‘I will consider that, of course,’ said Cassius, anxious to salvage some vague semblance of goodwill if he could.
Nemetorius gave him a final scowl then turned away.
‘Centurion,’ said Diadromes, ‘as you’re here, I wanted to ask about this man Ravilla. My office has heard nothing since you took custody of him yesterday.’
‘Rest assured we are working on that. Working on him, to be precise. We’ll have the others soon enough.’
Now Diadromes did seem dismayed. ‘Torture? Word will reach the people. It may enflame an already difficult situation.’
‘I will remind you, Deputy Magistrate, that I am only involved in these matters because Pomponianus feels his subordinates have lost control of the streets. You are one of those subordinates. Like your young grain man friend here, perhaps you too should remember your place.’
Cloak flicking up behind him, Nemetorius spun on his heels and set off, the expressionless legionaries falling in five paces behind.
‘A rather fiery character, our chief centurion,’ said Cassius.
The deputy magistrate would not be drawn. ‘This incident with Indavara was regrettable. A financial settlement is the best course of action.’
‘Would Legionary Scato see a coin of it?’
‘Yes. Nemetorius is impervious to such temptations. To his credit, he is concerned only with doing what he sees as his job; looking after his troops and assisting the magistrate.’
‘Pomponianus may be the senior official in Berytus but Nemetorius is a chief centurion – he needn’t answer to him.’
‘Ordinarily perhaps,’ said Diadromes, ‘but Nemetorius covets a place with other veteran officers in Rome.’
‘Ah, the urban cohort.’
‘Yes. And to even be considered he will need excellent reports from both the magistrate and the governor.’
‘Not to mention a reputation for being uncompromisingly strict and loyal.’
‘Quite, as you yourself have observed. In any case, neither of us can afford to offend him.’
‘I fear my very existence does that.’
‘Let us walk, I have been sitting in meetings all day.’
As they set off across the courtyard, a small flock of pigeons in another corner fluttered upward then settled on the roof. A quartet of clerks walked past, each holding large bundles of waxed tablets. They started talking again only when they were well clear of Diadromes.
‘Cosmas tells me your efforts at the gates were in vain.’
‘It appears so, though the inspections may yet yield something. It is possible that we have done nothing more than alert the gang – if they see through the spy story. It is really not going well.’
‘You are forgetting the contention that this “gang” was never here in the first place.’
‘I haven’t forgotten it. It is seeming more likely with every passing day.’
‘But you will continue your enquiries?’
‘For the moment, yes.’
‘You may keep Cosmas for as long as you need him.’
‘Thank you.’
Diadromes pushed his bracelets up his arm and grinned. ‘Despite what I said yesterday, my well of gratitude is not yet completely dry. My wife’s good mood shows no signs of abating.’
‘Lucky for me.’
They reached the rear gate of the basilica, where a pair of legionaries stood guard.
‘You are alone?’ asked Diadromes.
‘I thought it best to let Indavara calm down so Cosmas came with me. I left my horse at the stables.’
‘This threat you spoke of when we first met – any indication that you are in danger here?’
‘Not yet but-’
‘Come, I shall escort you to the stables.’
Once beyond the looming shadows of the basilica, they walked in bright sunlight across one corner of the forum towards the giant stables used daily by hundreds of city officials. They hadn’t gone far when a pair of elderly men each accompanied by a retinue of at least a dozen ceased their conversation to bid Diadromes a polite ‘good day’. Diadromes returned the greeting but kept moving.
‘Council members. If I were to engage them in conversation I’d be lucky to get away in time for dinner.’
‘Busy day?’
‘Oh yes. I doubt I shall get to the baths – again. By this evening I must sort out a dispute with a shipping agent about harbour fees, amend an urgent set of regulations about what is to be considered white bread and what is to be considered brown, and then there is the smuggling ring you uncovered. Plus tomorrow we have a trade delegation coming in from Hierapolis. They’ll expect to see the weaving factories but Pomponianus isn’t sure we should risk it – wouldn’t want another incident to upset the visitors.’
‘Gods. At least I only have one problem to deal with. Well, that and my impetuous bodyguard.’
‘Ex-gladiator, I presume?’
‘Indeed. Generally he’s fairly biddable but when it comes to the rough stuff he … doesn’t hold back.’
‘Thoroughbreds are often highly strung. But please keep him under control. If your name comes to Pomponianus’ attention again, he may decide to take more of a personal interest in your presence here.’
As it was now mid-afternoon, the stables were quiet. The younger lads were gathered outside, throwing walnuts into a clay pot. But one enterprising type was keeping a close eye out for potential tips and hurried over to Cassius.
‘Fetch your mount for you, sir?’
‘Certainly. Name’s Crispian.’
‘Won’t be a minute, sir.’ The lad sped away.
‘Deputy Magistrate!’ A young groom who had just emerged from the stalls ran up. He was wearing a long apron covered in horsehair.
‘By Jupiter, here we go,’ murmured Diadromes.
More grooms came out of the stables to see what was going on.
The young man bowed to Diadromes. ‘Good day, sir.’
‘Good day, Sorio.’
‘Sir, what’s to happen to Ravilla? Is Nemetorius going to have him flogged? Or worse?’
‘I have no idea.’
‘You won’t let them kill him, will you, sir? Not for throwing a few stones.’
Cassius withdrew; he didn’t need this much attention. Diadromes didn’t particularly seem to be enjoying it either. More grooms had arrived and the boys had abandoned their game.
‘That is a matter for the magistrate and the courts.’
Sorio wasn’t the only one with questions:
‘Why’s the army got him, sir?’
‘When will he be punished?’
‘What does the magistrate think?’
‘You know what that Celer’s like, don’t you, sir?’
The grooms had pressed in around the deputy magistrate quickly.
Diadromes remained calm. ‘Now listen, lads. We can’t have people assaulting women and children in the street. You all know that. The sergeants did their job and Centurion Nemetorius too. Back to the stables with you now.’
‘It’s you should be magistrate, sir,’ said Sorio. Some of the others cheered.
‘You’re very kind but I’m too busy with my present post to stand for election.’
‘Down with Pomponianus,’ shouted someone.
‘Now,’ said Diadromes sternly. ‘Let’s have none of that. We all want what’s best for Berytus.’
‘Not Celer,’ said another. ‘He wants what’s best for him. The rest of ’em aren’t any better. There’s only you what knows the life of a working man.’
‘Look, lads, I don’t have time for this now. But I’ll ask you to stay away from these protests. I wouldn’t want any of you getting into trouble.’
‘It’s the weavers you have to worry about there, sir,’ said Sorio. ‘Never known them so angry.’
‘Everyone just needs to calm down,’ said Diadromes. ‘Besides, it’s too bloody hot to get agitated. Oh, did I tell you this one – man goes to the surgeon. “Sir, sir, everyone keeps ignoring me.” “Next, please!” “Sir, sir, have you got anything for a headache?” The surgeon gives him a hammer. “Try this.” “Sir, sir, I keep thinking I’m a dog.” “Sit on that chair and we’ll talk about it.” “I can’t, I’m not allowed on the chair.”’
Cassius thought this a rather desperate manoeuvre but by the time the Syrian had rattled off half a dozen more japes, the grooms were too busy laughing to pester him. With a wink at Cassius, Diadromes bade the young men farewell and headed back towards the basilica. Cassius heard a few complaints about how he hadn’t really listened to them as he went to meet the lad with his horse. He gave a good tip, mounted up and rode for the nearest street; he didn’t intend to stop for anything.