‘Which one’s the harbour master?’ Cassius asked Simo.
‘The older man, sir. Wearing the felt cap.’
‘Hang back to start with,’ Cassius told Indavara. ‘If he doesn’t cooperate, make your presence known. But let’s avoid any unpleasantness if possible.’
The harbour master threw three dice and moved his glass counter. He and the other players were still discussing the move when the trio approached the table. The harbour master glanced up at Simo and rolled his eyes. ‘You again.’
‘And me, this time,’ said Cassius. ‘I’m sure Simo told you who his master was. Are you in the habit of ignoring requests from officers of the Roman Army?’
Before the harbour master could answer, another man spoke up. ‘On his day off, he’s in the habit of ignoring everything except the next game of Twelve Lines or the next cup of Lindos’s best.’
Two of the others found this hilarious.
The harbour master turned to Cassius. ‘What’s the problem?’
Cassius was already annoyed; the man hadn’t addressed him as ‘sir’.
‘I’ll tell you that when you’ve stood up and accompanied me back to your office. A most important matter. I haven’t time to waste.’
‘My clerk will tell you all you need to know.’
‘Not good enough.’
The harbour master sipped his wine and gave a resigned shake of his head. The man who’d made the quip pointed at Cassius’s helmet.
‘I can see you’re Roman, but we ain’t.’ He pointed in turn at his friends, starting with the harbour master: ‘Rhodian, Egyptian, Spanish, and I’m Carthaginian.’
‘Forget it, Korinth,’ said the harbour master, collecting up his pile of coins. ‘We can play later.’
Korinth, whose muscled bulk strained against his undersized tunic, had strange dark tattoos circling his neck and wrists. His right cheek had been disfigured by a burn — a curiously angular slab of smooth, orange skin. He put a hand on the harbour master’s shoulder.
‘Stay where you are. It’s your day off.’
‘I don’t care if it’s Saturnalia,’ said Cassius. ‘A man has been killed. A very important man.’
‘This man,’ replied Korinth. ‘Roman, I take it?’
‘If you were born free in the Empire, so are you. As are we all.’
Korinth and the others laughed at this. The harbour master restricted himself to a grin. Cassius felt his face reddening.
‘He’ll come when he’s finished his game,’ said Korinth, running a hand through his wild tangle of hair.
Cassius turned slightly to his right.
Indavara got the message. He stepped forward and kicked the table, knocking drinks, coins and the board flying.
‘Looks like the game’s over,’ he said.
One of the men looked down at his wine-soaked tunic. ‘You son of a bitch.’
Korinth jumped up and made a grab for Indavara. Unfortunately for him, his legs were between the bench and table, so when Indavara swiped his hand away then pushed him in the chest, he went flying backwards, hitting the ground hard.
‘Uff!’
The other three scrambled free of the table.
‘All right that’s enough!’ yelled Cassius as he and Simo got out of the way. The harbour master put his hands up. The man with the wet tunic helped Korinth to his feet and the pair advanced side by side, eyeing Indavara. The bodyguard was armed with both dagger and sword but he reached over his shoulder and pulled the stave from his back.
‘I suggest you two calm down and walk away,’ advised Cassius.
By now the young lads and several passers-by had gathered to watch the impending fight. Cassius looked around but couldn’t see any of the soldiers nearby.
Korinth didn’t have a dagger on his belt, but hanging from his neck on a length of twine was a five-inch rope-spike. These were usually used for untying knots, but as he pulled it off over his head it was evident to all that he had a different application in mind. His friend drew his dagger — a narrow but sharp blade — and spat at Indavara’s feet.
Shouts from the other side of the road. Four young men wielding wooden clubs were sprinting towards the tavern. Behind them was an older man. He was unarmed, holding only the bulky chain around his neck.
Indavara spun round and saw the four men bearing down on him. He glanced at Cassius, who was backing away, still trying to work out what was going on. Apparently facing threats from both sides, Indavara decided to take matters into his own hands.
He turned back to the sailors, adjusted his grip on the stave and shoved it straight into the gut of the man with the dagger. The man’s mouth formed a wide O as he dropped on to his backside. Holding the rope-spike out in front of him, Korinth sprang forward.
His progress was instantly halted as the stave struck him on the chest with a hollow crack. Arms flailing, he flew back into the table. The impact snapped a plank and sent a jug of wine flying into the wall of the tavern. It exploded spectacularly.
‘Stop!’ shouted Cassius.
Indavara — who had already spun back round towards the road again — nodded at the advancing men. ‘Why don’t you tell them!’
The men showed no sign of stopping, and Indavara had no intention of letting them get in the first blow. He came out to meet the lead man and swung two-handed at his shoulder. The clubbing blow knocked his foe clean off his feet and into one of the others, who was sent sprawling to the ground. The other two skidded to a halt.
‘I said stop!’
Cassius ran over and got between them and Indavara. ‘All of you, stop!’
‘What’s going on here?’ asked the older fellow, bustling his way between the others, two more men coming up behind him. Cassius now noticed the object attached to his neck chain — a silver rendering of a familiar design of club.
‘You the magistrate?’ Cassius asked.
‘Of course. I am Gratus Nariad: Chief Inspector of Markets, Chief Inspector of Harbours and Chief Inspector of the Municipality. Who in the name of the gods are you?’
‘Corbulo, Imperial Security,’ Cassius replied, gesturing up at his helmet. ‘Didn’t you receive a message from Optio Clemens?’
‘No.’
‘Aaagh! Shit!’ cried the guard Indavara had struck. ‘I think he broke my arm.’
The other man sat next to him, staring down at the cuts and scrapes on his hands.
Korinth had recovered himself for a second time. He rubbed his chest, then picked up his rope-spike and staggered towards Indavara. ‘You little bastard.’
‘Indavara, over here,’ instructed Cassius.
Indavara didn’t move an inch.
‘Magistrate,’ said Cassius, ‘I want that man arrested. Now.’
‘What?’
‘He attacked my bodyguard. Tell your sergeants to arrest him.’
‘You one-eared whoreson,’ growled Korinth, bringing the spike up level with his face. ‘I’ll take off the other one too, make you look nice and even.’
‘Don’t mention his ear,’ Cassius warned.
The magistrate was staring at the combatants, frozen by indecision. Cassius yelled at him: ‘By the authority of the Imperial Roman Army, I order you to arrest that man at once!’
At last, the magistrate acted.
‘All right. Do it,’ he said, pushing his sergeants forward.
Cassius took hold of Indavara by the shoulders. The bodyguard shook him off but got out of the sergeants’ way.
‘Don’t make this worse than it already is, man,’ the magistrate told the enraged sailor.