by Nick Brown
‘Sir, you look like a decent man. I must tell you something. We are not slaves. We should not be here. We—’
‘I’m sorry,’ Cassius said tersely.
‘Sir.’ The clerk had subtly approached while keeping an eye on his master. ‘This Meliton – I have some information. Two denarii?’
‘We’ll see about that. Tell me.’
‘He was taken in by the magistrate’s men a few weeks ago. Him and some of his gang.’
‘Anything else?’
‘They’d been after him for a while. That’s all I know.’ Cassius blocked the view of the seller then plucked a denarius from his money bag and handed it over.
‘Where’s the other one?’
‘Don’t push your luck.’
As the clerk departed, Cassius walked away with the pleading father still calling out to him. His voice was surprisingly refined. Cassius continued past the Syrians, gesturing for them to follow him, just to get away from the man.
‘It seems Meliton and his gang were apprehended by the magistrate’s officers several weeks back.’
‘Like Tychon,’ said Kabir.
‘Yes, though that wasn’t related to slavery. Even so, I doubt it’s entirely coincidental – now that the various revolts have finally been quietened, the magistrates are getting back on top of things; more sergeants on the street, cases quicker to court, harsher sentences.’
Kabir considered this for a moment. ‘This is good news.’
‘Yes, especially if he hadn’t had time to sell the girls on. Wait here, I’ll see what he has to say.’
Cassius had just spotted what looked like the market inspector; a civic official whose job was to ensure transactions were lawful and order was kept. A well-dressed fellow, he had just arrived at the stone enclosure with the clerks and sergeants.
On his way across the market, Cassius spied Simo, now deep in conversation with a dishevelled man who seemed happy to talk. As he negotiated the eclectic mix of buyers and curious city folk, Cassius considered how to approach the inspector. Bribery was a non-starter; the setting was too public and he could not predict how the man would react (that was without even considering his limited funds). Cassius had hoped not to disclose his true status unless he had to, but Meliton’s run-in with the law left him with little choice, even though he would be leaving yet another footprint for Abascantius to follow.
The inspector was talking to one of the clerks. A couple of the sergeants eyed Cassius but said nothing as he waited beside the entrance to the enclosure. Their attention soon moved on to a voluble and very competitive auction unfolding at the nearest stage. The subject for sale was a squat, bald fellow who – according to the announcer – was one of the finest chefs in the Empire, and had cooked for senators, generals and kings.
‘Excuse me,’ said Cassius, when the inspector had finished his conversation.
‘What is it?’
‘Might I have a brief word with you, sir?’
Cassius’s politeness, distinguished accent and appearance was enough to convince the official that the visitor was worth his time. They spoke over the low stone wall.
‘Yes?’
‘Cassius Quintius Corbulo.’ He offered his forearm, which the inspector could not refuse.
‘Marcus Lartius Gurges.’ He was about thirty, well built apart from a prominent stomach.
‘Good day.’ Cassius kept his voice low and gestured to his satchel. ‘I am with Imperial Security. I have my letters with me if you’d like to see them.’
‘An agent, eh?’
Cassius was not sure what was coming next. It wasn’t just the army who disapproved of ‘grain-men’; administrators also often viewed them with suspicion.
‘You’re very young,’ added Gurges.
‘I was commissioned straight into the Service.’
Gurges shook his head. Cassius guessed this was going to be a struggle.
‘You lucky … fellow. I would have loved to have done something like that. I tried to join the army three times.’ Gurges pointed downwards. ‘Flat feet. I mean, I know the Service isn’t exactly loved but … it must be very exciting. Is it exciting?’
‘At times.’
Gurges looked over his shoulder. ‘And I’m stuck here with these dolts. Anyway, what are you investigating?’
‘I’m interested in a slave-trader named Meliton. I believe he was arrested recently.’
‘That’s right. A long time coming it was too.’
‘Oh?’
‘I believe he’d sold legitimately here in the past but more recently he’d become a major figure in the illegal trade. We had to supply some old documents to the court, even though he hadn’t shown his face round here in a while. I think he was picked up with a number of others not long ago. Wait a moment.’
Gurges walked along the wall and spoke to the sergeants before returning.
‘Yes, about three weeks ago. The magistrate has been cracking down on anything that results in tax avoidance – governor’s instructions, apparently.’
‘Has it gone to court?’
‘I’m not sure. Some have become legal cases, others not. Where the facts are beyond dispute, the judicial prefect has been handing down a lot of sentences without trial: mutilations, hard labour, that kind of thing – to send a message.’
‘I see. Who would know more?’
‘Well there’ll be records somewhere at the basilica. And anyone under the magistrate or the judicial prefect might be familiar with the details.’
‘And if I wanted to avoid official channels?’
Gurges thought for a while before answering. During this time, two of the sergeants hurried away to attend to some dispute.
‘There are several good restaurants on the Via Roma, of which The Golden Arrow is the best. By the eighth hour, many of the senior legal men will have retired for lunch. You would probably be able to find someone there with the information you need.’
Aware that Simo was lurking behind him, Cassius kept his focus on Gurges. ‘Excellent, thank you. Even so, I won’t know who’s who. It would be useful to have someone there to make a few introductions.’
Gurges – who had been leaning on the wall – stood up straight. ‘I am busy now but the market will be closed by that time.’
‘The Service would be extremely grateful. I’ll gladly pass on a commendation to my superiors.’
‘Really? Well, in that case shall we say the eighth hour outside the Arrow? It’s close to the northern end of the avenue, opposite the statue of Vespasian. Can I ask, what’s all this about?’
Cassius leaned in close. ‘I’m afraid I can’t disclose all the details but it is a matter of the utmost importance to the Empire. I thank you again.’
Gurges gave a slight grin as Cassius departed.
‘Well, Simo?’
‘I spoke to four people, sir. Two confirmed that Meliton was apprehended some weeks back.’
‘Anything more?’
‘One commented that he was glad he and his gang had been stopped – apparently they were known for intimidating the other sellers, fixing prices and so on. But even now, nobody would give any names. One man reckoned that he would know more.’ Simo pointed back across the market to the stage where the female slaves were being sold.
‘The dealer?’
‘Yes, sir. He’s named Hirtius; he has been in the trade here for more than a decade.’
‘Excellent. Well done, Simo.’
‘I’m afraid the information wasn’t cheap, sir. Nine sesterces.’
‘No matter. Come, let’s tell the others then see if we can get some time with Hirtius.’
Achieving this turned out to be rather difficult. When Cassius asked Hirtius’s clerk if he could speak with his master, he was told he could only do so when the auction was concluded. As it was still early and a new group of slaves – male and female – were now being introduced to the crowd, that still seemed some time away. Conscious of the impatient Syrians looking on, Cassius
told the clerk that he needed only two minutes of the trader’s time. He doubted that he could offer a bribe sufficient to grab the man’s attention; nor could he be certain that it would be worthwhile. The clerk passed on his message but Hirtius literally waved it away and continued to nibble on food plucked from a variety of silver bowls. The clerk turned in Cassius’s direction and shrugged.
‘Why won’t he see us?’ asked Kabir.
‘He’s more interested in seeing how much money his slaves make for him. We shall just have to wait; it’s not worth antagonising the man.’
‘You want to just stand around here and do nothing?’
‘Kabir, we’ve had a productive hour. The fact that Meliton was arrested will make things far easier for us. We should be grateful for our luck. If you wish to go and ask around about the girls, please do so.’
‘I will.’
‘A word of advice, however,’ added Cassius, ‘do not be too forward. As I said, these people will be wary of you.’
Cassius and Simo looked on as the nomads spilt into two groups: Kabir and Kammath hurried away, Idan and Yablus began questioning those nearby.
While they waited, the auction continued. Cassius watched Simo, who didn’t seem to know where to look.
‘You’d like to get away, I suppose.’
‘I won’t pretend I like it here, sir.’
‘Neither do I particularly but it fulfils a need. Slaves have to be traded somewhere. Better that it happens in a lawful, organised fashion.’
‘It’s their faces, sir. They don’t know who will take them, how they will be treated; what kind of life awaits. I can’t help thinking of poor Mahalie.’
‘The girl was unlucky. Her mistress was as bad as her master – cutting the girl just because she thought her husband was interested in her. Cruel bitch.’
‘I believe there are as many bad masters as good, sir. I have been fortunate.’
‘I don’t know about that, Simo. I’ve dragged you around most of the eastern Empire. You’ve faced Palmyran rebels, corrupt centurions, Arabian warriors. All a far cry from being an accounts clerk, eh?’
‘I suppose so, sir.’
‘You’ll never find yourself in a place like this, Simo. I pledge it. Have you ever thought what you’ll do once I leave the army?’
‘Perhaps settle in Antioch, sir. With two years of work I could become a teacher.’
‘Which would mean?’
Simo beamed. ‘That I could educate others, sir – spread the word.’
The next round of sales seemed to go well for Hirtius and his evident good spirits extended to inviting Cassius over. While his assistants readied the next batch of slaves, the trader stood up and stretched his legs. He was a large man with a large head topped by wavy, black hair. His tunic was maroon, emblazoned with gold lozenges.
‘What exactly can I do for you, young man?’
Cassius – standing below the platform – was aware that the shaven-headed bodyguard had moved to within a few feet.
‘Thank you for taking the time to speak with me, Master Hirtius. My name is Corbulo. I am an investigator working on behalf of those men you saw earlier. We are looking for three Syrian girls named Aikaterine, Marte and Dinora; all of whom are seventeen.’
‘We’ve had a few Syrian girls over the years. Don’t remember three together though – certainly not recently.’
‘They could have been split up. Perhaps you could check your records?’
‘With respect, why should I?’
‘Sir, these girls were taken illegally. Their families are distraught. You clearly sell a lot of female slaves and we both know that ownership documents can be forged.’
‘I do not handle illegal slaves.’
‘I’m sure you don’t. Knowingly.’
‘You are trying my patience, young man. I suggest you take your search elsewhere.’
‘One more question. Please.’
Hirtius looked at the stage. His assistants were positioning the slaves and putting the placards on them.
‘One.’
‘A man named Meliton was involved. He was arrested not long ago.’
‘And good riddance too. He gave the whole Tarsus trade a bad name. I hope they chop his head off.’
‘Do you know anything about any of his associates?’
‘That’s two questions.’
‘Sir, please.’
‘I have a daughter myself, though I hardly see her now she lives with her mother. So I shall tell you what I know. The magistrates got most of the gang and apparently their cover operation in the city was a rope merchant’s down by the river. It’s close to the biggest shipyard.’
‘Thank you.’
‘For what it’s worth, I hope you find these girls. Not everyone in my business is as scrupulous and good-hearted as I am.’
VII
They learned nothing more of use at the market and – with several hours to go before the meeting with Gurges – Cassius and Kabir decided there was time to investigate the rope merchant’s.
Tarsus was busy and with no knowledge of the city it took them an hour to find their way down to the Cydnus; the river which ran into the Great Green Sea only a few miles downstream. The Cilician capital was a centre of shipbuilding and they passed one large yard where the prows of two galleys poked out, one already complete with a great blue eye. Dozens of painters and craftsmen were at work, creating a cacophony of hammering and shouting.
Staying well clear, Cassius and his party strode along the top of a broad ramp that ran down into the water. As they continued along the riverside road, the Cydnus – somehow both clear and green – flowed swiftly past. On the far side was a long, low barge being pulled by a team of horses and several dozen slaves. They were struggling against the current and the cracks of an overseer’s whip carried across the water. Moored and anchored close by were several high-masted galleys and numerous smaller craft. Half a dozen women were kneeling in a row upon the bank, sorting through wicker baskets of shellfish laced with weed.
Next to the shipyard was a compound packed with timber of every imaginable form and size. Beyond it was a patch of open waste ground, then an isolated stone building with double wooden doors facing the road. Hanging above the doors was a sign: a faded image of coils of ropes.
‘There.’
Once they reached it, Cassius looked along the side of the building and saw a series of high, narrow windows. The adjoining yard was empty apart from a decrepit cart and a long-abandoned stable.
‘The back?’ suggested Kabir.
Cassius nodded then took a brief look around to check who was watching. The only people who seemed to have noticed them was a group of locals mending a fishing net, which they had laid out beside the road.
Cassius was first into the yard. Though the cart was missing two wheels, the muddy ground bore the signs of recent movement and there was a large basket with fairly fresh-looking hay in it.
‘Someone’s been using this place,’ observed Kabir.
‘It’s not that long since Meliton and his mates were taken in.’
The area at the rear of the building was a mess, containing an overflowing and malodourous pit as well as several piles of rotting rope. The narrow, arched entrance was secured by an iron gate, which required a key. The only window large enough to fit through was five yards off the ground, where the stone wall met the sloping, tiled roof.
‘Hello?’ shouted Cassius. ‘Anyone here?’
No answer.
He examined the lock and the door. ‘We’re not going to get through that.’
Kabir said something in Aramaic. Yablus walked up to the wall and examined the section beneath the window. He gripped some of the knobs of stone and ran his fingers across the cracks. He turned to his uncle and shook his head.
‘Simo,’ said Cassius. ‘Back to that yard – see about borrowing a ladder.’
‘Don’t think we’ll need it,’ said Idan, who had been pottering around beside the pit. The
veteran was holding a length of rope and a small, rusty anchor.
‘Ah,’ said Cassius. ‘Ingenious.’
Over the next few minutes, he found himself once again impressed by how the Syrians worked together. Idan and Kabir tested the rope, then Kammath tied it to the anchor. With his typical uncanny accuracy, Idan got the anchor through the window on the second attempt. It took five more throws for him to lodge it securely on the edge. Yablus – who was far leaner and more agile than his cousin – climbed up in a matter of seconds.
While Cassius was readying himself to follow, Yablus first disappeared then returned to the window to announce he could open the double doors from the inside.
‘Most convenient,’ said Cassius as they traipsed around to the front. Though it was impossible to avoid the attention of the locals mending the net, they slipped inside as subtly as possible.
The windows admitted slender beams of light that illuminated the interior well. At the front was an open space, then dozens of empty baskets and amphoras. Hanging from posts embedded in the walls were numerous coils of thick rope and several chains. Cassius recognised some of the tools he had seen used by the crew of the Fortuna Redux.
‘Some of this stuff will be worth quite a bit – somebody must still own the place.’
Kabir had walked past him and was close to the rear wall. ‘Look here.’
Piled up on the floor was some riding equipment and saddlebags; all dirty but usable. Upon a table were further signs of habitation: bowls, cooking utensils and a lump of bread, which had only just begun to go mouldy. Idan bent down and picked a few short lengths of rope and pieces of cloth off the floor.
‘Bindings and gags,’ said Cassius.
‘Blankets over here,’ said Kammath, who had ventured into another corner.
‘It’s well positioned,’ said Cassius, ‘away from other buildings but close to the river and the rest of the city.’
Kabir took a deep breath and glanced around at their sordid surroundings. Cassius could imagine what he was thinking.
Simo had not left the centre of the building and once again seemed uneasy.
‘Look,’ said Kammath. His cousin was holding something up to one of the beams of yellow light. ‘You’ll have to come here to see.’
