Vilsonius’s frown returned as Cassius dropped to the ground in front of him then crawled under the litter. As his hands slid on the wet, grimy flagstones, Cassius looked up to see Viator back on his feet and running again. Dragging himself clear of the litter, Cassius bolted after him.
‘Hope you catch him!’ cried Vilsonius.
The next alley was wider, and in the distance were the great bronze legs and fallen body of the Helios. Closer, a swathe of people were swarming past the end of the alley, also heading uphill.
‘Look out!’ cried another toga-clad fellow as his retinue divided to let Cassius through.
‘Sorry!’
Twenty yards ahead, Viator had reached the crowd. There were men, women and children — three or four hundred at least — all wearing blue capes over their clothing and all holding bottles or jars in two hands. Viator squeezed his way into the mass of bodies.
The worshippers were reciting a chant after every beat of a drum. ‘All praise Poseidon, Mover of the Sea, God of the Deep.’
Cassius peered over their heads and caught a glimpse of Viator’s long hair. ‘Stop that man!’
There were a few curious looks but the worshippers were more interested in not spilling their libations. Cassius glanced to his left and saw that they were converging on the arched entrance of a high-walled temple.
‘I said stop him! I am an-’
Cassius belatedly realised he was just a man in a red tunic, with no sword or helmet to mark him out as an army officer.
‘All praise Poseidon, Mover of the Sea, God of the Deep.’
Though they spoke slowly and softly, the combined volume of the hundreds of voices was remarkably loud.
Mainly because of his height, Cassius was able to keep track of Viator, who was now about a third of the way through the crowd. A priest carrying a staff was glaring at the thief, but imploring the worshippers to continue their chant.
‘All praise Poseidon, Mover of the Sea, God of the Deep.’
‘Sorry,’ said Cassius, as he cut in front of a young girl. He darted forward again but then found himself in the middle of a group of rough-looking youths. Without a word — and without spilling a drop of their libations — they communicated their displeasure by knocking him forward with their shoulders.
‘I’m very sorry, but I must-’
An elbow in the ribs silenced him. He got his hands high and tried to wriggle free but was carried along by the human tide. A shove in his back spun him around and on towards the temple. It was a while before he could even turn long enough to catch sight of Viator.
The thief had somehow forced his way through; he was almost at the edge of the crowd.
Indavara stopped at the other end of the alley. With his rangy frame and brown hair, Cassius stood out amongst the locals, but he was soon lost from view as the worshippers pressed on up the hill.
The three sergeants arrived together.
‘We can cut around,’ said Auspex between breaths.
‘You two go that way,’ said Indavara pointing to the right, down the slope.
He and Auspex sprinted away to the left, nipping neatly past the two litters bearing Gaius Vilsonius and his friend.
‘Too late as usual!’
Indavara accelerated to get ahead of a line of water carriers filing out of a doorway.
‘Next right!’ yelled Auspex.
Indavara rounded the corner and found himself on a narrow street that led down to another entrance at the side of the temple complex. Beyond an iron gate were the sparkling white columns and imposing walls of the building itself. The gate was open but standing either side of it were two priests — one young, one old — wearing long white robes.
‘Coming through!’ shouted Indavara. To his surprise, the priests moved together, blocking his path. He only just stopped in time and Auspex almost ran into him.
Indavara turned to the young sergeant. ‘Tell them!’
‘Er, in the name of the magistrate, you must allow us past, we are chasing a criminal.’
‘Only the Purified can use this entrance,’ said the older of the two priests.
‘The what?’ said Indavara.
‘He means priests,’ said Auspex. ‘Perhaps we should find another way.’
‘No chance.’
Indavara walked straight at the priests.
The younger of the two turned aside to let him through but the older man stood his ground and grabbed Indavara by the arm.
‘You cannot enter by this gate.’
‘I’m not going to do anything bad,’ Indavara replied. ‘I just want to pass through. Let go, you old fool!’
‘This is outrageous.’ The grey-bearded priest turned to the sergeant. ‘Do something, you imbecile.’
Auspex shrugged.
‘Let go of my arm or I’ll kick you,’ said Indavara.
‘What?’
‘You heard me.’
‘How dare you threaten one of the Purified!’
Instead of letting go, the priest grabbed Indavara by both arms and shook him. ‘You are not pure. You shall not pass!’
Indavara kicked him on the shin just below his right knee. Not hard. But hard enough.
With a high-pitched shriek, the old priest staggered backwards. The younger man went to his aid, while Auspex looked on, open-mouthed.
‘Can’t say I didn’t warn you,’ Indavara said as he ran through the gateway.
‘The wrath of Poseidon upon you!’ bellowed the priest. ‘Poseidon! Poseidon!’
‘Never heard of him,’ Indavara muttered.
The crowd slowed as those at the front reached the main gate. Feeling rather battered and bruised, Cassius squeezed past a family and a group of old women and reached the comparative safety of a statueless plinth to the right of the gate. Pressing his back against the marble he slid sideways to his left until he was finally able to extricate himself from the mass of worshippers.
Assuming Viator was long gone, he took a moment to get his bearings and catch his breath. He then heard an extremely refined but extremely loud voice:
‘That’s him! That’s the one. Almost knocked me over.’
Cassius looked up to see Viator struggling to get away from a red-faced young man who had hold of his arm.
‘Keep him there, Gavros! I shall find a sergeant!’ cried the old man standing close to the warring pair. He too was wearing a blue cape and holding a libation.
Cassius ran towards them.
Having sprinted along the side of the temple, Indavara halted by the steps that led up to the cavernous entrance. To his right — directly opposite the steps — was the main gate, where a dozen priests marshalled the faithful. On the other side of the temple were the gardens: a sprawling space decorated with vividly coloured bushes and luxuriant trees. Unnoticed by the busy priests, Indavara jogged past the temple looking for a way back on to the street. The gardens and the rest of the complex were enclosed by a twenty-foot red-brick wall. To the right, a dozen artisans — some on the ground, some up ladders — were at work, filling holes in the cement. He hurried over to a pair of them.
‘Sure you should be in here, mate?’ said one.
‘How do I get to the other side of this wall?’
‘You can’t from here. There’s only the main gate and the Priest Gate open today.’
The second man cast a suspicious glance at Indavara, especially the sword at his belt and the stave over his back. ‘What are you doing in here?’
Indavara turned back towards the temple and saw four more priests coming down the steps.
‘Er, I’m with the Magistrate’s Office. Chief Inspector of … Ladders. I think I’ll start here.’
By the time the suspicious labourer replied he was already on the third rung.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Just testing it. Hold it steady for me. Yes, good so far.’
Wincing at his own words, Indavara carried on climbing. All the other men had stopped working to watch him. He was halfway up the wall when he heard shouts to his right. The two priests from the side gate had appeared, the old man yelling at his colleagues exiting the temple. He stopped for a moment to rub his shin and noticed Indavara. Apparently forgetting his injury and showing impressive speed, he lifted his robes and ran, still shouting.