Before Cassius could formulate a cynical reply, Indavara walked in. He was sweating heavily from another bout of barrel-lifting.
‘Corbulo, there’s a man outside wants to talk. Says he’s got some information for us.’
Frowning, Cassius plucked his sword belt off the hook it was hanging from.
‘Good idea,’ said Indavara, taking it from him. He led the way back through the parlour and out to the front yard.
Neokles’s lad was there, sweeping up and humming to himself. A man of around Cassius’s age was lurking behind the innkeeper’s cart, anxiously scratching his chin. Judging by his tunic, he was a working man.
When they walked over to him, the stranger nodded at the sword. ‘No – no – no – no need for that.’ As well as the stammer, he seemed to be afflicted by some eye disease: both were red and one was weeping.
Cassius also spoke in Greek. ‘I was told you have some information for me. About what?’
‘M – m – m – money first.’
‘Money for what?’
The stranger kept glancing at the street, as if wary of being seen. ‘Important – it – it’s important.’
‘How do I know if …’ Cassius shrugged. ‘Very well. A denarius.’
The stranger wiped his weeping eye and held up five fingers.
‘We’ll call it two.’
‘Fi – five. Important, important.’
‘The man said two.’ Indavara took the coins from Cassius and walked behind the stranger, so that he was blocking his path to the street. ‘Wouldn’t even think about taking them and running, would you?’
The Syrian shook his head. Indavara gave him the coins. The man slipped them inside his tunic.
‘Well?’ said Cassius. ‘You can start with your name.’
The man shook his head again. ‘No – no – need. I work round here.’
‘And – this information?’
‘Yes – yes – yesterday night. A man was asking about you. Asking about a Roman ar – ar – army officer.’
Cassius felt that familiar nausea. ‘Asking what?’
‘Wh – wh – where-’
‘Where I was staying? Did you tell him?’
‘No, no. I – I like the army. Want – want – wanted to join. But he still paid me. To – to – to keep quiet.’
‘Did he ask anything else?’
The stranger shook his head.
‘What did he look like?’
‘Av – av – average height, s – s – strong looking. Not much hair. Shor – short sword, like the old army.’
‘Have you seen him around here since?’
‘No.’
Cassius took a moment to absorb this. ‘If you see him again, you’ll tell us?’
‘Yes.’
‘All right. Thank you.’
Indavara moved aside. The Syrian wiped his eyes again then hurried away.
Cassius walked on to the street, where the low sun cast long shadows. He was less interested in the stranger than the apartment blocks and townhouses opposite the inn. There were dozens of windows and several alleyways from where the inn could be observed. He returned inside with Indavara.
‘What are you thinking?’ asked the bodyguard.
‘He said yesterday. So it can’t be anything to do with what happened today. It’s possible that someone in the city knew I was coming: the counterfeiters even or-’
‘Same bunch that went for you in Bostra?’
Cassius stopped and leant back against the wall. ‘Gods. Could they really have tracked me this far?’
‘It’s good that we’re leaving.’
‘I’ll get a note to Quentin – make sure he tells no one where we’re going. And we can’t tell Neokles or the girls either, got it?’
‘Of course.’
Cassius was in desperate need of a drink. ‘I don’t suppose I’ll sleep a bloody wink now.’
‘Maybe we should stay up,’ said Indavara, tapping the sheathed sword against his leg. ‘They probably know you’re in here by now. Probably watching the place. What about trying to get to them before they get to you?’
They decided to wait until the third hour of night. Cassius limited himself to two large mugs of unwatered wine and, despite Simo’s protestations, was unable to swallow a single morsel. The thought of being hunted by this mysterious foe (or foes) had twisted his stomach into knots. But, like Indavara, he was not prepared to sit around and wait for the bastards to come and get him.
While Simo was dusting off Cassius’s dark brown hooded cape, Indavara walked into the bedroom. ‘I was thinking – might not be the lot from Bostra. You had already been to the mint and the basilica when this man was sniffing around.’
‘It is possible, I agree. But it would have been damned quick work and Berytus is looking like a more probable base for the counterfeiters. I think it’s the same group.’ Cassius glanced at the figurines. ‘By the great gods, what could they want with me?’
‘At least we know they’re here,’ said Indavara, ‘thanks to our nervous friend.’
‘That was damned strange in itself.’
‘You don’t trust him?’
‘On balance, I do – mainly because it was so strange.’
‘Sword.’ Cassius took it from Simo and hung the belt from his shoulder so that the hilt was over his left hip. The attendant then draped the cape over him and tied the clasp at the neck.
‘So what’s the plan?’
Indavara – whose only garment with a hood was a thick cloak – already looked hot. ‘We can start a few hundred yards out then work our way inwards. See if anyone’s watching this place.’
‘Sounds sensible. We’ll have to keep an eye out for watchmen but this will be enough to keep them off our backs.’ Cassius had a badge pinned to his tunic – a two-inch silver replica of the spearhead. ‘Simo, I doubt we’ll be more than an hour or two. Keep an eye out.’
‘Yes, sir.’
In the corridor they passed Neokles, who was coming in from the yard clutching laundry.
‘Good evening, Centurion.’
‘Evening,’ said Cassius. ‘Just off for a stroll.’
Once outside, they crossed the courtyard. As they approached the street, Cassius glanced back at the inn. Through the grille of one of the downstairs windows he could see Kitra and Hanina working by lamplight. Both were bending over washing tubs, the front of their tunics already wet. Indavara stood beside him and they watched Kitra work, her plump breasts quivering.
‘By Jupiter, I’ve seldom seen better.’
‘I’ve seldom kissed better,’ said Indavara.
‘Lucky sod.’
Having identified themselves to a pair of curious watchmen, they began the search, circling the inn and gradually getting closer. They stopped whenever they found what looked like a decent position but the large apartment block opposite obscured most views of the inn’s courtyard and entrance. The first really feasible location was a strip of waste ground between two houses. It was on the opposite side of the road from the inn, fifty yards farther up the hill.
Cassius and Indavara reached the corner of a walled townhouse and inspected the waste ground. There was a little moonlight but not enough to illuminate anyone who might be lurking there. The ground was patched with rubble and bushes that might provide enough cover for a skilful spy.
‘Let’s just watch and wait,’ Cassius whispered.
After ten minutes, he concluded that if anyone was there they were completely still and silent. ‘We can’t stand here all night.’
‘Agreed.’ Indavara put a hand on his sword then rounded the corner and walked straight across the strip of ground. Cassius stayed on his heels, paying particular attention to the bushes. They saw and heard nothing.
‘We’ll keep moving,’ said Cassius. ‘If they’re anywhere they’ll be round here.’
Next to the waste ground were two more walled townhouses, both with locked gates. A check of the alley that ran between them yielded nothing and the pair moved on again. Next came a trio of smaller houses, then the big apartment block.
Cassius looked at the two shadowy passageways beneath the building. ‘If it were me, I’d be in one of those.’
‘What about coming in from the back?’ suggested Indavara.