Nick Brown - The Emperor's silver

‘Sometimes there seems to be no end to it.’

‘At least some of these folk – the weavers, for example – have a reason to do it.’ Indavara kicked his heel into the wall. ‘Gods, where is he?’

Cassius was waiting too. As if the trials of the night and morning hadn’t been enough, the fruitless pursuit and ensuing frustration had sapped him of any remaining energy. He was sitting on the bench under the pine tree, in the exact position Pomponianus had occupied two days previously. He wondered what the beleaguered magistrate was doing now.

One of Diadromes’s clerks had been out to tell him that the deputy would have a few spare minutes soon but that had been an hour ago. The man at least had some other good news: according to latest reports the streets were quieter and further serious incidents had been averted.

Cassius looked down at his scratched, bruised and filthy legs. He could smell himself – horse, probably, or perhaps still the stench of the settling basin. He stuck a finger in his itchy left ear and scraped out more mud – it seemed impossible to get it all out.

A few minutes earlier he had tried drafting his letter to Abascantius and Marcellinus but his addled mind was incapable. He still couldn’t believe he had been so easily fooled. If only he’d simply dismounted and lifted those blankets he would have found this sly brother and sister. Still, they had outwitted everyone else too, and if it hadn’t been for the delay in Berytus he felt sure they would have been apprehended. In any case, it was too much to think about now; the letter could wait until the morning.

‘Crispian!’

Diadromes had at last appeared on the terrace, accompanied by a quartet of assistants.

With a sigh, Cassius dragged himself up and ambled along the path. When he arrived, Diadromes dismissed the men, one of whom pestered him with two final questions before returning inside and pulling a heavy curtain across the doorway.

The deputy magistrate was standing up very straight, as if resisting the forces piling pressure upon him. Below his eyes, the skin was puffy and grey.

Cassius imagined he didn’t look much better. ‘Long day, eh?’

‘The longest.’

‘What’s the latest?’

‘We’re talking to Pomponianus’ people. He’s agreed to hand over control of the sergeants to me for the next week. I’m hopeful he will resign and we can call an early election. Nemetorius is digging his heels in but at least seems to realise he made a mistake at the forum.’ Diadromes looked up at the sky. ‘More than fifty dead, a dozen soldiers among them.’

‘My advice – don’t let them out of the barracks for at least a week.’

Diadromes grimaced. ‘I need them to keep control of the streets. The governor might send reinforcements but I’ve already lost dozens to desertion.’

‘No offence to your esteemed sergeants but in truth they are little more than a man with a club who takes orders. Why don’t you bring in some of the more moderate protesters and appoint them as sergeants? No one who’s committed a serious offence, of course – and it would only be temporary – but it might work. All protecting Berytus together; that type of thing.’

‘That’s actually not a bad idea.’

‘It’s not original. Some governor did it. Can’t remember where.’

Diadromes looked him up and down. ‘What about you? No sightings of this accursed pair?’

‘No; and the bloody servants all disappeared too, of course. Cosmas plans to search the villa and has men at the harbour and watching the gates but I doubt we’ll get anywhere. They’re too bright to stick around. They’ll be long gone.’

‘I apologise. It is our fault you did not reach them in time. Not to mention this traitor Kallikres.’

‘At least he made the right decision in the end.’

‘Where is he? I don’t even know.’

‘The cell. Which I imagine is rather full.’

‘Actually the sergeants made only a handful of arrests, would you believe? They spent most of their day protecting buildings.’

‘And now?’

‘All out on patrol. I’m going to ride around the centre, get a look for myself.’

‘Well, may I thank you for your timely intervention,’ said Cassius. ‘They wouldn’t have listened to anyone else.’

Diadromes glanced back at the curtain and lowered his voice. ‘They all assume I always wanted this. That I was biding my time, waiting for an opportunity. It’s not true. Perhaps a few years ago …’

‘The city needs you.’

‘I’m already getting tired of hearing that. What will you do now?’

‘Wait and see if Cosmas turns anything up, I suppose. Tomorrow I have several rather difficult letters to write. Then … who knows?’

They shook forearms.

‘Thank you once again,’ said Cassius. ‘For a moment there I honestly thought I was going to die in that house.’

‘Honestly – for a moment – so did I.’

Cassius drank his wine and gazed out at the city. He could see the collapsed, burnt-out factory and the smoke still rising from the ruin. There were few other obvious signs of what had transpired that day, though they had seen plenty on the way to the tower.

The sergeants were indeed out in force and Diadromes already had work parties attending to the statues that had been attacked and the provocative graffiti that adorned dozens of walls. Members of both the city council and the local assembly were on the streets too, showing their faces to homeowners and merchants whose property had been damaged. Not far from the tower, Cassius and the others had passed a house from which came the anguished shrieks of the bereaved. The men of the family had gathered outside; standing in silence while their women wailed.

Cassius heard feet on the ladder and turned just as Indavara’s head appeared.

‘Ah, sorry, I thought-’

‘No, please,’ said Cassius. ‘Come up.’

‘No, I’ll-’

‘Indavara, I’d like to speak to you.’

He climbed up through the hatch.

‘Wine?’

‘No.’

Newly clean, Cassius was clad only in his sleeping tunic. His body craved rest but he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep without some drink to dull the myriad thoughts assailing him. He poured himself some more, his arm aching even with the weight of the jug.

‘You seem preoccupied. This girl? What’s her name again?’

‘Mahalie.’

‘Would you like to go and see her?’

‘Yes. But … it’s difficult.’

‘You do appreciate that unless Cosmas finds out anything new we will probably have to leave in the next few days.’

Indavara had planted his hands on the stone surround. ‘I know.’

‘You will have to forget her.’

Cassius looked down at the pink lesions across the back of the bodyguard’s calves; a result of their involuntary ride down the water channel. Cassius had the same, all the way up to his backside.

‘It is not sensible for us to have attachments, not in our line of work.’ He leant against the surround beside Indavara. ‘It’s not easy for any of us. Don’t forget that I haven’t seen my family for three years and Simo hasn’t seen his father since we were in Antioch. Army life is like this.’

‘People like you do not understand what life is like for people like her.’

‘Probably true. But this girl is not your responsibility. We are meant for another path.’

‘Corbulo, I was powerless for six years. Now I have a place in the world – do not tell me that I cannot use it.’

‘I’m not. Nor am I blind to how this is affecting you. Listen, I think … perhaps there is something we can do for the girl. But you must promise me that when it is done you will leave with Simo and me. You have taken an oath.’