Cosmas glanced back at Cassius, who realised this was not something the sergeant could simply ignore.
‘Do what you have to.’
‘There are a lot of them,’ continued Arpagius. ‘And they’ve been drinking.’
Cassius reckoned he might well regret this decision but it didn’t seem fair to leave the helpful Cosmas to it. ‘We’ll come along too.’
‘Thank you.’
With that they set off after Arpagius and soon saw the commotion up ahead. About a dozen men had gathered around a cart and were throwing stones at a smaller group cowering in front of a dwelling.
‘Who’s this Celer, anyway?’ asked Cassius, holding his sword hilt as he ran.
‘Owns one of the factories,’ explained Cosmas. ‘Not a particularly popular man.’
As the five of them slowed down, the men by the cart all turned.
Cassius almost laughed. Every one of them was wearing an identical actor’s mask, each painted brown with an oversize nose and a surprised expression. Some were holding wineskins, others handfuls of stones which had obviously come from the wooden boxes in the cart.
On the other side of the street, a well-dressed gentleman, his wife and two young boys were huddled in a doorway. Each child was gripping one of their mother’s legs. She was a good deal younger than her husband; an overweight fellow, whose eyes were wide with fear and rage. Slumped against the wall close by was a tall man nursing a bleeding nose; presumably the bodyguard.
One of the more inebriated ‘actors’ bellowed something indecipherable at the new arrivals.
‘Oh, look, the young un’s back with some help,’ said another.
Cosmas walked straight up to the men. ‘City sergeant. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll disperse.’
‘I know what’s good for me, thanks, shorty,’ replied one of them, slurping down wine and earning a few laughs from his mates.
‘They are very, very drunk,’ said Simo.
‘I know,’ replied Cassius.
But not all of them. One man dropped his handful of stones and squared up to Cosmas. ‘Don’t tell me you’re going to protect this arsehole? He’s the most hated man in Berytus.’
Celer tried to move away from the doorway. A stone thrown by one of the men pinged off the plaster above him. One of the little boys squealed.
‘Animals!’ screeched the mother.
Celer retreated and pulled his family towards him.
The man who’d thrown the stone was still laughing when the end of Indavara’s stave tapped the nose of his mask. He turned to look at the bodyguard, eyes bloodshot and glassy.
‘Don’t do that again.’
The man backed away but another wasn’t so easily dissuaded. He held the handle of his sheathed dagger and moved in front of his friend.
‘Or what?’
‘Or I’ll give you such a beating you’ll need that mask to hide your tears.’
‘Easy,’ said Cassius quietly, walking past Indavara to stand by Cosmas. As Arpagius joined them, he noticed that quite a crowd was gathering to their right.
‘Fun’s over, lads,’ said Cosmas. ‘Disperse now and we’ll say no more about it. Don’t make it worse for yourselves.’
The leader pointed at Celer. ‘That greedy pig gets richer every day while our families starve. There’s no justice to be had in Berytus. The sergeants and the courts and the likes of him are all in it together.’
‘Starving, eh?’ said Cassius. ‘But clearly not thirsty.’
‘Who are you?’
‘A friend of the sergeant here. I suggest you move along or this matter will be in the hands of the magistrate before midday.’
‘Twelve actors causing trouble?’ said the leader. ‘Magistrate’s not going to get far with his investigation, is he?’
His compatriots chuckled.
‘Actually there are thirteen of you,’ said Cassius. ‘And when I describe this incident I will replace “actors” with “suspects” and include the following description.’
Cassius kept his eyes on the leader as he recited what he had observed of the men, starting with Indavara’s friend to the left. ‘Suspect number one: height five feet, six inches, stocky build, wearing a pale brown tunic with a spear-symbol belt-buckle. Suspect number two: height five feet, eight inches, slim build, red tunic, trident tattoo on right calf. Suspect number three’ – this was the leader himself – ‘height five feet, eleven inches, slim build, brass ring on right hand, pale blue tunic, iron belt-buckle, a trace of the Roman slums in his accent. Demeanour: unpleasant.’
Two of the men had already sloped away. ‘Come on, Ravilla.’
Cassius smiled. ‘And name: Ravilla.’
Indavara laughed.
The leader threw a glare at his indiscreet associate. All the others were now on the move.
‘Our day will come,’ he said, making sure his mask still covered his face as he left.
‘Not today,’ said Cassius.
‘Move along!’ shouted Arpagius at the crowd, which was already breaking up.
Cassius and Cosmas walked across the street to Norbanus Celer. His wife was wiping her eyes, still watching the ‘actors’. The younger of the two boys was snivelling; the older lad was offering his mother a handkerchief.
‘My thanks,’ said Celer, straightening up and trying to regain his composure.
Cosmas said, ‘Sir, with respect, I’m not sure you and your family should be out on the streets at the moment. Tensions are running rather high.’
‘So now I cannot visit the temple? I must skulk around as if I have done something wrong?’
‘Those men will be dealt with, sir.’
‘They damn well better be. I will be writing to Pomponianus immediately. The nerve of these gutter rats.’
‘Perhaps if you paid your workers a little more.’
Cassius hadn’t realised Indavara had joined them. When he caught his eye, the bodyguard simply shrugged.
Celer gritted his teeth. ‘And who in Hades are you to tell a councillor of Berytus his business?’
‘My bodyguard,’ explained Cassius hastily. ‘Please ignore him. Now, I suggest we escort you to a safe place immediately. Where is close?’
The young wife tugged on her husband’s toga and whispered something.
Celer nodded. ‘My uncle’s townhouse is nearby. Let me be clear – I want those ruffians in chains by the end of the day.’
‘We will do what we can, sir,’ said Cosmas. ‘Come now.’
Simo and Arpagius had helped the bodyguard to his feet and the wife had finally managed to prise the frightened boy off her leg. As they set off along the street, Cassius dropped back to walk alongside Indavara.
‘Was that really necessary?’
‘Is anyone else going to say it to him? Certainly not you.’
The lizard scampered ahead of the deputy magistrate and disappeared into a crack in the ground.
‘At this rate, Officer, I shall have to ask Pomponianus to offer you a job.’ Diadromes – arriving his customary half-hour late – strode up to Cassius and shook his forearm. The trio were waiting for him outside the sergeants’ headquarters; a quiet spot where Cosmas had assured them they would not be disturbed. The sergeant was currently off dealing with both the Celer incident and the Gorgos investigation.
‘Not an entirely unappealing prospect,’ said Cassius.
‘What about you, Indavara?’ said Diadromes. ‘I heard you helped your master put these thugs right.’
Again, the bodyguard shrugged.
‘Anyway,’ said Diadromes, joining Cassius in the shade. ‘Cosmas tells me you have an idea.’
‘Indeed. I can see no efficient way of searching premises that might be of interest to us without arousing suspicion and alerting this gang. But I may have a way of forcing them to break cover without knowing they are our real targets. That’s if they are here, of course.’
‘Go on.’
‘You will be aware that there’s been a lot of talk about Egyptian spies heading north to track the Emperor’s forces.’