‘Probably. They have defrauded the city of thousands.’
‘Then I don’t see the point of bothering with the charges. Especially as we probably won’t even be here by the time it actually reaches the court.’ Cassius stood. ‘Except maybe that vicious bastard with the knife.’
‘Idomeneus,’ said Cosmas. ‘A robber and rapist.’
‘Gods.’
‘You should have let me kill him,’ said Indavara as he got to his feet. ‘Where are our weapons?’
Cosmas turned to the door. ‘Vespilo.’
The sergeant came in holding a bundle of belts, sheaths and blades. He also had Cassius’s satchel over his shoulder.
‘I had it fetched from the inn,’ said Cosmas. He dismissed Vespilo then looked on as the pair armed themselves.
‘I need some air,’ said Cassius. ‘I take it we’re free to leave?’
‘Of course, sir. Though I’m afraid it’s inevitable that talk of this incident will reach the magistrate.’
‘As things seem to be going from bad to worse with every passing day that seems highly likely.’
Out in the corridor, a group of sergeants watched them walk out. Unsurprisingly, they seemed most interested in Indavara.
Cassius straightened his sword belt. ‘Cosmas, can we be sure that this smuggling ring has nothing to do with the counterfeiting? What about the bronze sheets?’
‘The interrogations haven’t begun yet but we’ll know for certain soon enough. We’ve got most of the gang behind bars now and they’ll get little mercy from the magistrate unless they can offer him the money men. They’ll talk; and I’ll be listening.’
As they reached the courtyard outside, another group of sergeants were bringing in yet more prisoners: a dozen youths, the youngest of them no more than twelve or thirteen. Beyond the gate, a larger group had followed the sergeants and their captives.
Cosmas questioned one of his compatriots and passed on what he’d heard to Cassius. ‘They defaced a statue of the Emperor.’
‘Cretins.’
‘What will be done to them?’ asked Indavara.
‘Flogging at the very least,’ said Cosmas.
‘Even the young ones?’
‘No more than they deserve,’ said Cassius. ‘Some things simply cannot be allowed.’
Indavara muttered an oath and stalked away towards the gate.
‘I’ll contact you if anything comes up, sir,’ said Cosmas. ‘And, again, sincere apologies.’
‘Don’t stop, Simo. I’m filthy.’
Cassius didn’t have the energy for a trip to the baths so was standing naked in the middle of the tower while Simo cleaned him with a sponge.
‘Sorry, sir, I’m just concerned about Indavara.’
‘As am I. Even for him, it was quite a display. No wonder they loved him in the arena.’
The bodyguard was at the stables, having been encouraged by Cassius to go and see Patch. He had said little during the night and even less on the way back through the city. It seemed obvious that he was again in need of a calming influence.
‘I suppose I should be grateful that he listened to me. But he had that look in his eyes again.’
Simo shook his head.
‘I mean, he’s always liked a good scrap – it’s what he does. But … well, it was almost as if he was enjoying it.’
‘Have you talked to him, sir? Arms up, please.’
Cassius complied, and tried to ignore the sponge tickling his armpits.
‘Not directly. But I think I shall. I cannot afford for him to be … unstable.’
‘Violence has always been a part of his life, sir.’
‘The main part – of the life he knows, anyway. I wonder what more we can do for him.’
Simo squeezed the sponge out over the drain, then dipped it in the soapy water once more and ran it across Cassius’s shoulders. ‘Sir, I know your views on the Faith but I think he needs some kind of release. He likes to be active, to help others where he can. I believe it might help keep him on an even keel.’
‘You would consider it a great triumph, of course, to turn him from the path of violence and sin.’
‘No, Master Cassius. That is not what I meant.’
‘Surely I don’t have to remind you again of what we discussed?’
‘No.’
‘Gods, things were simpler when he just sulked around and thumped people when I needed him to.’
Cassius didn’t add that he, Abascantius and the Service could not afford to blunt the bodyguard’s edge. What was it Diadromes had said? Thoroughbreds are highly strung.
It now seemed this was more accurate than he’d previously realised. And if a man like Indavara became unbiddable, he would soon become a liability. Cassius could not let that happen – certainly not at the moment.
‘But it is different now, sir, isn’t it?’ said Simo, as he cleaned his master’s chest. ‘Because he is your friend.’
‘Yes. There is that to consider too.’
Cassius decided he could brave the two-minute walk to the stables alone but kept his hand on his sword all the way. He found Indavara helping one of the lads sweep out the stalls and heard a snatch of their conversation: they were talking about their favourite varieties of bread. Indavara didn’t look particularly happy to see Cassius but stopped working and gave his brush to the lad.
‘Need me?’
‘A note just arrived. I am to meet with the governor at Diadromes’s place. We can ride there.’
Indavara asked the lad to fetch their mounts. They were left alone, standing opposite three horses with their heads out of their stalls, solemnly looking on.
‘Where’s Patch?’
‘In the field out the back.’
‘Ah. Can we talk for a moment?’
Indavara had left his sword propped up against a stall. He picked it up and wiped something off the handle. ‘If you like.’
‘Busy couple of days,’ said Cassius. ‘I’m sorry that you’ve had to … well … some unpleasant situations.’
‘What I get paid for, right?’
‘Yes. I’m just saying … I appreciate that it takes its toll.’
‘What do you mean?’
Being lost for words was not a familiar predicament for Cassius. ‘I … er … I just … I hope you’re all right. In yourself. I mean, there was the incident with the legionary, then last night.’
‘You’re unhappy with something? Just say so.’
‘Not at all – you did exceptionally well, as always. It’s just …’
Indavara put the sword belt on and stared at him.
‘Ah … nothing,’ said Cassius. ‘I don’t know what I’m on about really.’
To his relief, the lad returned with their horses.
‘Right, well. We’d better be going.’
Indavara stayed where he was. ‘You’re worried that I might lose control of myself.’
Cassius could not think of a reply.
‘I survived the arena for six years but I realised within six days that control was the most important thing I had to learn. No rushes of blood, no wild swings, no revenge. I know you think me ignorant but it was thought that got me through – the right decision at the right time. Just leave me to do my job. All right?’
‘Right.’ Cassius stood there for a moment, still absorbing what he’d heard.
Indavara took the reins for both horses and handed him his. ‘We going, then?’
Diadromes and Magistrate Pomponianus were waiting in the garden, sitting under a solitary pine tree, the top of which looked to Cassius very much like a head of broccoli. Leaving his superior sitting on an ornate stone bench, the deputy magistrate hurried forward to shake Cassius’s forearm.
‘Careful,’ he whispered before turning back, ‘he’s not in a good mood.’
Pomponianus was a rotund, dark-skinned man with a well-manicured beard. He sat hunched over on the bench, folds of his toga hanging between his legs, inspecting Cassius. Several yards away stood a legionary bodyguard and another man in a toga. Directly behind the magistrate was a young attendant holding a glass of wine.
‘Officer Crispian of the Imperial Security Service.’
Diadromes then gestured towards the older man, who clearly had no intention of getting up. ‘The honourable Placus Cipius Pomponianus, Magistrate of the City of Berytus.’