Neokles because ‘officer’ would confuse him.
‘I am here on an assignment given to me by Marshal Marcellinus himself. I’m sure it goes without saying that this is all in confidence.’
‘Of course,’ said Theopropides, pushing silver bangles up his chubby arm.
‘Now, if I may, I will read out some names. I am not looking for scandal or secrets, merely some background information. It occurred to me that you gentlemen might be extremely well informed.’
‘Please,’ said another of the guildsmen.
Cassius pushed his chair back a little so that they couldn’t see the list. Simo grabbed himself a stool and sat behind him, ready with writing block, paper and pen.
‘Scribonius Maursus.’
Theopropides took the lead. ‘Local landowner, his main estate is south of the city. Interests in shipping and olive oil.’
‘Three vineyards also,’ said another man.
Simo scribbled the first of his notes.
‘Not particularly concerned with politics,’ added Neokles. ‘His brother represents the family on the city council.’
Cassius nodded appreciatively. He would have liked to ask about the man’s reputation and the very scandals he’d claimed not to be interested in but the guildsmen would instantly clam up. Despite their enthusiasm, he was a visitor and had offered them only a comparatively small favour; the innkeepers would not be impolitic enough to impugn their betters in so open a way.
‘Good, thank you.’ And so it went on. Cassius considered all the information useful but there was nothing of real interest until the sixth name: an individual named Vesnius Isatis. Theopropides offered the basics on his business interests but said nothing more and no one else seemed keen to contribute.
Eventually, Neokles spoke up. ‘You might mention his name to Assistant Procurator Dominicus. He would … know more, I’m sure.’
‘Very well.’
Cassius continued down the list. The guildsmen passed on what they knew. Simo made his notes.
The penultimate name was that of one Numerius Afer. Upon hearing it, Theopropides hesitated, grimaced, then took a sip of wine. One man was about to speak but another held up his hand. Then an argument broke out in Aramaic. Neokles leant close to Cassius and apologised. After a short time, Theopropides silenced the others and continued in Greek.
‘Brothers, it is a matter of public record. The centurion here will learn this and more besides as soon as he mentions the name to Dominicus or for that matter anyone else in Tripolis.’ He turned to Cassius. ‘Several months ago, Afer’s business concerns were appropriated by the procurator and sold off. It later emerged that he had built up an enormous tax bill. He also had to sell off some land and relocate to a smaller property. The next name?’