‘The likes of them can’t vote for magistrates; that’s decided by the council and the rest of the higher classes. Common people can vote only for the assembly, which is much less powerful, though it can influence the council to some extent. From what we’ve heard, I doubt Pomponianus pays it much attention.’
They took the next turn to the right and found themselves on a broad, porticoed avenue. Judging by the appearance of the citizens perusing the stores, this was clearly one of the more affluent areas of the city. A group of stonemasons were making some final modifications to a broad plinth in the middle of the avenue. Cassius noted from the plaque already mounted that it was to bear a statue of Aurelian himself.
‘Fourth one along?’ said Indavara.
‘That’s it,’ said Cassius, relieved when they entered the cool shade beneath the portico. They passed a carpet-maker, a mosaic-maker and a clothier before reaching the front of the building. On one side of the door was a glassed window offering a display of fine jewellery. Above it was a silver plaque so well polished that they could see their faces. It bore the name of the jeweller: Isagoras.
Cassius inspected the goods on offer: necklaces, bracelets, brooches, clasps, many of them inlaid with gems.
‘Not much bronze,’ observed Indavara.
‘True. But they may also make products for the cheaper end of the market.’
‘Want to look inside? You fit in very well around here.’
Cassius was still wearing his merchant’s outfit.
‘Not sure there’s much point. A jewellery-maker taking delivery of some bronze? Hardly unusual. Let’s get back to the headquarters, see if the others have got anywhere.’
Cosmas also had little to report. He’d arrived back before them and had trailed the last cart to a weapon-smiths. Like Isagoras the jewel-maker’s, this building had already been checked by the sergeants.
Gessius had more promising news, having left Vespilo monitoring the warehouse where their cart ended up. The driver had been admitted by a guard and departed half an hour later, the vehicle empty. A crew of five (presumably there for the unloading) had left shortly after, leaving only the guard. The warehouse was in an area close to the harbour and Gessius had found himself a decent observation point at a nearby inn.
‘Well,’ said Cassius, ‘hardly conclusive proof of nefarious activity but we must watch that warehouse.’
‘Unfortunately I can’t leave Vespilo there,’ said Cosmas. ‘He and Gessius here have other duties. I was only able to borrow them for today.’
‘In the absence of anything else even vaguely promising, we must find out where that bronze ends up.’
‘I’ll go now and watch the warehouse tonight,’ offered the sergeant. ‘If it’s still there tomorrow, perhaps you could take over?’
‘Oh, joy,’ said Cassius with a sigh. ‘Don’t worry, Cosmas. We’ll take our turn.’
XXV
They left the tower before dawn. As the city awoke, doors were opened, shutters latched, chamber pots emptied. Thin trails of smoke from scores of fires reached high into the pink sky.
Indavara had told Corbulo that Simo needed his help fetching some food before they went to meet Cosmas. Corbulo had listened to this with his eyes half open, then struggled out of bed and down the stairs to lock the tower door behind them.
Simo hardly spoke until they were nearing Berytus’s largest statue of the Emperor Hadrian, where Elder Cobon and his group had already gathered. The Gaul stopped in the shadows of an awning. ‘I should not be doing this. I should not have told you.’
Returning from the market the previous day, he’d confided to Indavara that he’d bumped into one of the Christians. Cobon had discovered another group of paupers living by a rubbish dump; the men would take provisions to them while the women again searched for abandoned babies.
Indavara wasn’t entirely sure himself why he wanted to go. He didn’t enjoy putting Simo through all this worry but it was something he felt he had to do. ‘I told you – he’s all talk.’
‘You can’t be certain of that.’
‘So what, then? You will have no part of this “good work”?’
‘I want to, but-’
‘Simo, they are waiting for us and we haven’t any time to waste. Come on.’
The dump was on the southern edge of Berytus, surrounded by a decrepit section of the old city walls, some ramshackle apartment buildings and two large encampments. Cobon had learned that one camp was occupied by more Palmyran refugees, the other by nomads from the Syrian desert. Bordering the dump was a dusty track and a shallow ditch filled with brown water. Several narrow paths led over earth bridges into the piles of refuse, which must have covered at least a square mile.
Elder Cobon stopped by one of the paths, where two lads with a handcart had just arrived to discard a mound of seashells. Cobon spoke to the men – all of whom were carrying sacks of food – and they set off towards the closest of the camps. Amongst the women was the one Indavara had spoken to at the church-house and the girl they’d met on the first visit.
Indavara tapped Simo’s arm. ‘I’m going to stay here.’
‘But the men are going to the camp.’
‘Shouldn’t someone watch them? A place like this?’
‘Do you want to come with us?’ The older woman had remained behind while the others walked into the dump.
‘They don’t need me to hand out bread,’ said Indavara. ‘I could help you look.’
‘Another pair of eyes would be useful but you should probably ask Elder Cobon.’
The dynamic leader was moving quickly and hadn’t even noticed what was going on behind him.
Simo shook his head. ‘I’ll meet you here, then. We mustn’t be too long.’
As he hurried after the others, Indavara followed the woman over the bridge.
‘I’m Alfidia,’ she said as they passed the two lads, who were already shovelling out the seashells. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Indavara.’
‘I’ve not heard that before.’
He never knew what to say to that.
‘Why must you get back quickly?’ she continued. ‘An impatient master, I suppose?’
‘Yes. Though he’s not really my master.’
‘Is it true that you do not follow the Faith, Indavara?’
‘It is.’
He thought that might upset her but Alfidia just smiled kindly. ‘Then can I ask why you are here?’
‘I don’t know really.’
They reached the others, who had stopped and formed a circle. Before anyone could speak, a little boy of about eight came running up to them. ‘I saw one, I saw one. Give us a coin and I’ll tell you where.’
‘Or you’ll just run off with it like you did last time,’ said one of the women.
They tried to ignore him, even when he started pulling on their tunics. Alfidia shooed him away but he turned his attention to the young woman. ‘Come on, just some food, then? Just a bit of food.’
She tried to move away but he was insistent.
One step forward from Indavara was enough to change his mind.
‘Curse you all!’ he yelled before running off.
The young woman nodded a shy thank-you.
‘This is Indavara,’ said Alfidia. ‘He is going to help us this morning. Now, shall we divide up as usual?’
While they spoke, Indavara looked at the young woman. She was quite tall and very thin, so thin that her pale blue tunic hung straight from her bony shoulders. Indavara thought her quite pretty and didn’t mind the faint brown birthmark on her right cheek. Her curly black hair was tied up messily with what looked like string. Aware that the others might notice his interest, he dragged his eyes away.
Alfidia had decided he would help her and, once the group split up, led the way. Indavara told himself that the girl wasn’t important, that he should concentrate on what they were there for. Alfidia stayed on one side of the path and directed him to the other. ‘They’re often left in baskets or wrappings. We must listen carefully too.’