Indavara doubled his pace. A protruding nail end sliced his right thumb but he pressed on. Eight rungs to go. Trying to ignore the shouts from below, he looked up. Five rungs. Four.
A sudden, jarring impact; and the ladder slipped a yard down the wall. Indavara lost his footing but managed to hang on. Then the ladder lurched to the right, and only by wedging his boot against the wall did he stop it tipping over. Glancing downwards, he saw the aged priest was there, shaking the ladder for all he was worth.
‘Old bastard!’
He looked up again. The top of the ladder was three feet from the top of the wall. He clambered up, set one boot on the penultimate rung, the other on the last rung, and threw himself upward. As his arms came down on the brick, a startled pigeon flew away in a flurry of feathers and shit, most of which landed on Indavara’s hands. He levered himself up, got a knee over the edge, and hauled himself on to the top of the wall. He turned round just in time to watch the ladder crash to the ground, narrowly missing one of the labourers. Wiping his hands on his tunic, he waved at the priest.
The old man shook a fist at him.
Cassius was only feet away when the desperate Viator swung an elbow into his captor’s face. The thief sprang away and the young man fell back, blood already streaming from his nose. As Cassius passed him, the old gentleman was already admonishing his attendant.
On they ran again; under a grand arch decorated with scenes of ancient battles and on to a wide gravelled path that ran down to the grassed area in front of the Helios. Lining the path were artists displaying their work on easels and a handful of middle-aged tourists milling around. There was also a party of well-dressed children sitting by the chain-link fence that surrounded the sun god, sketching the statue’s feet.
As he came down the slope, Cassius looked beyond the Helios and cursed. At the end of the path, about a hundred yards away, was what looked like a cloth market. There were scores of people in amongst the densely packed stalls and hanging lengths of fabric. If Viator made it there, he’d never find him, especially as neither Indavara nor the useless city sergeants had been able to keep up.
Cassius accelerated.
For several moments, Indavara had done nothing but stare in amazement at the two sections of the gargantuan figure. The head of the Helios — which was about the size of a cart — was to his left, ears and tufts of hair ingeniously crafted from the bronze. The shoulder was only a little below the level of the wall, while the tops of the knees on the standing section were a good twenty feet higher. The vast, curved slabs of metal seemed darker up close, like a polished hardwood.
‘Hey, what are you doing up there?’ There were also labourers at work on the other side of the wall and the closest of them was halfway up a ladder to Indavara’s left. There was another unoccupied ladder close by.
Shouts from below. He saw Viator scattering the tourists before disappearing behind the huge platform that supported the statue’s legs. Indavara was impressed to see Cassius not that far behind.
‘At least he can run.’
Looking along the path, Indavara saw the cloth market and reached the same conclusion as Cassius. He crawled along the wall to the ladder. Taking in a few angles and distances, he turned around and lowered himself on to it.
‘Get off there!’ shouted the labourer.
Doubt struck Indavara — the result of the soft life he was leading these days, he knew — but then he recalled an incident from their last outing in Antioch; a blind leap from twice this height.
He twisted his neck and glimpsed Viator, still sprinting hard.
Got to go now.
Gripping the sides of the ladder with both hands, he braced his right foot against the wall and pushed out.
Cassius reckoned he was gaining.
Viator had just lost a sandal but the cloth market was close.
Cassius got ready for one last burst. He would go for his legs and bring him down.
As air rushed past his ears, Indavara steeled himself for the impact. He expected to hit the statue’s left shoulder, then slide down to the ground and run around the head.
But the ladder had picked up tremendous speed; as it struck the shoulder, he was propelled straight on to the Helios’ back, landing with enough impetus to send him sliding across the slick metal. He only began to slow as he reached the right shoulder. Rolling over to try to stop himself, he then found himself careening down the statue’s right arm on his backside.
Cassius looked on in amazement as Indavara — apparently appearing from nowhere — landed on the ground just ahead of Viator. He dusted himself off, stepped neatly over the fence and stuck out a leg.
Stealing a glance back at Cassius, Viator didn’t even see him. He fell face first on to the ground, mirroring the statue’s pose. As he tried to scramble away, Indavara picked him up: one hand on his collar, one hand on his belt. He spun him round and shoved him back against the sun god’s forearm, which reached higher than both their heads.
‘Where in Hades did you come from?’ asked Cassius.
Indavara shrugged, one hand still on Viator’s collar. ‘Short cut.’
As he momentarily turned away, the thief drew his fist back.
‘Watch him!’ cried Cassius.
Before the second word was out of his mouth, Indavara had shifted his hand to Viator’s head and slapped it hard against the bronze.
‘Ow!’
‘Don’t do that again.’
Indavara backed up and stood beside Cassius.
Still rubbing his head, Viator glared at them. ‘Who are you two, anyway?’
‘Make way! Make way!’
The tourists and schoolchildren parted and Auspex and the other sergeants jogged forward. Behind them were three angry-looking middle-aged priests and a tall, balding man in a purple-striped toga.
‘This is Procurator Liburnias,’ explained Auspex. ‘He was attending the ceremony at the temple.’
Cassius gave a little bow and patted his hair down. ‘Sir.’
‘All right then, you two,’ said the procurator sternly. ‘Who kicked the priest?’
VII
The forum was full, not of local politicians but cleaners, readying the building for the assembly meeting the next morning. The women scrubbed floors, walls, columns and steps, while men kept them supplied with pails of steaming water. Cassius hurried along the portico, a neat and colourful garden to his left, a dozen of the women to his right. Eleven were on their knees, attending to already immaculate tiles. The twelfth was a sour-faced and voluble overseer. ‘Not slow, not quick, an even pace; don’t move on till you can see your face!’
Despite his foul mood, Cassius couldn’t help smiling — he remembered his mother repeating the same chant to the maids at his home in Ravenna. Noticing how dirty his hands were, he stopped a water carrier and dipped them in his pail. Once the worst of the grime was gone, he hurried on towards the anteroom where Indavara and Auspex were keeping watch on Drusus Viator.
Cassius had just concluded a rather tense meeting with Procurator Liburnias. Though ostensibly in charge of financial affairs, Liburnias was the second most powerful man in the city after the governor, who — rather fortuitously — was busy elsewhere. Without the spearhead and his letters to reinforce his authority, Cassius been forced to rely on his diplomatic skills (plus the odd oratorical flourish) and he thought he’d done rather well.
Halfway through the meeting, a letter had arrived from the high priest of the temple of Poseidon, calling for court proceedings and a flogging for Indavara. Cassius had done his best to plead the bodyguard’s case, quickly moving the conversation on to the brutal nature of Memor’s murder, the suffering of his grief-stricken family and the crucial importance of apprehending Viator. He had also dropped Chief Pulcher’s name into the mix a couple of times for good measure. Even so, it was a good half an hour before he could extricate himself, promising the Service would make a sizeable contribution to the Temple of Poseidon. Liburnias had suggested that Indavara keep his head down. The word was already out about the one-eared thug who’d assaulted one of the Purified, and the procurator seemed sure that some of the younger, more headstrong followers would be out for blood.