‘People also need to feed their children.’
Simo was nodding. He desisted when he realised Cassius was watching him.
The magistrate’s residence was an impressive townhouse surrounded by a substantial wall painted pale red. Cassius didn’t want to draw attention to himself but there was no choice other than to approach the main entrance and the four city sergeants armed with hefty wooden clubs. Thankfully the guards were expecting him and opened the gate as soon as he gave his (false) name.
A servant was summoned who then escorted them to a side door, past shaped swards of grass and an elaborate fountain where – despite the season – water still flowed. Half a dozen gardeners were at work weeding and trimming the turf. The servant asked Cassius to wait under a cool portico, then trotted inside. While he drank from his flask, Simo told Indavara about the different varieties of flowers populating the beds between the townhouse and the wall. From within the house came the sound of giggling children.
After about five minutes the servant returned with a tall, brawny man dressed in a fine linen tunic. He looked to be about forty and sported several bracelets and an ostentatious belt-buckle. He was smiling and already had his arm outstretched.
‘Officer Crispian, good day to you, and welcome to Berytus. No, I am not Magistrate Pomponianus.’
They shook forearms. ‘Deputy Magistrate Diadromes. There are three deputies in Berytus. My area of responsibility is trade and commerce, which is why the magistrate asked me to speak with you. He is rather occupied today but I’m sure you’ll meet at some point.’
‘Ah,’ said Cassius. ‘Good day.’
Diadromes already struck him as unusual. Vulgar displays of wealth were rare among city bureaucrats and his accent and manner of speech were rather reminiscent of a street trader.
The deputy magistrate turned his attention to Indavara and Simo. ‘Let me guess – bodyguard and attendant.’
‘Quite right.’
‘Good day.’
This, again, was unconventional, and caught the pair off guard. Even so, they both replied politely, Simo adding a bow.
‘Shall we walk or sit?’
‘I don’t mind,’ said Cassius.
Diadromes pointed at a long wooden bench shaded by the portico and facing the garden. ‘I wouldn’t mind taking the weight off – been traipsing round the cloth market all morning looking for fake silk, would you believe?’
Cassius followed him, noting the pronounced bald patch amid the deputy magistrate’s fuzzy brown hair.
‘So, counterfeiting?’ said the Syrian once they’d sat down.
‘We have good reason to believe a gang might be operating from Berytus. Firstly, none of their coins have – to our knowledge – been sighted here, which suggests they don’t want to draw attention to their centre of production. Secondly, the ex-caster that was spotted here last week.’
‘Well, you’re right about the coins. The letter from your man Quentin was passed to me a while back – I’ve had people checking but no, nothing so far. I must confess I didn’t know about this caster until today – you have the name?’
‘No.’
Diadromes reached into a pocket sewn into his tunic (again, not something most gentlemen would have) and pulled out a scrap of paper.
‘Lucius Sepercius Florens. He was seen by a man from the procurator’s staff who had worked with him back in Italy. There’s a description here too.’ Diadromes gave Cassius the note.
‘Average height and build, cropped grey hair – not massively helpful. Have any enquiries been made?’
‘Yes. No reference to him has emerged yet, though of course it’s doubtful he would risk using his own name, even this far east.’
‘It is essential that we find him. There are no other leads.’
‘I must tell you that Berytus has never had a significant problem with counterfeiting. But we will of course assist your investigation.’
‘Much appreciated. Apart from checking records, what else can be done?’
Diadromes grinned. ‘As you may have gathered, I do not come from money. My father was a freedman and I worked up to this post from second assistant inspector of municipal drainage.’
Cassius couldn’t stop himself chuckling.
‘It’s true – that really was my job. In any case, one of my later posts in the magistrate’s office was chief of criminal investigations. If I and my staff can’t help you, no one can.’
‘Excellent. Can I ask – who else knows I’m here?’
‘The magistrate and my two fellow deputies. That’s all.’
‘I would very much like it to stay that way.’
‘Of course. I will use my most trusted man, Cosmas. He can put Florens’ name out on the streets, see if anything turns up.’
‘As you say, chances are he’s not using it but we must still try.’
‘Indeed. And of course he may have just been passing through.’ Diadromes scratched his forehead. ‘What if I have Cosmas ask about counterfeiting in general? Nobody need know that the enquiry came from you or the Service. As we’ve been checking for the fake coins there’ll be some talk on the streets about it anyway. Cosmas is very discreet.’
‘Very well.’
‘He can also act as a liaison between us.’
‘Good. Thank you.’
Diadromes stood. ‘I’m afraid I must be going. My afternoon will be even busier than my morning.’
‘I saw the weavers’ protest,’ said Cassius as he straightened up. ‘A concern for the magistrate, I imagine.’
‘A concern for us all,’ said Diadromes gravely, causing Cassius to wonder how he might view the dispute. ‘Where can I find you?’
‘I’m staying at an inn over by the north gate – the Dolphin.’
‘I know it.’
‘It’ll do for the moment but if we have to stay for a while I might need to rent. Somewhere secure.’
‘Surely you’re not that worried about this gang?’
Cassius chose his words carefully. ‘Unfortunately, we in the Service occasionally make enemies. Enemies who sometimes seek revenge.’
Diadromes glanced along the portico. ‘I see. Hence the need for your muscular friend.’
‘Quite.’
‘I own many properties. One in particular might suit your needs.’
‘Ah.’
‘I would be happy to provide it to you free of charge.’ It sounded less a statement than a question.
‘Yes?’
‘The thing is, you may also be able to help me, Officer Crispian. A rather sensitive matter, but as a Service man I think you are exceptionally well placed to offer assistance.’
‘If I can help, I will.’
Diadromes looked rather happy. ‘This is neither the time nor the place to discuss it. Would you like to meet for dinner this evening? I know a nice place right next to the Temple of Aphrodite. Shall we say the eleventh hour?’
‘Eleventh it is.’
XII
Cassius drove the sword straight at Indavara’s face. The bodyguard swatted it away and shifted his position with a single movement. As the pair circled each other, the horses at the other end of the stable snorted and puffed.
‘Trying to get the sun in my eyes, eh?’ said Cassius, careful with his footing on the slippery straw.
Indavara had moved in front of the wide doorway. ‘I don’t need any tricks to see you off but you should still be prepared for them.’
‘Indeed. You are …’
Instead of finishing the sentence, Cassius leaped forward and jabbed the wooden sword towards Indavara’s groin. The bodyguard stepped back and swung his own weapon down into a block. But Cassius had already flicked the sword upward. Even though Indavara threw his head back, the tip scratched his chin.
‘Hah!’ Cassius raised his arms in triumph. ‘I got you! After all these bouts, all these hours, I finally got you. Simo, Simo …’
‘He left, remember?’ Indavara touched his chin; the contact hadn’t drawn blood.
‘Don’t deny that I got you,’ said Cassius, pointing at him with blade and finger. ‘I got you.’