‘Ah,’ said Cassius.
‘I’ll take the back,’ said Indavara, who always became more vocal and animated with the prospect of a bit of excitement.
‘Don’t go overboard — we just need to talk to this man. Auspex, you go with him. Be careful not to show yourselves but be ready to act.’
‘And you,’ said Indavara as he and Auspex walked casually away along the pavement. When they were well away from the villa, they hurried across the street and disappeared around the far side of the sanctuary.
‘Now listen,’ Cassius told the other sergeants as he removed his sword belt. ‘You two be ready as well, but stay well hidden.’
Cassius would have preferred to send the men in, but their surly demeanour, identically short haircuts and bulky physiques were an absolute giveaway; better not to alarm the man if he had a tendency to run. He handed one of the men his sword-belt.
‘Simo, give him my helmet and the satchel too. You’re coming with me.’
As Simo handed them over, Cassius eyed the Gaul’s belt and tutted.
‘How many times have I told you about carrying a dagger, yet still you defy me?’
‘I simply haven’t the need for a weapon, sir.’
‘Lucky bloody you.’
Cassius turned to the sergeants for one last word. ‘If it goes to shit, be quick.’
He pulled his cream-coloured cloak tight around his collar. His tunic could still be seen underneath but red wasn’t exclusively the preserve of the army, so he hoped Viator would take it for no more than a bold statement of style.
‘Come on, Simo.’
Cassius walked across the street and up on to the pavement, twitching as he felt sweat gathering under his armpits.
The villa’s wooden door was fitted with an expensive iron lock. Next to it was a bell on a chain. Cassius rang it and the door opened surprisingly quickly. Standing there — holding a broom taller than him — was a lad of about ten.
‘Viator residence?’
‘Who’s asking?’
The only thing that stopped Cassius cuffing the boy round the ear was the man who appeared behind him.
‘Keep at your work.’
As the lad withdrew, the man pushed the door back towards Cassius so that it was only slightly ajar. He was about thirty, lean and wiry, with long, greasy hair tied into a tail. He took a quick look at Simo and a longer one at Cassius.
‘You Drusus Viator?’ Cassius asked with as friendly a smile as he could summon.
‘I reckon you know that as you’re standing at my door,’ replied Viator with a scowl. ‘More to the point, who are you?’
‘My name is Cassius Corbulo. I’m working on behalf of-’
Viator took a brief look over Cassius’s shoulder then slammed the door in his face.
Cassius spun round. One of the overzealous sergeants was by the side of the cart, clearly visible. He shrugged.
‘Idiot!’
Viator shouted from inside: ‘Where’s the key?’
Cassius grabbed the latch and lifted it, then pressed himself against the door. It opened six inches.
‘Get some weight on it, Simo.’
Overcoming his initial hesitation, the Gaul leant against the door. Cassius waved the sergeants forward.
Viator slammed back into the door and got the latch down.
‘Balls!’
Cassius pressed his fingers under the latch and tried to force it upward again. ‘Damn it, Simo, push harder!’
The sergeants arrived and swiftly took over, one knocking the latch up with his cudgel, the other bashing his shoulder into the door. As it momentarily swung open, he shoved his foot into the gap.
‘Got it!’
Cassius retreated, suddenly feeling rather useless. There was no way to see inside the villa — both windows at the front were shuttered. Simo picked up Cassius’s cloak, which had come off and fallen to the ground.
‘I’ll fetch the rest of your gear, sir,’ said the Gaul, pointing across the street.
‘Tell the others to come in the back, sir!’ shouted one of the sergeants, his face tight with effort as he leant against the door.
Cassius ran past the half-dozen people who’d stopped to watch the struggle and along the side of the sanctuary. Though the wall surrounding it was only knee-height, planted just inside were tall, closely packed conifers. Cassius reached the corner and turned left. The sanctuary faced a square with a few market stalls and a fountain. He’d just passed the arched entrance when one of the sergeants shouted, ‘We’re in!’
Cassius stopped, unsure whether to go forward or back.
‘Where is he?’ came another shout.
‘There — the window!’
Cassius pressed on to the far corner and looked along the road behind the villas; it was empty apart from a tethered mule at the rear of the bakery.
‘Indavara?’
No response. Cassius shouted louder. Because of his damaged left ear, Indavara’s hearing wasn’t always the best. Still no response.
But then came the slap-slap-slap of sandal on stone. Cassius turned and saw Viator sprint out of the sanctuary and across the square.
‘Out the side — of course,’ he muttered. ‘Shit.’
Tightening his belt two notches, he set off after him.
‘Here!’ he cried over his shoulder as he ran. ‘He’s here!’
Cassius still had his dagger on his belt and was relieved to see that the thief didn’t seem to have a weapon. He also had the advantage of his strong, well-worn-in boots, and though Viator’s loping stride suggested he wouldn’t be easily caught, his sandals would slow him down.
Skirting the busy market stalls, Cassius passed the fountain just as Viator nipped into a narrow alley between two apartment blocks. Moments before he reached it, Cassius took a quick look back across the square. He glimpsed two figures coming out of the sanctuary, but couldn’t tell who they were.
Shouts from the windows above echoed along the alley. Viator — arms and legs pumping — hadn’t taken a single look back. Glad he’d checked his boots before they approached the villa, Cassius lengthened his stride.
Viator charged past a sleeping mongrel. The dog woke, scrambled to its feet, chased him for a few yards, then gave up. It was still barking when Cassius leapt over the top of it, catching it on the ear. His leading foot landed on wet ground beneath a gutter and he skidded to a stop, only just maintaining his balance. Fully expecting to feel canine teeth sink into his trailing leg, he was relieved to get under way again unscathed.
Across a perpendicular alley and between two more blocks. Someone somewhere was yelling curses in Greek. More obstacles: rotting firewood piled up to the right, then a line of rusting braziers, several of which lay across the alley. Concentrating on his footing as he jumped over the last one, Cassius then looked forward. Viator had reached the next street, and a large obstacle of his own.
Two gentlemen in litters were being carried from right to left up the slope. Viator turned sideways as he ran, aiming to go between them. The toga-clad man lying in the first litter cursed at the thief as he splashed through an unexpectedly deep puddle, then stumbled into the two strapping slaves at the rear. Despite the impact, they each kept one hand on the litter and their master off the ground.
Viator didn’t fare so well. Bouncing off the bigger men, he pirouetted towards the slaves at the front of the second litter. One of them — a big African with arms wider than Viator’s legs — decided on a pre-emptive strike. He shoved the thief in the shoulder, sending him careering into the alley opposite. Viator finally lost his balance and fell.
The occupants of the now stationary litters were not happy.
‘Bloody disgrace!’
‘Never a sergeant around when you need one!’
Cassius reached the end of the alley. The stern frown of the gentleman in the first litter suddenly became a smile.
‘Oh. Good morning, Officer-’
‘Corbulo. Good morning, Gaius Vilsonius,’ said Cassius, recognising the helpful assemblyman they had met on their arrival at the Great Harbour.