Nick Brown - The Emperor's silver

Indavara turned to him. ‘And you need me to protect you.’

‘I won’t deny it.’

‘Just tell me what you can do.’

‘I help you and then you run off with her? I don’t think so.’

‘I am not planning to run off anywhere. They cut her, Corbulo. For nothing. I would sooner kill them than leave her there alone.’

‘I don’t want to hear talk like that.’

‘Then give me another choice.’

Cassius took a long sip of wine. ‘Sitting in a locked room at the headquarters are all those amphoras confiscated from the factory. Thousands of denarii. Well, fake denarii. Slaves are expensive, young maids especially, but there is undoubtedly more than enough.’

‘To buy her, you mean?’

‘I’ll have to clear it with Diadromes, of course, but if I tell him the whole story I doubt he’ll oppose it. And I’m sure I can make appropriate adjustments to the necessary paperwork. The treasury and my superiors need never know.’

Some of the tension had left Indavara’s face. ‘We wouldn’t even be paying them with proper money.’

‘An added bonus. If that fact were to come out – perhaps after we had left Berytus – this master of hers might face a few more problems.’

‘How would we do it?’

‘I shall go to this man’s home and conduct the negotiation. I’m sure we can find a price agreeable to both parties, payable immediately in cash, of course.’

‘How did you … what an idea!’

Indavara did not often smile; Cassius had rarely seen him so happy.

‘There is a certain elegance to it, I suppose.’

Indavara grabbed his hand and shook it. ‘Thank you, Cassius. Thank you.’

The path was so rocky and uneven that they had to walk the last few miles. High above them, the towering peaks were even darker than the sky. The smuggler had only one lantern, making progress even slower. The middle of the night was long past when they finally heard the crying of goats and saw a light up ahead.

‘We wait here,’ said the smuggler.

Amathea was too tired to complain. Alexon left his horse and walked over to her. As she leant against him, he kissed her head. Despite it all – the tense escape, the exhausting journey – standing there in the dark with her holding on to him felt rather wonderful.

He was the one who had devised the daring, ingenious plan. He was the one that had saved them.

From ahead came the sound of a man quickly descending the trail, his boots sliding, sending grit down the slope. The two locals greeted each other in Aramaic, then the smuggler spoke in Greek.

‘We’ll bring the horses.’ He handed Alexon his lantern. ‘You two can go straight up.’

Alexon and Amathea continued on, hand in hand. As they approached the light – which was a lantern hung over the door of a small abode – Alexon glanced up at the sky and stopped for a moment. Only half the moon could be seen but that half seemed unnaturally large; so large that black and grey spots were visible upon the surface.

‘Rather beautiful.’

Amathea didn’t even look; she continued up the trail, snivelling and wiping her nose.

A woman was waiting at the door. In barely comprehensible Latin she promised them food and hot water and showed them through to their room. Alexon was surprised by the quality of the furniture, though he would have preferred one large bed instead of two small ones. The woman lit a candle, then bustled back into the parlour.

Amathea dropped down on the bed and put her head in her hands.

‘We’ve lost everything. Again.’

‘Not true, sister.’

Alexon took off his pack and sat beside her. He unbuckled the pack then took out the bronze box he had been carrying all day. He placed it on her lap, then shut the door. By the time he sat down again, she had already opened it. One half of the box contained a glittering stash of emeralds, sapphires, rubies, pearls and orange carnelian. In the other was the best and most valuable of Amathea’s jewellery. She picked up the largest of the emeralds. They had used the fake coins to buy it through a broker in Tyre. It was worth more than a thousand aurei.

‘I made a few calculations during the journey,’ said Alexon. ‘Even with the loss of the workshop, the stock and the slaves, we are still far better off than when we began this venture.’ He tapped the pack. ‘And we still have the dies.’

Amathea turned to him. ‘You have made the most of a bad situation, Alexon. I thank you.’

He put the box on the floor and took her hand in his.

‘I thought it was all over,’ added Amathea. ‘Lying in that horrible cart, hearing their voices.’

‘I wish I could have seen this Crispian’s face. He must have thought he was so clever, tracking us down.’

‘Not as clever as you, brother.’

She glanced down at a tear in her tunic and shook her head. ‘But look at us.’

Alexon stroked her hand. ‘Try not to think about it. By this time tomorrow we will be safely away from danger.’

Amathea looked around the room. ‘My body aches, I’ve no one to care for me and now I must spend the night in a hovel.’

‘No one to care for you?’

Alexon was glad it was just the two of them. All the best moments of his life had been with her. Just her. When he had her all to himself.

She touched his face. ‘Sorry, Alexon. I am yours.’

He thought his heart might burst.

He kissed her on the lips. ‘And I am yours.’

Indavara stopped at the corner of the street.

‘What is it?’ asked Cassius.

‘I should tell you. I came here before – waited for them outside the house. I was going to do something but I didn’t. They ran off.’

For Cassius, surprise soon gave way to relief. ‘Thank the gods you did no more than frighten them. You must stay here. It’s probably for the best anyway. Give that to Simo.’

Indavara was carrying a saddlebag containing small cloth bags of the counterfeit denarii, as was Simo. The Gaul turned so that Indavara could hang it on his spare shoulder.

‘Wait right here,’ said Cassius, pointing at the pavement.

Though he had left his helmet at the tower, he was wearing a fresh red tunic; this was another occasion when emphasising his status might be helpful. Given the situation in Berytus, however, he had taken off his light cloak only upon reaching the street. His sword – newly cleaned and polished by Simo – hung at his side.

‘Fifth gate along,’ said Indavara.

‘Come, Simo.’

They walked up to the house. As the attendant had a considerable load to contend with, Cassius took it upon himself to ring the bell hanging from a chain. While they waited, he looked through the gate. The dwelling was not very large but had one glassed window with an elaborate floral design. He guessed that Mahalie’s master might be a middle-ranking city official or a moderately successful merchant.

It was he that came out of the front door, holding the key on a string. The man was, as Indavara had suggested, unremarkable. He approached the gate hesitantly.

‘Good day,’ said Cassius.

‘Good day.’ The man’s eyes took in the tunic and the sword.

‘I’ll get straight to the point. I have a proposal for you regarding your slave – I believe she’s named Mahalie?’

‘Proposal?’

‘Yes. I’d like to buy her from you.’

The man scratched his neck with his fingernails. ‘She’s not for sale.’

‘Perhaps we can discuss a price.’

‘As I said, she’s not for sale. Good day to you.’

Cassius let him get halfway to the door before speaking again. ‘I believe you had another visitor the other day. Big fellow with a lot of scars?’

The man stopped and turned.