‘Something to eat, sir?’
‘Roll. Any cheese?’
‘Goat’s.’
‘That’ll do. And a few of those pickled onions – I won’t be breathing on any ladies today, more’s the pity.’
Cassius watched Simo putting his breakfast together, his thoughts drifting back to Delkash. After he’d given him the plate, Simo poured more milk into his master’s mug then leaned against the table.
‘That weaver, sir – the one the centurion took away. What do you think happened to him?’
‘Nothing pleasant.’
‘Berytus does seem to have its share of problems.’
‘We are interested only in one of them. I do wish you and Indavara would remember that.’
Cassius put down the onion in his hand and looked up at the Gaul. ‘If you had the eyes of a god – any god – you would see arguments and fighting and cruelty and death in every part of the world. From the deserts of Arabia to the Pillars of Hercules. You two think only of what you see in front of you, as if to help one man is to help every man.’
‘That is precisely what the Faith teaches us, sir.’
Cassius picked up the onion, then dropped it again. ‘Do you or Indavara ever think about what I have done? In Arabia or here in Syria with the Persian flag – I helped to avert a war. What better way is there to prevent suffering and death? You could spend half a century throwing brass at beggars and you would never match that.’
Simo – though clearly surprised – nodded.
‘I’m proud of it,’ added Cassius. ‘And considering how you both helped me, you should be proud too.’
‘I suppose he has a point,’ said Indavara. ‘But you must always remember, Simo – Corbulo doesn’t know what it is to go hungry, or be beaten, or imprisoned. He is not the worst of his kind, not by a long way. But he thinks only of himself.’
Simo stopped in the middle of the darkened street. ‘I shouldn’t be doing this. We shouldn’t.’
‘Come on. Corbulo is safe in that tower and we’ll only be a couple of hours. Why would he suspect anything?’
Simo waited for a gang of labourers to pass. They were lugging huge amphoras full of something and muttering complaints and oaths with every step.
‘It’s the lying, the deceit. The Faith tells us we must respect our masters, do their bidding.’
‘Well, you’ve already deceived him once, now twice. Might as well make the most of it.’ Indavara put a hand on Simo’s arm and coaxed him onward. ‘What’s happening tonight anyway?’
‘Elder Cobon wants to get some food to those people in the area where we were attacked last time.’
‘Stubborn old boy, isn’t he?’
‘Determined. We cannot simply give up in the face of adversity. Those people need our help.’
‘And your people need a bit of security.’
‘I expect that legionary will be there too. You did leave all the blades at the tower?’
Indavara was armed only with his stave. ‘I did, though I can’t say I’m happy about it.’
Once again, they met at the church-house, where Indavara counted fourteen people present. Elder Cobon first spoke to the women, who departed immediately, apparently with their own separate task.
While Simo and the others filled sacks with bread, Cobon took Indavara aside and introduced him to the legionary. A man of around thirty named Bromidus, he didn’t seem particularly keen to be there. It took Cobon a while to persuade him to leave his dagger behind and take only a cudgel. The old man asked them both to use minimum force if the party was attacked. As he departed, the pair exchanged a cynical look.
Indavara asked the stocky legionary – who was wearing nothing to mark him out as a soldier – if he’d helped the group before.
‘Few times,’ Bromidus replied morosely, sipping from a small flask of wine.
‘Why?’
‘Family. We must all do our bit for the Faith.’
‘You are part of the city garrison?’
‘Last three years.’
Indavara knew there weren’t that many Christians in the army. ‘Is it difficult, with the other soldiers?’
‘It might be if I told them.’
Bromidus left him in a corner, joining the other men as they formed a circle. They clasped their hands together and bowed their heads as Elder Cobon delivered a short prayer.
Indavara looked on and hoped there wouldn’t be any trouble. He wanted to keep coming to this place and helping the Christians. There was a simplicity to it; people were hungry, you gave them food. He was sure Corbulo would consider it pointless but surely even he couldn’t dispute that it was better than doing nothing.
Cobon sent the others outside while he locked up, then led them away. Even though it was another warm, humid night, Bromidus wore a cape with a hood which he immediately pulled up. Nobody spoke as they followed Cobon on what seemed to Indavara like a rather indirect route. Twice they waited in the shadows for city sergeants to pass, which elicited quiet curses from Bromidus. At one point they came close to the soaring walls of the theatre, from which muted cheers and laughter rang out.
Later, Indavara overheard the others talking; apparently their destination was an area known as ‘back of the taverns’. They passed one brightly lit street where drunks lurched about and customers gathered at well-stocked counters and steaming grills. Indavara felt his stomach rumble at the smell of cooking meat.
Despite the roundabout route, Cobon clearly knew exactly where he was going. As the streets grew darker and the smells became far less pleasant, Indavara glanced at the surrounding buildings. Many were in disrepair, most seemed unoccupied. Cobon halted at a particularly gloomy corner and a message came back that they should watch their footing.
They turned left into a narrow alley. After only a few paces Indavara heard Bromidus trip and curse – loudly this time. Soon the harsh odour of burned wood overtook all others and they reached a more open area illuminated by the half-moon.
Here was another ruin, this one of timber. The warehouse was very long and would have been high too had the roof and a good portion of the walls not collapsed.
‘Careful, all of you,’ said Cobon.
One man with a lantern opened the shutter wide, casting a fuzzy glow over a patch of ground cluttered by foundation stones and planks painted black. There was no fire but Indavara could already hear people on the move. Cobon and the others looked towards an inky opening in the side of the warehouse. Four figures appeared, whispering to one another as they approached. Cobon took the lantern and held it up. The men blinked and turned away from the light. Their faces were as grimy as their clothes and two had livid lesions upon their skin. They were bearded and very dark, and looked to Indavara like Arabians.
Bromidus spoke into his ear. ‘Stay well back. Might be lepers.’
Indavara hadn’t thought of that and swiftly resolved to follow the legionary’s advice.
Cobon was trying to speak to the paupers but they didn’t seem to understand.
‘Don’t know that tongue,’ said Bromidus. ‘Could be-’
The legionary seemed to have heard something. ‘Behind us?’
Indavara looked past him, back along the alley, but he could see nothing in the darkness. He heard Bromidus slip his cudgel from his belt and reached back to grab his stave.
The paupers advanced towards Cobon and the others with arms outstretched, desperate eyes fixed on the sacks of bread.
Then Indavara spied a light in the alleyway up ahead. It was faint, perhaps only a candle, but definitely coming towards them. ‘Look, Bromidus. There.’
‘I see it.’
By now Cobon had given one sack to the paupers but they were already fighting over it and more had come out of the warehouse. These men seemed to be older or weaker or both. One tripped in the melee, falling into the lantern’s glow. He had lost all his hair and one entire side of his face was covered in thick, crusty scabs. The others were cursing and spitting at him.