As they ventured farther into the dump, the smell worsened. It wasn’t as bad as what came up out of the sewers, but there was clearly a lot of rotten food somewhere and in some places a fetid steam was rising. Some of the higher mounds of refuse were three times the height of a man. Indavara still found it almost impossible to believe that they might find a baby here. Aside from the stench and the dirt, the dump was strewn with dangers: shattered amphoras, broken tiles, fragments of glass.
They passed a group of lads dumping animal bones, apparently unconcerned that most of them ended up on the path. More boys appeared at the summit of another mound, wicker baskets strapped to their backs, hands wrapped in cloth. Alfidia spoke to them in Aramaic then continued looking. As the path bore around to the right, Indavara kept his eyes on the rubbish.
Broken red clay lamps. A mouldy rectangle of leather. Rotting apples. A block of pockmarked limestone. A sandal. The skin of a melon.
Movement. But it was just a big black-shelled insect, crawling across the handle of yet another broken amphora.
He realised Alfidia had stopped. Now that they were away from the boys, it was quieter. ‘Listen. Your hearing will be better than mine.’
‘Not in this ear.’ He pointed at it, then stayed silent. They listened for more than a minute but heard nothing.
Continuing on, they came upon a little dog sniffing something by the path. Alfidia thanked the Lord when she discovered it was just some old animal hides.
‘What do you do for work?’ she asked as they set off again.
‘Bodyguard.’
Alfidia glanced at the dagger upon his belt. ‘Violence is a sin. The Lord tells us that we must not harm others.’
Indavara thought of the legionary. What was his name? Scato. He couldn’t remember actually attacking him; just the look on his face when he let go. ‘Sometimes it just happens.’
They kept searching for another half an hour then met up with the others in the centre of the dump. When he heard that no one had found anything, Indavara felt disappointed, then realised how stupid that was.
‘A good thing, I suppose,’ he said as they trudged towards the street.
‘Yes,’ replied Alfidia. ‘Especially as we haven’t found somewhere for the other little one yet.’
‘Where do they go?’ asked Indavara, remembering what Corbulo had told him.
‘To good homes. Only good homes.’
Indavara glanced over his shoulder. The young woman was behind them, walking alone. Knowing he wouldn’t get a better chance to talk to her, he dropped back.
‘Another hot day.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Indavara might have laughed had he not been so nervous. ‘You don’t have to call me sir. I’m Indavara. What’s your name?’
‘Mahalie.’
He wiped sweat off his top lip. ‘Ah.’
She suddenly seemed keen to catch up with the others.
‘Is that Greek?’
She still hadn’t looked at him. ‘No.’
‘Aramaic?’
She nodded.
‘What do you do for work, Mahalie?’
‘Don’t want to talk.’ With that, she ran on after the others.
Indavara slowed down, face glowing. Once the women reached the edge of the dump, Mahalie spoke briefly to Alfidia then hurried away.
‘That’s why the men should stay with the men,’ said one of the women. ‘You leave her alone.’
His face grew even warmer. ‘Sorry.’ He walked past them, towards the camp.
‘Indavara.’
Seeing Alfidia coming after him, he stopped. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be. There’s no harm in talking to someone but Mahalie’s very quiet. Especially with men.’
‘I didn’t … I wasn’t trying to …’
‘I know.’
They both watched as Mahalie disappeared around a corner.
‘I do hope she doesn’t get into trouble,’ said Alfidia. ‘She can’t come very often.’
‘She is a servant?’
‘A house maid.’
‘A slave?’
‘Yes.’
‘Are you?’ asked Indavara.
‘No. Some of the others are, though. What about you?’
‘I was. Does she have any family?’
‘Just a sister but they were split up when her master brought her here from Antioch. Poor thing, we found her at the Temple of Aphrodite, seeking sanctuary. She had run away but the priests wouldn’t let her stay, so we took her to the church-house. Eventually, she decided to go back to her master. I think she enjoys being part of our group, though it’s hard to tell – she’s so quiet.’
‘Why had she run away?’
Alfidia looked back at the others, who were all staring at her. ‘I shouldn’t gossip like this. Will you come to help us again, Indavara?’
‘I’d like to. Do you come every day?’
‘We try to send someone, yes. Sometimes the boys find a little one and bring it to the church-house. They know they’ll get a coin or two from Elder Cobon.’
The Christian men had emerged from the camp.
‘I should be going. Good day.’
‘Good day, Indavara. And do not worry – you have done nothing wrong. The Lord knows it.’
‘By the great gods, what a shit hole.’
The tavern was quite possibly the worst Cassius had ever seen. The proprietor had just left, having escorted them up to the second-floor room, where they found Cosmas sitting by the single window.
‘Good view, though, sir,’ said the sergeant. ‘And that fellow didn’t ask much to keep his mouth shut.’
‘Probably his only source of income.’
There had been no customers down in the parlour, nor any sign that the other rooms were occupied. The walls were streaked with dirt of varying shades and visible collations of dust had gathered in the corners. The ‘bed’ was about a foot high, with straw leaking out of a holed mattress. While Indavara drank water from his flask, Cassius stepped over some rodent droppings and joined Cosmas.
‘Over there, sir.’
The warehouse was about fifty yards down the road to the left but because of a collapsed apartment block they could see almost the entire building. It was brick-built, with a gently sloping tiled roof; perhaps forty yards long and half as wide. There were two gates: one across the broad entrance, one within the surrounding ten-foot wall. A sentry was sitting on a stool in the shade, picking at his toes.
‘Just the one way in?’ asked Cassius.
‘Yes, and just the one guard. Swapped with his mate at dawn. It’s odd – no other comings and goings.’
‘Quiet round here,’ said Indavara, joining Cassius by the window as Cosmas stood up and moved aside.
The sergeant yawned and inadvertently belched. ‘Sorry. Long night.’
‘Best go and get some sleep,’ advised Cassius.
‘I wish. Diadromes needs me on the Gorgos job. I might catch a couple of hours at headquarters later.’
Cassius looked around for somewhere clean to place his satchel and cape. There was nowhere, so he dumped them on the bed.
‘How’s that going, by the way?’
‘More arrests and the court are writing up charges. Apparently Pomponianus is keen to hurry things along.’
‘Successful prosecutions before the election?’
Cosmas nodded as he tightened his belt. ‘I can be back by the ninth hour. That all right?’
‘It’ll have to be.’
‘If we decide to keep this up, I can hire someone reliable to keep an eye on the place.’
‘Good,’ said Cassius.
Indavara had noticed the plate lying on the floor. ‘How’s the food?’
‘Don’t ask.’
‘Tell the owner to bring in another chair,’ said Cassius.
‘Will do,’ replied Cosmas as he left.
‘Shall I take first watch?’ offered Indavara.
‘If you like.’ Cassius looked around again and wrinkled his nose at the smell of mould. ‘Ah, the glamour of life with Imperial Security.’
Indavara pulled the chair forward to improve his view. ‘Still think the gang’s here in Berytus?’
‘No idea. But if I don’t have something to report within the next few days, I doubt it will be my problem much longer.’