The Emperor's Silver: Agent of Rome 5

by Nick Brown

  Cassius briefly considered asking whether Pomponianus was also prepared to so readily dismiss Chief Pulcher, who was known to be one of Aurelian’s most trusted aides.

  ‘Merely an administrative point, sir.’

  Pomponianus finished his wine and handed it to the attendant.

  ‘One week, Officer. Make sure your daily reports arrive before the twelfth hour.’

  The magistrate stood up and adjusted the thick silver chain around his neck. ‘My sergeants and my soldiers are occupied with the well-being of this city. They do not need unnecessary distractions. You shall keep your investigations discreet.’ Pomponianus jabbed a chubby finger towards the house. ‘And you shall keep that thug of yours under control. Understood?’

  Cassius and Diadromes had risen too. ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Good day,’ added the magistrate smoothly. He set off towards the house, retinue close behind.

  Diadromes looked at Cassius and shrugged. ‘He’s under a lot of pressure.’

  ‘He’s not the only one.’

  Diadromes scratched his bald patch. ‘Like I said, the smuggling investigation might turn something up.’

  ‘The way things have gone so far, I very much doubt it. In fact, I’m inclined to return to Tripolis.’

  Diadromes looked up at the pine, where some unseen bird was squawking. ‘Sometimes I wish I could just leave.’

  ‘More trouble? We saw a group of youths being brought in this morning. Something about a statue?’

  ‘Young fools – just like Sorio and the other grooms. They share an inability to accept the world as it is.’

  ‘A common affliction. But to attack an image of the Emperor?’

  ‘I know. Nemetorius will push for the harshest sanctions, I’m certain.’

  ‘And you?’

  ‘As you will have noted, I am not currently the magistrate’s favourite deputy but I will argue for clemency. The boys are young. That will help.’

  ‘Pomponianus needs assistance from Antioch if he wants to keep a lid on this unrest. Another century perhaps. Or funds for the corn dole.’

  ‘He will not ask. To do so would be to admit his own failure. Governor Gordio might even prevent him standing for re-election.’ Diadromes led the way back towards the villa. ‘I expect you’re looking forward to a rather more comfortable night?’

  ‘I am.’

  Diadromes laughed. ‘Cosmas told me those smugglers were begging to be let out of that cell. That bodyguard of yours would make a quite excellent sergeant but something tells me you would not let him go.’

  ‘Indeed I would not.’

  Indavara lay there in the dark, his hand upon his chest, the figurine clasped within it.

  He thought of what he’d told Corbulo in the stable. He felt proud of his words, how he’d convinced him that he was all right. He just wished it were true.

  At least he had stopped himself killing Greyboy. A thief deserved punishment but not death. A rapist did, though; and Indavara had killed three of them in the arena. Not that he’d really thought about who he was fighting. Criminal, prisoner, professional; it didn’t matter. It was always either them or him.

  But these men like the rapist. Men who cared nothing for others but simply took for themselves. Men like the centurion Carnifex in Africa or the slave trader Scaurus in Antioch. They were the demons Simo and his people spoke of; and if Indavara had a chance to rid the world of them he would do it.

  The legionary Scato was not one of them and Indavara screwed his eyes shut as he thought of what he’d almost done to him. He thought again of Corbulo’s awkward speech at the stable; he knew something was wrong and Indavara knew it too.

  Why was it happening now? When he was free? When he had a place in the world and friends beside him?

  If only he could remember something more; that would make everything better. The woman in the clearing? Could it have been his mother? There was no face, no voice, just a presence, something familiar. But the power of the memory faded with every day, like a feather drifting on the wind which he could never quite grasp. He almost wished he had never heard that accursed song.

  Dear Fortuna, goddess most high, help me to be a good man. Help me to think, and be calm and to control myself. Help me be a good man.

  Indavara wiped his eyes and pushed his blanket aside.

  ‘You all right?’ asked Simo in the darkness.

  ‘I’m going.’

  ‘Indavara, we’ve already pushed our luck too far. Master Cassius will be so angry.’

  ‘He’ll never know.’

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘Then I’ll go alone.’

  ‘What shall I tell him?’ asked Simo.

  ‘Whatever you want. I’m going.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I have to.’

  XXVIII

  It was still dark when he got there. He walked the paths between the mountains of rubbish, listening and looking. He was convinced he needed to be there, that he would find one of the abandoned babies. He hadn’t actually heard Fortuna’s voice say so, yet he was sure.

  But the dump was quiet and as the hours passed and the light came he wondered if it was just the torment of the night that had led him there. The boys arrived, ready for another day’s work, and he saw two dogs fighting over a bit of meat, snarling as they snatched the flesh from each other, neither able to eat it.

  Indavara had completed at least three circuits of the dump when he saw a flicker of movement among a pile of shattered pots. He ran to the edge of the path and checked carefully but whatever it was had moved on.

  Hearing someone run up behind him, he turned to see the lad from the previous day. The young Syrian had lost one of his sandals. He ran back and recovered it then blurted something in Aramaic.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ replied Indavara in Greek.

  The lad switched languages. ‘Baby! You want baby? Come – got a good one.’

  Indavara followed him to the side of the dump, close to a street where a few early risers had appeared. The lad stopped and held out his hand, palm upturned.

  ‘Where is it?’ asked Indavara.

  ‘Very close. Very close. Give coin first.’

  Indavara doubted the lad would risk tricking him so he took a sesterce from his money bag and handed it over.

  The lad grinned, showing his sharp little teeth, and ran off again. ‘Come, come. Look here.’

  Lying close to the ditch were several broken stone columns. The lad pointed between two of them. Indavara leaned over one of the columns and saw a circular basket. A cloth cover had been put over the handle, covering the contents. The lad sprang between the columns and lifted the cloth. Lying inside the basket was a baby that, to Indavara, looked similar to the other one the women had found. The infant narrowed its eyes against the light and wrinkled its nose but didn’t make a sound. The lad pulled back the tiny blanket covering it and pointed at its arms and legs.

  ‘Good one, eh? Good one.’

  He picked up the basket and handed it to Indavara, then ran off. Indavara looked down at the baby and realised two things. Firstly, it was a boy. Secondly, he had absolutely no idea what to do with it.

  Thank you, Fortuna. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

  The women came about an hour later, by which point Indavara was hiding in a nearby alley. He had initially sat waiting on the column with the basket on his lap but a local woman had come over, seen what was inside and started shouting at him in Aramaic. He guessed she thought he was taking it for himself so when she left he hurried across to the alley. The fuss had made the baby start crying. He had seen women moving them around to calm them so he swung the basket a bit and successfully sent the little boy off to sleep.

  Alfidia was with five others, including Mahalie.

  ‘Hello,’ he said as they stopped beside the dump. ‘I found one.’

  The women looked at him suspiciously but Alfidia walked over and took the basket. Without even looking inside, she passed it
back to one of the others.

  ‘You came alone?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘The Lord called you here,’ said one of the others.

  Indavara shook his head.

  ‘Or an angel,’ said another.

  ‘No,’ said Alfidia. ‘For this child, you are the angel.’

  Indavara had heard Simo mention that word but he still wasn’t quite sure what it meant.

  After a lengthy discussion, it was decided that two of the women would take the baby to Elder Cobon. Even though Indavara had searched everywhere, the others decided they would split into two groups and have a look around. Indavara had hoped he would be with Mahalie but Alfidia took him with her. She said three times that it was the voice of her god that had drawn him there that morning.

  After an hour they’d found nothing more so decided to leave. Indavara tried not to look at Mahalie but he wanted so much to speak to her. She just stood there, silent, as the others said farewells. Indavara watched them walk away.

  They were halfway across the street when she turned and ran back to him. She reached into the cloth bag over her shoulder, took out an apple and gave it to him.

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘My master has three trees and we can’t use them all. I gave one to everyone.’

  Indavara couldn’t think of anything to say.

  Mahalie ran back to the others.

  Indavara continued watching them for as long as he could then set off around the edge of the dump. He smiled; he felt better than he had for days.

  Just as he was about to cross the street and head back to the tower, a cart pulled up. The aged driver steadied the horses while a younger man climbed into the back and started flinging damaged amphoras on to the dump. He had barely started when a group of five lads – including Indavara’s young friend – arrived.

  ‘Look out, you little beggars,’ cried the man. As soon as an amphora landed, they would grab it and check inside.

  Indavara cleaned the apple on his sleeve. As he took his first bite, the man admonished the boys again.

  ‘They’re empty! They’re always empty.’ He caught Indavara’s eye and shook his head.

  ‘What are they after?’

  ‘Who knows?’ The man continued throwing the containers.

  Another older boy arrived, watching as the younger ones persisted with their search.

  ‘You speak Greek?’ asked Indavara.

  ‘I do.’

  ‘What are they after?’

  ‘Silvers.’

  ‘Silver what?’

  ‘Coins.’

  ‘Why would there be coins in amphoras?’

  ‘Don’t know. But there was before. Not proper ones but good enough to sell.’

  ‘“Proper ones”?’ asked Indavara.

  ‘They didn’t look right. The Emperor’s face was all squashed.’ The lad pulled a face. ‘We reckon that’s why they chucked ’em away.’

  ‘Denarii? The new ones? For Aurelian?’

  ‘That’s it.’

  Cassius wiped gunk out of his eyes and blinked into the bright morning sun. He had been roused from his bed by Indavara, who seemed convinced he’d found out something about fake coins. By the time Cassius had washed and dressed, the bodyguard was waiting outside with the horses and the three of them set off. Without Cosmas to guide them they got stuck several times amid traffic bound for the morning markets.

  Indavara had revealed only that they were heading for the edge of the city and Cassius was surprised when they stopped at what was quite clearly a rubbish dump. As they dismounted, a lad of about twelve or thirteen came running up. He was a dirty-looking wretch with patchy hair and scabs under his nose.

  ‘He’s called Leo,’ said Indavara.

  ‘And?’ said Cassius.

  ‘Tell him about the coins.’

  ‘They found ’em at the bottom of some amphoras.’

  Leo’s Greek was so bad that Cassius could barely understand.

  ‘How many?’ he asked.

  ‘Not sure. I never got any because I was too late.’

  ‘Where were they?’

  Leo shrugged and gestured at the mass of refuse behind him.

  Cassius sighed. ‘What did they look like?’

  ‘Like normal except that the picture of the Emperor was all messy – you couldn’t see his crown. The writing was messy too.’

  Despite the obvious danger of disease, Cassius took a step closer to him. ‘These were definitely denarii?’

  ‘Silvers, yes.’

  ‘Of the new kind?’

  ‘Yes – for Aurelian.’

  ‘The boys who found them – do they have any left?’

  ‘Nah. Sold ’em.’

  ‘To who?’

  ‘Old Altes. He pays us for anything brass or bronze or silver.’

  ‘Do you know where I can find him?’

  The lad picked at his scabs. ‘Don’t know. He comes by every few days or so.’

  ‘Could you find him?’

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘And what about the boys who found the amphoras?’

  ‘Myrto and his mates got most of ’em. They haven’t been round here for a while. But I think Pallas got a couple too – he lives just over there.’ Leo pointed at a ramshackle apartment block that faced the dump. ‘His mother’s keeping him in, though. He’s ill.’

  Cassius waved at Simo. ‘Tie the horses up. Leo, you’ll be going with my man there to get some information from Pallas. But I need to find this Altes too. There must be someone who knows where to find him.’

  ‘I can ask around.’

  ‘Good. Let’s see what Pallas can tell us first.’

  Simo had tethered the horses to a nearby tree that had been burned down to a blackened stump. ‘Sir?’

  ‘Young Leo is going to take you to see his friend, who found some denarii in amphoras. You need to find out firstly if he still has any, secondly exactly where they were found. Understood?’

  ‘Yes, Master Cassius.’

  ‘Off you go, then, you two.’

  The lad turned to Indavara and put out his hand. ‘What about my second—’

  ‘Boy,’ interjected Cassius. ‘You help us find out where those coins came from and you’ll be getting more than sesterces.’

  Leo licked his lips in anticipation and hurried away with Simo.

  ‘Why aren’t we going?’ asked Indavara. ‘You don’t want to get ill?’

  ‘There’s that. Plus Simo’s very adept with the common sort. If a protective mother sees you and me there she’s going to get anxious.’

  ‘So what do you think?’

  ‘Misshapen coins? There’s no mint in Berytus. I suppose there could be some in circulation from other attempts at fakery, but it’s promising, very promising. Well done.’

  Indavara looked genuinely pleased with himself, which made Cassius wish he didn’t have to ask the question. ‘So tell me – what were you doing down here before dawn?’

  ‘I was …’

  ‘With the Christians?’

  Eventually, Indavara nodded.

  ‘But Simo was with me at the tower.’

  ‘There’s a girl.’

  ‘Is there, now? Your interest becomes plain at last.’

  Indavara looked away.

  ‘Well, as you appeared to have uncovered our first decent lead you shall not hear me complain this time.’ Cassius looked out at the expanse of refuse and showed his distaste at the sour smell drifting out of it. ‘By the gods, this assignment becomes more prestigious by the day.’

  Half an hour later, Leo led them to the other side of the dump, Simo following with the horses. The lad eventually stopped by the ditch and swept a hand at the refuse. ‘Here. Pallas said somewhere in here. The amphoras were red.’

  The closest pile of refuse was ten foot high and there must have been at least five hundred pieces of red clay in view.

  ‘The pal
e red?’ Cassius pointed at one fragment in particular. ‘Not the red-brown?’

  ‘Pale red.’

  ‘Did the lads leave the amphoras or take them?’

  ‘Not sure.’

  Cassius stood there, thinking.

  Indavara spoke to Simo. ‘You’re sure Pallas doesn’t have any coins left?’

  ‘I don’t think he was lying. He traded them with this man Altes for food.’

  ‘We’ll never find the right amphoras in all that,’ said Indavara. ‘And how will we know them if the coins have gone anyway? Shouldn’t we try and find Altes?’

  Cassius was standing by the ditch. Noting all the wheel marks in the dirt, he beckoned Leo over. ‘Carts often dump things here?’

  ‘Yes – it’s close to the street. But the sergeants will fine them if they see it.’

  ‘Because they’re supposed to drive into the middle?’

  ‘Yes – to stop the ditch filling up.’

  ‘When do the sergeants come?’

  ‘Now and again.’

  ‘Not every day?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Do you know any of their names?’

  ‘No.’ Leo started picking his scabs again.

  ‘Get me one of those fragments, would you?’

  The lad leapt the ditch and grabbed one then returned and handed it to Cassius.

  ‘Simo, you’re going to stay with Leo. The two of you are to ask around and try and find Altes. If you do, questions to ask: firstly, what did they look like; secondly, what did he do with them; thirdly, does he have any idea where they came from? Got all that?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘We’ll meet you back at the tower. Take as long as you need.’

  ‘Very well, sir.’ Simo didn’t look particularly enamoured with his new assignment.

  Cassius grabbed his reins and mounted up.

  ‘So where are we going?’ asked Indavara.

  ‘To find Cosmas.’

  Neither of them particularly felt like hanging around at the headquarters – especially with all the curious sergeants watching – so they adjourned to the fish restaurant. Cosmas warned that it might take him a while to get the information Cassius had requested and it was almost midday when he joined them.