He kept up a swift pace until they were well beyond the city gates, then cantered on until he saw a bit of clear ground. Once off the road, he halted in the shade provided by a stand of cedars. He dismounted and looped his reins around a low branch.
‘This isn’t the place, is it?’ asked Indavara.
‘Just tether your horse.’
Despite a shake of the head, the bodyguard did so.
Simo stopped a little farther back and roped his mount to a milestone. Though he walked over to the others immediately it seemed to Cassius that he was dragging his feet.
‘Hurry up, you useless sod.’
Soon the two of them were standing side by side; Simo with his eyes fixed on the ground, Indavara with his arms crossed.
‘Can either of you explain to me why I was left alone in the middle of a crowded street?’
‘Corbulo, it was only for a moment.’
‘We’ve been over this before. What is your job?’
Indavara ran his tongue around his mouth and looked at the trees.
‘I’ll help you – bodyguard. How can you guard me if you’re twenty yards back doling out coins to urchins?’
‘Fair point.’
‘And you?’
Simo was still looking at the ground.
‘Sometimes I think you really do want me to let you go. And don’t think I haven’t noticed the little protests – stale bread for lunch, the creases in my tunic. Not very subtle. Well, nothing to say?’
‘I apologise, Master Cassius. But the poor children.’
Cassius walked up to him. ‘Look at me.’
Simo – who was only an inch shorter than his master – did so. Cassius knew that broad face better than any other and, though he tried, the Gaul could not quite conceal his anger and frustration.
‘I think I have arrived at the conclusion that you will not remain in my employ beyond my time in the army. I will allow you to buy your freedom. Then you can do what you want; pledge your life to “good deeds” if you wish. But while you belong to me, you will do exactly as I tell you or you will be gone. Sold.’ Cassius clicked his fingers. ‘Like that.’
He pointed at Indavara. ‘We all three of us know you are only here because of him. He will not persuade me a second time.’
Cassius put his hand on the Gaul’s shoulder. ‘Please do not force me into a decision I do not want to make.’
Simo’s expression softened but he said nothing.
Cassius walked back to his horse. ‘Quickly. We’re already late.’
The hamlet lay at the bottom of a gorge; little more than a dozen dwellings and a water mill. The settlement was next to one of the few navigable sections of the river that ran from the coastal plain through the mountains and into the Bekaa valley, much of it underground. Today, the mill’s wheel was still; there didn’t seem to be much water flowing past.
‘The Eleutherus,’ said Cassius as they passed a few curious villagers. ‘The proper name for the “Dog River”.’
‘Where we saw the statue on the way to Tripolis,’ said Indavara.
‘That’s right.’ Cassius pointed north-west. ‘The mouth is only a few miles that way.’
‘Think there’s much water up there?’
‘Probably not a lot at this time of year.’
Looming over the gorge was Berytus’s main aqueduct; a huge three-layer structure built of the local pale limestone. The bottom two layers were similarly high, with broad arches spanning fifty feet. The top was much smaller and supported the water channel. Cassius estimated that it was at least a hundred and fifty feet above the river. Some kind of work was going on; labourers were walking along the top and dozens of rope ladders had been hung from the arches.
As promised, Cosmas was waiting by the mill. He had his own mount but the other five sergeants with him were on a cart: two at the front, three in the back. Every man was armed with sword and club. They seemed as curious as the villagers.
‘Morning,’ said Cosmas, a long piece of grass hanging out of his mouth.
‘Good day,’ replied Cassius. ‘I see you’re not taking any chances.’
‘I found out that the brothers did six months’ hard labour up in Sidon for horse-thieving a couple of years ago. Probably not an experience they’re keen to repeat. I’ll tell them we only want them for questioning but they may try and run.’
‘Where’s the house?’
Cosmas pointed at a narrow, winding road that led eastward up out of the gorge. ‘Close to the top. Presumably you’d like to talk to them back at headquarters?’
‘Yes.’
‘Let’s get up there, then.’
Ignoring an elderly local who’d come over to ask what was going on, Cosmas spat out the grass and set off up the road. Cassius waited for the cart to get some distance ahead, then followed.
‘Why stay so far back?’ asked Indavara.
‘Look how steep the road is. Once when I was in Rome with my father, I saw two yoked mounts falter close to the top of a hill just like this. The cart was overloaded. The horses lost their footing and when the whole thing began to slide back the driver had no choice but to jump off. The cart tumbled all the way down the hill and fell apart. Both horses were killed and one unfortunate who couldn’t get out of the way had his leg crushed. My father had kept us well back, so we had plenty of time to get clear.’
Indavara conceded with a nod. ‘I don’t like riding. And I think horses don’t like us riding them.’
‘The way you do it? Probably not.’
Indavara ignored him.
‘The gods gave them to us for a reason,’ added Cassius. ‘And they’re not good for much else.’
An attempt had been made to enclose the road but the stone blocks disappeared after a quarter of a mile. Towards the top of the gorge, some of the land had been terraced and various crops planted in the sandy soil. For a moment Cassius thought they were being watched until he realised the observer was in fact a scarecrow.
As the slope began to level out, Cosmas and the cart halted just before a ninety-degree bend in the road. While the driver got down and steadied the horses, Cosmas gathered the others and walked back to Cassius.
‘Can your man stay and help with the mounts? I’d like to take four if I can.’
‘Certainly.’ Cassius waved Simo forward then dismounted and passed him his reins.
The sergeants’ clubs were not as long or thick as Indavara’s stave, but one end was reinforced by a bundle of thinner rods strapped together. For centuries a symbol of the magistrate’s power to punish, what they lacked in subtlety they made up for with impact. Indavara also had his sword, as did Cassius, who noticed a couple of the sergeants eyeing the eagle head. He had instructed Cosmas to tell them he was an undercover army officer, nothing more.
The Syrian sergeant was both the smallest and the oldest of the six. He carried no club, just a short sword even more basic and roughly cast than Indavara’s. Looped around his belt were some lengths of rope.
‘A hundred yards beyond the bend is their property – to the left. It’s their mother’s place. We can come in along their front wall. If they’re up and about, which I doubt, we’ll just go straight for them. If they’re inside, I’ll take the front door with Cantaber and Arius. Vespilo and Gessius, you come in the back.’
‘Any dogs?’ asked one of the men.
Cosmas shook his head.
‘Need us for anything?’ asked Indavara keenly.
‘Maybe just cover the road, in case they make a run for it.’
The bodyguard looked disappointed.
‘I think we can manage that,’ said Cassius. Holding the hilt of his sword, he jogged along with Indavara as they followed the sergeants up to and around the bend. Just before they ducked into the cover of the wall, Cassius glimpsed the dwelling; a low, shabby farmhouse with several tiles missing from the roof.
The only noise was the quiet slap of their boots as they approached the gateless entrance. Cosmas stopped and squatted down, then peered around the wall. Indavara moved up beside Cassius, stave in hand.
Cosmas pointed at two of his men. They ran through the entrance and around to the back of the dwelling, disturbing some hens that pranced away, squawking and shedding feathers. Cosmas and the two remaining men ran to the front.