Simo gave a large loaf to Elder Cobon, who handed it to the afflicted man. He nodded vigorously then scuttled away towards the warehouse with his prize.
‘Indarus.’
‘Indavara.’
‘Behind us,’ said Bromidus, ‘they’re getting closer. I can hear them.’
‘This way too.’ The light was perhaps only twenty feet away now; Indavara could see the fingers on the candle and the face above it.
Cobon and the others had retreated, unsure what to do. There were now at least a dozen of the paupers on the ground, tearing loaves from the sack and each other.
Indavara pulled Simo away. ‘Get ready to move.’
Cobon and others heard him and turned.
‘You go forward,’ said Bromidus. ‘I’ll watch the rear.’
Indavara pulled the stave from his back and held it in both hands.
The candle had stopped. Above it was a narrow face and a fearful expression.
Indavara took three steps towards the man. ‘Who are you?’
The stranger answered in Latin. ‘Food. Do you have food?’
‘Who are you?’
Bromidus moved up beside Indavara. ‘Come forward. Show yourself.’
The man was not alone. As others appeared behind him his candle flickered and went out. Bromidus snatched the lantern from Cobon and held it up.
‘Do you have food?’ repeated the stranger.
With him were a woman and several children, each as grubby and emaciated as their parents.
‘Please,’ said the man. ‘For them.’
Indavara moved aside as the Christians came forward with bread.
‘I know that accent,’ said Bromidus. ‘Palmyrans.’
Indavara followed him to the rear, where the legionary held the lantern up once more. ‘Who’s there? Show yourselves.’
Indavara heard sniffing, then a confused whine. The two dogs padded out hesitantly from behind a pile of timber. They were tall, leggy things, with not a lot of meat on their bones.
‘Gods,’ said Bromidus. ‘My nerves.’
Indavara looked around. The paupers seemed to have divided up their spoils and were now pleading with Cobon for the last sack. Indavara hurried over and took out two stale rolls then threw them to the dogs. They looked hungry too.
Back at the church-house, the women were busy with something inside. Indavara and Bromidus looked on as the men gathered in the yard, discussing what they had seen. Elder Cobon seemed keen to hear suggestions as to how else they might help the diseased paupers.
‘It wasn’t leprosy, Simo said so.’
‘Expert, is he?’ replied Bromidus with a sneer. ‘I tell you one thing, you won’t catch me round there again. Old Cobon’s never satisfied with just helping out – I swear he’d prefer to be down in the dirt with them if he could. He’s always telling us we must forget earthly trappings like food and clothes. Bloody ridiculous.’
‘Why bother coming, then?’
‘Told you – family. My mother’s taken ill with something bad. She and my father reckon we need to atone for our sins, do good deeds so that the Lord helps us. Personally, I can think of better ways of spending my leave.’
The legionary glanced at Cobon, still addressing his earnest followers. ‘Tell them I’ll be back when I can.’ Bromidus opened the courtyard door but then stopped. ‘What about you? Why are you here?’
Indavara didn’t have an answer for him.
The legionary left.
Indavara reckoned they should be getting back but Simo was still listening intently to Elder Cobon. He wandered along the side of the courtyard and up to the door to see what was going on – and to check if the young woman from before was there.
She wasn’t. There were five women, all gathered close to the hearth. Four of them were middle aged, one was little more than a girl. Indavara wondered why they had a fire going; it was still very warm. At an instruction from one of the older women, the girl went to fetch something. Indavara now realised that they were all standing around a table. He moved closer. Upon the table was a wooden tub, and inside was a little pink baby, the tiniest he had ever seen. One of the women was holding its head up while two of the others washed its little legs.
‘Beautiful, isn’t she?’ The woman on the the far side of the table had seen him watching. ‘Come closer if you want.’
Indavara didn’t move. He didn’t feel right standing there, nor did he know what to say. The woman dried her hands, then left the others and walked over to him. She was wearing a scarf over her hair and had a friendly smile.
‘Another one saved for the Lord.’
‘Saved?’
‘She is a foundling.’
‘A what?’
‘A baby left to die. We found her at the rubbish dump – that’s where they leave the ones they don’t want.’
‘Why?’
‘Sometimes because they don’t have the money. Or because of some physical imperfection – but not this one, though. Probably just because she is a girl. Another was not so fortunate.’
The woman closed her eyes and turned away for a moment.
‘What do you mean?’
‘The dogs. They got to him before us. We can’t be there all the time and the dump is so big. Sometimes we miss them. But at least we found her.’
As she walked back to the table the baby began to wail. Even though the little thing had been saved it sounded to Indavara like a cry of despair.
XXII
The eastern gate was a functional lump of dark grey stone adorned by some partially decorated columns and a lot of pigeon shit. The arch was on the narrow side but boasted a fearsome portcullis that could be raised and lowered by winch. There were two little rooms in the gatehouse, on either side of the road. One was used by the army, the other by staff from the procurator’s office. The senior tax collector on duty was accompanied by three assistants and two scribes. On this particular day, the army could boast only half their numbers: Cassius, Indavara and a one-legged guard officer named Matho.
Standing in the doorway, Cassius looked on as one of the two Egyptian slaves also assigned to the gatehouse shovelled horse manure into an amphora. While waiting for loads to be checked, horses, donkeys and mules continually voided their bowels and bladders on to the hexagonal flagstones. The tax collector, Sellic, called over the other slave to mop up a yellow pool of urine.
‘About average so far?’ Cassius asked over his shoulder. Matho was inside, resting his good leg on a stool and polishing some belt-buckles.
‘Let’s see. What’s come out? Er … about a dozen horses and mules, same number of carts? Yes, about average.’
Like Sellic, Matho had been told by Cosmas only that Cassius and Indavara were on special assignment for the army and the magistrate’s office. The gatehouse staff were to continue as normal for the day but render any assistance required. Sellic – clearly as fastidious as most in his profession – had insisted on seeing the written authorisation.
Taking care not to tarry beneath the portcullis, Cassius walked towards the city and looked up at the hazy sun, now well above even the highest buildings.
‘Must be in the second hour. Cosmas’s men will have been into quite a few places already. You all right?’
Indavara was squatting in the shadow of the arch, seemingly unconcerned by what was being cleaned up a few yards away. He was staring blankly at the opposite wall.
‘Indavara, you all right?’
The bodyguard gave a slight nod, then stood up and walked to the other side of the gatehouse. He looked out at the broad road that ran east, eventually reaching the lushly forested hills beneath the mountains.
‘Get your rolls! Get your loaves!’ bellowed a vendor. The gatehouse was a prime spot and the traders had set up outside well before dawn. A lot of their custom came from the farmers bringing in produce for the city’s markets. Plenty had already come through but Cassius had left them to Sellic and his men; he was interested only in traffic leaving Berytus.