The Earthly Gods

by Nick Brown

  Cassius replied that he was; and that by the time they met he would be certain.

  IV

  Simo had run out of work. He had tidied the room twice, all his master’s dirty clothes were washed and drying and he had packed up as much as he could. With a final adjustment to the blankets and pillows on the two beds, he looked outside. Cassius was sitting against the wall in his favoured spot. He hadn’t said a thing since Abascantius had left.

  Simo had little idea about what his master would do, though he had his own views on the matter. He thought it best that the young officer return to Italy and spend some time with his family. Cassius had been through an almost unending series of trials since arriving in Syria three years ago; and Simo had witnessed almost all of them. Though he’d been better over the last few days, the drinking was once again getting out of hand. Simo was in no doubt that he would benefit greatly from the support of his loved ones; that he would be renewed enough to complete his last two years of service – even if Indavara could not be found.

  And yet he could not help hoping they stayed. Master Cassius had promised Simo that when his army career was over, he would become a freedman. But until that time, he had to remain with him and serve as best he could. Their return to Antioch had allowed him to spend time with his father; to return to a familiar congregation and help poor Mahalie. She at last seemed to be recovering from the trauma of losing the man who’d rescued her from a terrible life.

  Like his master, Simo would have given anything to know where his friend was. He had never prayed so much for some sign or suggestion that Indavara might be found.

  That sign had never come; and now he prayed for the strength to carry on. His father told him not to neglect those he could help; to always remember that he would see Indavara in the Kingdom. Simo had told his father that Indavara was a good man; a man who always tried to help those less fortunate. He had not told him about all the killing the ex-gladiator had done. Could such a man ever be admitted to the Kingdom? Simo could not bear the thought that he might never see him again.

  ‘Simo.’

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘Come here. This decision affects you.’

  Simo walked outside. The sky was grey overhead, the flower garden gloomy.

  ‘Despite what Abascantius may think, I am no use to the Service at the moment. Nor will I be until I have exhausted every possibility of finding Indavara. I will not stay here and I will not return home.’

  Cassius closed his eyes for a moment and his throat quivered.

  ‘Sir, about going home. It has been three years. Perhaps—’

  ‘No. Not now. I can’t. I know you would prefer to stay here but there is a way to help Indavara and this poor missing girl. I will make Kabir an offer: in return for doing everything in my power to help him find his daughter, he will do the same.’

  ‘How can Kabir help you, sir? Us?’

  ‘Whoever has Indavara is powerful. We will not be able to take on him and his men alone. You’ve seen how effective the nomads are in action.’

  ‘What about the army, sir? The Service?’

  ‘Abascantius won’t allow this. So I’m not going to tell him. We’ll leave before he can do anything about it.’

  Simo took a moment to absorb all he’d heard. The thought of leaving so quickly was not a pleasant one but he could not help admiring the clarity of thought that he’d seen so often from the young man. Most admirable of all was his utter refusal to give up on Indavara and his determination to see the abducted girls found. Simo could not begrudge him this, even though he could see two major flaws in the scheme.

  ‘Well, what do you think?’

  ‘Master Cassius, I think it a noble choice. And you know I will always stand beside you. But what of Master Abascantius – he has often threatened you before because of our time in Cyzicus. If you were to directly disobey him again?’

  Cassius let out a long breath. ‘I know …’

  ‘And he has eyes and ears everywhere.’

  ‘He knows nothing about Kabir. And he’s going to know nothing. When I return, I will simply have to face whatever punishment awaits.’

  ‘Also, sir, what if some information reaches Antioch – the basilica, and we are hundreds of miles away.’

  ‘I’m already working on that – leave it to me. Simo, we’re going to need more money. I want to take nothing more than eight saddlebags. Fit all of my precious belongings into them and as much of the clothing and other essentials as you can. The rest you will sell.’

  ‘Yes, sir. And Indavara’s belongings? There’s not much but—’

  ‘The bow and arrows take up space and will fetch a decent price. Everything else you keep. Everything, Simo.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Simo’s head was abuzz; he could not imagine how he was going to tell his father he was leaving.

  Cassius put a hand on his arm. ‘I will give you time to go and see him.’ He stood up. ‘Come, there’s only a few hours of light left. We have a lot to do.’

  During the many occasions on which he had visited the basilica to check the post, Cassius had often observed the clerks at work. Vibius – the young, keen fellow – did not seem particularly popular with his colleagues. Cassius guessed he worked too hard and made the others look bad; and probably toadied to their superiors. Vibius was therefore utterly unsuited to what Cassius had in mind. But he could still be useful.

  The working day was nearing its end. The eight clerks were all seated, sorting through the flurry of communiqués still arriving from all over the city and further afield. Anything urgent to go out would be dispatched by a runner; a line of willing boys occupied the space between two columns. Today, Vibius was supervising them.

  The more well mannered boys stood up straight as Cassius approached. He had left his helmet at the inn but was wearing his cloak.

  He greeted Vibius and ushered him behind the closest pillar, shielding him from the other clerks. ‘Do you have a moment?’

  ‘Of course, sir.’ Vibius was young enough to still have an unpleasant collation of spots on his chin.

  ‘This is an important – and rather urgent – matter.’ Cassius lowered his voice. ‘There is a suggestion that the integrity of the imperial post has been compromised. The leak has been traced to the basilica. Now think about this very carefully. Amongst your fellow clerks, is there anyone you think might be open to … manipulation?’

  Vibius gulped and looked anxiously around. Many of the administrators had gone home for the day but there were still a dozen senior men in togas and several army officers.

  ‘Do not worry,’ added Cassius. ‘Anything you say will remain anonymous and no action will be taken without proof. Any names?’

  Vibius began chewing his cheek.

  ‘Just the names,’ said Cassius.

  ‘There is … I don’t think I should …’

  ‘Come now. I wouldn’t want to have to mention you in my report for obstructing the investigation.’

  He felt a slight pang of guilt at the reaction this provoked.

  ‘Calidius, perhaps. Or Denter.’

  ‘Are either of them here now?’

  ‘Calidius is.’

  ‘Good. Thank you.’

  ‘Sir, you won’t mention my—’

  ‘Never. I thank you on behalf of the Service.’

  Vibius brightened.

  Cassius strode past the boys and up to the counter, which was currently unmanned.

  ‘Who is Calidius?’

  A seated man raised his hand. ‘Here, sir.’

  ‘I have a small job for you.’ Cassius beckoned him forward.

  The clerk – who was a chubby fellow, perhaps a little older than Cassius – neatly negotiated the tables between them.

  ‘Is there somewhere we can talk in private?’

  Calidius looked mystified but nonetheless pointed towards the rear of the basilica. ‘There, sir?’

  ‘That’s fine.’

  Most of the small offices and storage roo
ms were locked shut but one – empty other than a stack of tables – was open.

  Once inside, Cassius got straight to the point. ‘You’ve seen me here before?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘And you know about the letters I sent out about the missing man? He is my bodyguard and friend – his name’s Indavara.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘I am leaving Antioch tomorrow. It is possible that another man, a senior man, might send someone to collect any relevant replies, or have them sent on to him. But they will still come here first. I need you to monitor any such communication for me. If you can, open them and make a copy. If not, at least take a note of where they came from. You must keep a scrupulous, accurate record. But you must not let your colleagues or anyone else know what you are doing. I will of course pay you well.’

  Calidius scratched his neck. ‘Sir, aren’t you with the Service? I wouldn’t want to cross Pitface.’

  ‘As long as you’re careful, he’ll never know. I need you to do this for a month, two at the most. I may also write to you here requesting the latest news, if any. Name your price.’

  ‘Ten denarii.’

  Cassius made a show of his consideration, though he would have paid twice as much.

  ‘Very well. I suggest you keep your records and any copies at home.’

  Cassius checked again that they weren’t being watched, then counted out half the coins and gave them to the clerk.

  ‘The rest when I return.’

  Calidius could hardly hide his glee as he slipped his easy earnings into a pocket. ‘Sir, there’s been nothing about your friend so far. What if nothing more comes?’

  ‘Then that’s how it is. But if something does arrive – anything – and you miss it, then you and I will have a serious disagreement. And you can forget the rest of the money. A man’s life may depend on me receiving that information. Understood?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  The night was several hours old when Cassius and Simo finally sat down. As well as visiting both his father and Mahalie, the Gaul had also been to a local clothier and a cobbler. He had sold two pairs of boots, one pair of felt slippers, two belts, two belt buckles, a cape, a cloak, three blankets, two pillows and one cushion. Having settled up with the innkeeper he had also swapped some supplies (including candles, olive oil and soap) for fresh food for the journey.

  Simo counted up the coins he had just tipped on to the table. ‘Almost sixty denarii, sir.’

  ‘That and the advance will keep us going for a while.’ Cassius glanced at the floor, where Simo had packed the saddlebags.

  ‘Two for each of us—’

  ‘—and four for Patch, sir, yes.’

  ‘Are the mounts all right?’

  ‘Yes, sir, the grey’s ears have cleared up nicely. Stable fees all paid off too.’

  The two horses had been with them since they’d left Bostra in the summer and had served them well.

  ‘Let us hope their good health continues. We cannot afford replacements.’

  Simo returned the coins to the bag, then stared at the flame of the oil lamp between them.

  Cassius eyed the hunk of bread on his plate and realised he couldn’t eat any more. It was too late.

  ‘How were they both?’

  ‘I took Mahalie with me to my father. Fortunately they have met several times at the church house. She did not take the news well but after a while he managed to get a few words out of her. At least she knows someone will be there if she needs anything. I left them together and assured her that I – we – will be back soon. I’m not sure she believed me.’

  ‘She’s in good hands, Simo.’

  ‘Sir, I told my father about Kabir’s daughter and the other missing girls. I hope you don’t mind. I felt I had to say something.’

  Cassius almost snapped at him; Abascantius knew about Simo’s father – it was one method of tracking them down. But he could understand why the Gaul would want to explain. ‘As long as he tells no one else.’

  ‘He won’t, sir. He will pray for us. And Indavara. And the missing girls.’

  Cassius emptied his mug of wine. ‘I expect Kabir and his family have prayed to their sun god for hours on end. I expect Indavara has prayed to his precious Fortuna too. Doesn’t appear to have done them much good, does it?’

  Simo – who had long mastered the art of sleeping lightly and waking when he was supposed to – roused Cassius well before dawn. As the innkeeper helped him take their saddlebags around to the stable, Cassius placed his crested helmet on the table in the parlour. He had instructed the innkeeper to present it to Abascantius or Shostra when one or both of them turned up, which they inevitably would. He took out the brief note he had written the night before and held it close to the nearest lamp.

  Sir,

  I am sorry but I must leave. Please do not try to find me. I will return as soon as I can.

  Cassius Corbulo

  He knew what it might mean for him. This was a direct contravention of orders. If he so desired, Abascantius could strip him of his rank and send him back to Italy in disgrace. Cassius had already shamed his family once; that was why he had been forced to join the army in the first place. There were few worse eventualities he could contemplate. Not finding Indavara was one of them.

  As the sun rose, the walls and columns of Antioch were first drawn from the darkness then coloured a deep, dark orange that eventually became a pale, warm yellow. Above the Beroea Gate, the stone sculpture of Romulus and Remus stood proud, thirty feet above the ground. Lower down was the sparkling silver statue of the local goddess Tyche.

  A legionary appeared beneath the portcullis, then walked out beyond the great arch and relieved himself beside the road. At the nomad encampment, fires were lit and thin trails of smoke drifted high into the cloudless sky.

  Cassius and Simo were a quarter-mile from the gate, waiting beside the causeway. Though they had been there since dawn, Cassius began to fear they might have missed Kabir and his party.

  But as a column of carts carrying broken tiles rolled past, he spied a group of four horsemen trot out of the camp. They bypassed the carts, then guided their mounts on to the causeway.

  ‘Good morning.’

  Kabir seemed as surprised as the others. Like them, his eyes took in the heavily loaded horses and the donkey roped to Simo’s mount. The chieftain also inspected Cassius’s clothing: he had dispensed even with his wide military belt and could have passed for a middling merchant or a Roman holidaying in the East. With his pale skin and brown hair, Cassius could never hope to blend in with the locals.

  The nomads were travelling light, their horses burdened mainly with fodder and water skins. Cassius noted that every man was also carrying his sling and ammunition bag where they could easily be reached. Kabir’s unit of auxiliaries and their deadly skills had turned the tide during the siege of Alauran. Idan in particular was uncannily accurate.

  ‘Kabir, I would like to make you and your men an offer.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘I will accompany you to Tarsus and do everything I can to help you find the girls. If we do, in return I ask for your help with finding my friend. I cannot take on those who have captured him alone.’

  Kabir glanced back at each of the others. Cassius saw no obvious reaction from any of them. They would obey his decision. The chieftain nudged his horse closer to Cassius and reached out to him. They shook hands.

  The Syrian then cast a cynical look at Patch. ‘Will that thing be able to keep up?’

  Simo tutted.

  Cassius grinned. ‘That donkey has been across desert wastes, mountain passes and hundreds of miles of ocean. You needn’t worry about him.’

  V

  Once again, Indavara had no idea where he was. The room was square and built of stone, with a dusty floor and a single wooden door. It seemed to him like an old hut or part of a farmhouse. There were two windows, which meant he got more light than in the ship or the covered cart used for the la
st few hours of the journey.

  He did know he was on a coast; the intermittent boom of surf and the cry of gulls told him that much. Indavara didn’t know a lot about geography and the few maps he’d seen had mystified him but he remembered that Rhodes was in an area with lots of islands, so he supposed he might be on one. Then again, they had travelled for eight days after leaving there – almost entirely in the ship – so it was no more than a guess.

  At least they were feeding him well. He had been there for four days and had received one good meal in the morning and one in the evening (and plenty of water). Warty and Narrow Eyes usually brought it to him and there was a third, older man who had been in only once to look him over. He hadn’t spoken.

  Warty and Narrow Eyes had beaten him three times in the days after his attempted escape. Indavara had curled up tight, covered his head and restricted the damage to a few bruises and cuts. The worst blow had been from Warty, who had caught him low with a boot. Indavara had been sick afterwards and unable to eat for a while.

  He was also able to move around a bit. They had replaced the manacles with a newer set on his first day in the hut. There was no connecting chain this time so he could at least hobble over to the latrine – a recently dug hole in one corner. It was deep; and one of his captors came in every day to drop earth on to the waste. Indavara wasn’t sure what to make of the fact that they now seemed almost to be looking after him.

  Despite the windows, day was little different to night. He lay on the bed (a pile of blankets) and drifted in and out of sleep. Though his spirits had never been lower than in the days immediately after Rhodes, he had eventually resumed his prayers. And now he tried to do so for at least an hour a day: simple requests for help and promises of future devotion. He asked also that Fortuna send him a sign that hope was on its way.

  The gulls – a type of bird he found hard to like – were now his friends. Both the windows were small and high, so he could see almost nothing beyond them but sky. He had to look for some time but occasionally one of the birds would fly past. There were a couple of other friends too: a mouse he had glimpsed speeding along the base of a wall and a large black beetle that had appeared three times. Indavara was glad to have them there. He wasn’t sure if animals had thoughts – Corbulo always seemed sure that they didn’t – but it gave him a little comfort to see other creatures sharing this particular part of the world with him.