by Nick Brown
As he hurried after the others, Indavara followed the woman over the bridge.
‘I’m Alfidia,’ she said as they passed the two lads, who were already shovelling out the seashells. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Indavara.’
‘I’ve not heard that before.’
He never knew what to say to that.
‘Why must you get back quickly?’ she continued. ‘An impatient master, I suppose?’
‘Yes. Though he’s not really my master.’
‘Is it true that you do not follow the Faith, Indavara?’
‘It is.’
He thought that might upset her but Alfidia just smiled kindly. ‘Then can I ask why you are here?’
‘I don’t know really.’
They reached the others, who had stopped and formed a circle. Before anyone could speak, a little boy of about eight came running up to them. ‘I saw one, I saw one. Give us a coin and I’ll tell you where.’
‘Or you’ll just run off with it like you did last time,’ said one of the women.
They tried to ignore him, even when he started pulling on their tunics. Alfidia shooed him away but he turned his attention to the young woman. ‘Come on, just some food, then? Just a bit of food.’
She tried to move away but he was insistent.
One step forward from Indavara was enough to change his mind.
‘Curse you all!’ he yelled before running off.
The young woman nodded a shy thank-you.
‘This is Indavara,’ said Alfidia. ‘He is going to help us this morning. Now, shall we divide up as usual?’
While they spoke, Indavara looked at the young woman. She was quite tall and very thin, so thin that her pale blue tunic hung straight from her bony shoulders. Indavara thought her quite pretty and didn’t mind the faint brown birthmark on her right cheek. Her curly black hair was tied up messily with what looked like string. Aware that the others might notice his interest, he dragged his eyes away.
Alfidia had decided he would help her and, once the group split up, led the way. Indavara told himself that the girl wasn’t important, that he should concentrate on what they were there for. Alfidia stayed on one side of the path and directed him to the other. ‘They’re often left in baskets or wrappings. We must listen carefully too.’
As they ventured farther into the dump, the smell worsened. It wasn’t as bad as what came up out of the sewers, but there was clearly a lot of rotten food somewhere and in some places a fetid steam was rising. Some of the higher mounds of refuse were three times the height of a man. Indavara still found it almost impossible to believe that they might find a baby here. Aside from the stench and the dirt, the dump was strewn with dangers: shattered amphoras, broken tiles, fragments of glass.
They passed a group of lads dumping animal bones, apparently unconcerned that most of them ended up on the path. More boys appeared at the summit of another mound, wicker baskets strapped to their backs, hands wrapped in cloth. Alfidia spoke to them in Aramaic then continued looking. As the path bore around to the right, Indavara kept his eyes on the rubbish.
Broken red clay lamps. A mouldy rectangle of leather. Rotting apples. A block of pockmarked limestone. A sandal. The skin of a melon.
Movement. But it was just a big black-shelled insect, crawling across the handle of yet another broken amphora.
He realised Alfidia had stopped. Now that they were away from the boys, it was quieter. ‘Listen. Your hearing will be better than mine.’
‘Not in this ear.’ He pointed at it, then stayed silent. They listened for more than a minute but heard nothing.
Continuing on, they came upon a little dog sniffing something by the path. Alfidia thanked the Lord when she discovered it was just some old animal hides.
‘What do you do for work?’ she asked as they set off again.
‘Bodyguard.’
Alfidia glanced at the dagger upon his belt. ‘Violence is a sin. The Lord tells us that we must not harm others.’
Indavara thought of the legionary. What was his name? Scato. He couldn’t remember actually attacking him; just the look on his face when he let go. ‘Sometimes it just happens.’
They kept searching for another half an hour then met up with the others in the centre of the dump. When he heard that no one had found anything, Indavara felt disappointed, then realised how stupid that was.
‘A good thing, I suppose,’ he said as they trudged towards the street.
‘Yes,’ replied Alfidia. ‘Especially as we haven’t found somewhere for the other little one yet.’
‘Where do they go?’ asked Indavara, remembering what Corbulo had told him.
‘To good homes. Only good homes.’
Indavara glanced over his shoulder. The young woman was behind them, walking alone. Knowing he wouldn’t get a better chance to talk to her, he dropped back.
‘Another hot day.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Indavara might have laughed had he not been so nervous. ‘You don’t have to call me sir. I’m Indavara. What’s your name?’
‘Mahalie.’
He wiped sweat off his top lip. ‘Ah.’
She suddenly seemed keen to catch up with the others.
‘Is that Greek?’
She still hadn’t looked at him. ‘No.’
‘Aramaic?’
She nodded.
‘What do you do for work, Mahalie?’
‘Don’t want to talk.’ With that, she ran on after the others.
Indavara slowed down, face glowing. Once the women reached the edge of the dump, Mahalie spoke briefly to Alfidia then hurried away.
‘That’s why the men should stay with the men,’ said one of the women. ‘You leave her alone.’
His face grew even warmer. ‘Sorry.’ He walked past them, towards the camp.
‘Indavara.’
Seeing Alfidia coming after him, he stopped. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be. There’s no harm in talking to someone but Mahalie’s very quiet. Especially with men.’
‘I didn’t … I wasn’t trying to …’
‘I know.’
They both watched as Mahalie disappeared around a corner.
‘I do hope she doesn’t get into trouble,’ said Alfidia. ‘She can’t come very often.’
‘She is a servant?’
‘A house maid.’
‘A slave?’
‘Yes.’
‘Are you?’ asked Indavara.
‘No. Some of the others are, though. What about you?’
‘I was. Does she have any family?’
‘Just a sister but they were split up when her master brought her here from Antioch. Poor thing, we found her at the Temple of Aphrodite, seeking sanctuary. She had run away but the priests wouldn’t let her stay, so we took her to the church-house. Eventually, she decided to go back to her master. I think she enjoys being part of our group, though it’s hard to tell – she’s so quiet.’
‘Why had she run away?’
Alfidia looked back at the others, who were all staring at her. ‘I shouldn’t gossip like this. Will you come to help us again, Indavara?’
‘I’d like to. Do you come every day?’
‘We try to send someone, yes. Sometimes the boys find a little one and bring it to the church-house. They know they’ll get a coin or two from Elder Cobon.’
The Christian men had emerged from the camp.
‘I should be going. Good day.’
‘Good day, Indavara. And do not worry – you have done nothing wrong. The Lord knows it.’
‘By the great gods, what a shit hole.’
The tavern was quite possibly the worst Cassius had ever seen. The proprietor had just left, having escorted them up to the second-floor room, where they found Cosmas sitting by the single window.
‘Good view, though, sir,’ said the sergeant. ‘And that fellow didn’t ask much to keep his mouth shut.’
‘Probably his only source of
income.’
There had been no customers down in the parlour, nor any sign that the other rooms were occupied. The walls were streaked with dirt of varying shades and visible collations of dust had gathered in the corners. The ‘bed’ was about a foot high, with straw leaking out of a holed mattress. While Indavara drank water from his flask, Cassius stepped over some rodent droppings and joined Cosmas.
‘Over there, sir.’
The warehouse was about fifty yards down the road to the left but because of a collapsed apartment block they could see almost the entire building. It was brick-built, with a gently sloping tiled roof; perhaps forty yards long and half as wide. There were two gates: one across the broad entrance, one within the surrounding ten-foot wall. A sentry was sitting on a stool in the shade, picking at his toes.
‘Just the one way in?’ asked Cassius.
‘Yes, and just the one guard. Swapped with his mate at dawn. It’s odd – no other comings and goings.’
‘Quiet round here,’ said Indavara, joining Cassius by the window as Cosmas stood up and moved aside.
The sergeant yawned and inadvertently belched. ‘Sorry. Long night.’
‘Best go and get some sleep,’ advised Cassius.
‘I wish. Diadromes needs me on the Gorgos job. I might catch a couple of hours at headquarters later.’
Cassius looked around for somewhere clean to place his satchel and cape. There was nowhere, so he dumped them on the bed.
‘How’s that going, by the way?’
‘More arrests and the court are writing up charges. Apparently Pomponianus is keen to hurry things along.’
‘Successful prosecutions before the election?’
Cosmas nodded as he tightened his belt. ‘I can be back by the ninth hour. That all right?’
‘It’ll have to be.’
‘If we decide to keep this up, I can hire someone reliable to keep an eye on the place.’
‘Good,’ said Cassius.
Indavara had noticed the plate lying on the floor. ‘How’s the food?’
‘Don’t ask.’
‘Tell the owner to bring in another chair,’ said Cassius.
‘Will do,’ replied Cosmas as he left.
‘Shall I take first watch?’ offered Indavara.
‘If you like.’ Cassius looked around again and wrinkled his nose at the smell of mould. ‘Ah, the glamour of life with Imperial Security.’
Indavara pulled the chair forward to improve his view. ‘Still think the gang’s here in Berytus?’
‘No idea. But if I don’t have something to report within the next few days, I doubt it will be my problem much longer.’
‘So what then?’
‘I hate to think. Probably something dangerous.’
‘So we could be leaving soon?’
Cassius pointed at the window. ‘I’d be grateful if you could try to master watching and talking at the same time.’
A knock on the door.
‘Come.’
The elderly proprietor brought in a chair, which Cassius took from him.
‘Some wine and two mugs. And make sure it’s all spotless.’
The Syrian muttered something and withdrew.
Cassius sat beside Indavara. ‘You seem a bit more yourself today.’
The bodyguard kept his eyes on the warehouse. ‘Again, sorry about … what happened.’
‘I told you – forget it.’
‘What you said at the gate – about the good people do.’
Cassius brushed horsehair off his tunic. ‘Yes?’
‘You were right.’
‘Well, there’s plenty of evil too, I’ll grant you. But it is worth trying to keep things in perspective. Do you remember our discussion about Marcus Aurelius?’
‘Yes.’
‘He said: “Dwell on the beauty of life. Watch the stars, and see yourself running with them.”’
‘I understand the first part. But the second?’
‘I’ve never been entirely sure. But I like it.’
Indavara was out getting food when the two riders arrived. Cassius dragged the chair closer to the window and peered out as the men dismounted. They tied their horses to a ring set into the wall then each detached two bulging saddlebags. The guard unlocked the gate and escorted them into the warehouse. Cassius looked up and down the street. Apart from a woman emptying a tub of water down a drain, all was quiet. He glanced at the hourglass he had brought; it was half past the sixth hour. He picked up the sheet of paper and stick of charcoal on top of his satchel and made a note.
Heavy boots thumped on the staircase, then came a knock. ‘It’s me.’
‘Well, come in then.’
‘I thought you might be worried,’ said Indavara as he entered.
Cassius realised his mistake. ‘Sorry, you’re right. I doubt anyone could ever find us here but I suppose I mustn’t let my guard down.’
‘Who was on the horses?’
‘Two men. They took something inside. Still in there.’
Cassius frowned when he noticed Indavara was carrying a wicker basket.
‘I had to buy it to carry everything. I’ve got fresh rolls, spiced sausage, goat’s cheese, apples and raisin cake.’
‘What about the water?’
‘Found a fountain – very clear.’
‘Well done.’
Cassius’s stomach was growling but he kept his eyes on the warehouse. ‘You eat first, I’ll—’
Indavara already had a roll in his mouth.
The two visitors left half an hour later and before Cosmas returned to take over, Cassius had made two more notes: one concerned the new sentry who replaced his compatriot around the eighth hour, the other the cart that arrived with another delivery shortly after.
‘Six amphoras and a barrel.’
‘I’d love to know what’s in them,’ said the sergeant, now wearing a fresh tunic and smelling rather more pleasant than when he’d left.
‘As would I,’ replied Cassius. ‘There’s no way that they could hide an oven in that warehouse, is there?’
‘I don’t see how – where would the smoke and the fumes go?’
‘Did you get anywhere with the building owner?’
‘I’ve got a man working on it. We should know by tomorrow.’
‘And locally?’
‘I had Gessius make a few enquiries on the street but nothing of interest came up. We could try again, I suppose.’
‘Perhaps if we don’t get anywhere.’ Cassius stood up and put his satchel over his shoulder. ‘Now, when shall we take over again?’
‘Third hour of night? If you can go through to the morning I’ll get someone else along first thing.’
‘Very well. By the way, I just about managed to stop Indavara consuming every last morsel so there’s a bit of food left.’
The bodyguard shrugged as he sank his teeth into an apple.
‘Thank you. See you later.’ Cosmas sat down on the chair, already twisting his beard.
‘Back to the tower?’ enquired Indavara as they hurried down the stairs.
‘Briefly. After hours in this pit and several more coming tonight there’s only one place I wish to spend the afternoon.’
‘The baths?’
‘The baths.’
XXVI
Cassius was woken by Indavara’s snoring. He cursed quietly but was grateful that he’d been spared the shame of the bodyguard finding him asleep during his shift. He sat up in the chair, rubbed his eyes and looked down at the warehouse. According to Cosmas, the guard had been on duty as night fell; presumably he was still there now but not bothering to keep a light. Of the building itself, Cassius could see nothing but the angular outline. There wouldn’t have been much to observe except that a combination of moonlight and a few lanterns partly illuminated the street.
Indavara – slumped beside a little table where a candle burned – snored on.
Cassius checked his hourglass: the bottom half was almost full, which meant t
hat midnight was close. Resting his elbows on his knees and his chin on his hands, he continued the vigil. After a while, he realised something was moving down on the street. He watched the shape until it revealed itself to be nothing more than a large rat nosing its way along the gutter.
He thought of all the other darkened streets and alleys; and all the buildings here and in the other cities of Syria and beyond. Where were his enemies? Still hunting him? Had they tracked him to Berytus?
Despite the warmth of the night, he shivered. Every day without incident should have brought him solace but he just felt as if he was waiting for the inevitable moment when they finally caught up with him. He couldn’t live with this fear indefinitely, he knew that much. Once this job for Marcellinus was over, there were only two alternatives. He had to either get far, far away from Arabia and Syria or turn the tables on his pursuers and find out once and for all who they were.
At least the evening had brought a little respite. Floating in the pool of the warm room, he had closed his eyes and imagined he was at the baths nearest to his family home; a place he had visited almost every day for a decade. With the obvious exception of female company, there was everything a man could ask for: friendly faces, stimulating conversation, endless gossip, tales of adventures and exotic lands, jokes and japes aplenty. Even his father had been more relaxed there, proud to be out in public with his bright, handsome son; often challenging him to a swimming race until Cassius had finally become too good.
Indavara’s chin dropped on to his chest and he ceased snoring.
Someone inside the tavern was coughing; presumably the owner – they still hadn’t seen any other residents or staff. When the coughing finally stopped, Cassius heard the soft tap of footsteps below. He looked downward and saw three men arrive on foot by the warehouse gate, one of them holding a half-shuttered lantern. The other two had heavy packs over their shoulders. Soon the guard appeared from the shadows.
Cassius stuck out a boot and kicked Indavara gently on the leg. The bodyguard snorted then asked what was going on.
‘See for yourself.’
Indavara got up on his knees and shuffled over to the window.
After a brief discussion, the new arrivals hurried inside and the guard locked the gate behind them. The lantern painted a moving yellow blotch that disappeared when they entered the warehouse.
