by Nick Brown
‘Is Korinna your mother?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Must be a bit lonely for you – working here.’
‘I have two sisters here also. We ensure Master Draco is well taken care of. And his guests, of course.’
‘I’m sure you do.’
‘I won’t be a moment.’ With another neat bow, Roxana went on her way.
Cassius walked over to the window. As an afterthought, he took his money bag from his belt and concealed it inside his tunic. He didn’t want his purpose to be too obvious and he would first endeavour to win Draco’s cooperation without recourse to bribery. What he had observed so far was informative but without some measure of the man, he was not yet sure how to proceed.
Thankfully, he couldn’t see the crucified worker from the window. He could, however, see most of the buildings below; the carts on the move and the men at work. From this high position, he could also just make out the higher ground at the edge of the salt flats to the east. To the north, however, the featureless expanse of white seemed to go on forever.
Draco kept him waiting. Roxana returned to refill his silver goblet but wouldn’t be drawn beyond pleasantries and left as soon as she could. Cassius paced around and eventually settled on one of the felt-lined couches. He looked at the collection of well-polished vases on the table; most were silver and of Greek extraction. In each corner of the room was a different kind of lamp-holder. One in particular caught his eye: it was five feet high, constructed of pink marble carved into excellent renderings of swans, goats’ heads and griffins.
Alone with his thoughts once again, Cassius thanked the gods that none of the plague symptoms had reappeared.
He heard Draco before he saw him. Issuing orders in Greek to both his staff and the artisans, the mine owner entered the lounge at pace. Cassius had expected a degree of vulgarity but he found it difficult to hide his reaction at the sight of his host.
Draco was barefoot and clad only in a yellow silken tunic that left little to the imagination around the groin area. His thick, shoulder-length hair had been streaked with some sort of blond dye. His face was that of a peasant: heavy brow, broad nose and fleshy lips. Cassius detested him instantly.
He offered his hand. ‘Master Draco, good day to you. I thank you for welcoming me into your home.’
‘You will excuse me if I don’t shake hands – sure you understand given the present circumstances. And you are?’
‘Officer Corbulo.’
‘That’s it. You will have to excuse all the work going on. It is endless! Let’s sit.’
‘How was your hunt?’ said Cassius, taking a seat opposite his host.
‘Not bad. A couple of small deer. There’s not much of any size around here – bloody locals have had most of it. I sometimes think I should start hunting them – do everyone a favour.’
Cassius couldn’t think of a reply to that.
‘“Officer”,’ said Draco thoughtfully. ‘Like a centurion.’
‘My rank is considered equal.’ Cassius had left his satchel on the couch. He took out Marcellinus’s letter, rounded the table and handed it to Draco.
‘My credentials. This is from the marshal himself.’
Draco glanced at it briefly then handed it back. ‘Very nice.’
Somewhat perplexed by this response, Cassius returned the letter to the satchel and sat again.
‘You have wine?’ asked Draco.
‘I do.’ Cassius gestured to his goblet.
‘So which legion are you with?’
‘I’m not. Imperial Security is a separate organisation within the army.’
‘I think I’ve heard of it.’
‘We deal with all manner of issues. In this case, I am operating on behalf of my travelling companions, who are valued allies of Rome. May I explain why I am here?’
Draco bellowed to Roxana to hurry up with his wine then smiled. ‘Please.’
Cassius briefly detailed the abduction and ensuing events. Draco seemed to listen without being particularly interested. While Cassius iterated the distress of the missing girls’ relatives, Draco nodded earnestly. As Roxana handed him his wine, he pinched her thigh. The leer remained on his face even after the girl had left. He tried to look interested again as Cassius concluded.
‘I see. So you wish to …?’
‘Question him – Meliton.’
‘You can have him.’
‘You wouldn’t object to that?’
‘Not at all. I know the army pays its due. I’m not in the habit of selling workers but each is worth about six hundred denarii. As I’m in a good mood, let’s say five.’
‘I can’t do that,’ said Cassius. ‘Apart from the fact that I don’t have the money, Meliton was sent here by an imperial court.’
Draco grinned, showing a mouth stained red with wine. It was un-watered and had left Cassius feeling slightly groggy.
‘You think they care? You think they’ll send someone to check on him? My labourers are here to be worked to death. Surely a man with a marshal as a patron can afford a measly five hundred. Tell you what, let’s call it four and a half.’
‘We have been travelling for weeks to track this man down. We don’t actually need him; just what he knows.’
‘Ah. Well, I’m sure we can accommodate you. You wouldn’t need very long?’
‘Hopefully not. Assuming he can give us what we need, we will aim to leave immediately.’
‘You mentioned that others you have encountered were not keen on giving up information. What makes you think he will be?’
‘As a condemned man, he has little to lose.’
Cassius knew from experience that this might not be true; he just wanted Draco to let him carry out the interrogation.
‘Perhaps.’
After a pause in the conversation, Draco reached down into his tunic and pulled out an amulet on a gold chain. It was shaped like a drop of water and appeared to be made of carnelian. It was hollow and half full of something.
‘Do you like it?’
‘Very … unusual.’
‘I had it made. That’s salt inside – to remind me to what I owe my fortune. Without those little white granules I would still be a poor man.’
Not to mention the endless, back-breaking labour carried out by your slaves.
‘Ah.’
Draco glanced down at the amulet, then looked out of the window. ‘You disapprove of me.’
Startled, Cassius straightened and instantly shook his head. ‘Not at all. What made you—’
‘It is difficult for men of your class to hide your contempt. I would guess from your accent and bearing that your family have been at the top of the tree for many centuries.’
‘Master Draco, if I have—’
‘Am I right?’
‘Well, my family are not … exceptional. We come from Ravenna. My father was a military man. Now he has several business interests.’
‘But in the right businesses, I expect. Not a filthy trade like this.’
‘Sir, I know for a fact that the courts of Tarsus are grateful for what you are doing here. And I am grateful for your cooperation. I mean that.’
Draco rubbed a finger across his thick lower lip. ‘You seem to me more like a tribune than a centurion. I have had my fair share of dealings with tribunes and prefects and governors. I grew very tired of the looks on their faces when they spoke to me. I think perhaps that might be why I stay out here. I’d wager I’m worth a good deal more than your father though.’
Cassius stood. ‘If I have offended you, I am sorry.’
‘I’ll give you half an hour with this man. My guards will ensure no harm comes to him. He is of no use to me if he cannot work.’ With that, Draco picked up his goblet and drank. He then stood and walked towards the window. ‘I’m sure you can find your own way out.’
XIX
Once back at the stable, Cassius took Kabir aside. He’d admonished himself for the slip that had soured the meeting but saw no r
eason to tell the Syrian. ‘We’re getting only half an hour. The guards will be there to make sure we don’t hurt Meliton.’
‘What if he won’t give us the information?’
‘Then we grab him. Either now or later, perhaps when it’s dark.’
‘Come back, find him and escape? At night?’
‘I know. So now it is – but only if we’ve no choice.’
‘Where is he?’
‘Not sure. A messenger came past me on the way down so I expect Caepio’s getting his orders and he’ll take me to wherever Meliton’s working. Judging by his employer’s attitude, you won’t be allowed to accompany me. If Meliton doesn’t cooperate I’ll give a signal. We’ll have to hit hard and fast.’
‘Not a problem,’ said Kabir.
‘And if they follow?’
‘Leave it to us. Ah, looks likes you were right.’
Cassius turned around.
Caepio – accompanied by four guards – was marching towards the stable.
The quartet had clearly been selected with intimidation in mind and boasted an impressive selection of scars. Like Caepio, each man had a dagger and whip upon his belt.
As they walked north to where Meliton was working, Cassius forced himself not to look at the scrubland to his left. Idan and Yablus had succeeded in not being seen but he hoped they had also kept up. Kabir and Simo, meanwhile, had gathered the horses and were ready to move. Kammath was in place to disrupt any mounted pursuit.
When they reached the gang, the overseer in charge bellowed at his charges to keep their eyes down and keep working. Caepio spoke to him briefly, then approached a man who was shovelling salt on to a pan. The labourer blew out his cheeks as he straightened up then glanced warily at the strangers. Caepio took him by the arm and escorted him past the other workers, leading his men and Cassius some distance away.
Due to his recent arrival, Meliton appeared rather better nourished than the others. Cassius was struck by how ordinary he seemed; a man of average height and build with a face that was neither handsome nor unattractive. His greying hair formed a ‘V’ upon his head, much of which had already reddened and blistered from exposure. His hands were in a similarly poor state.
‘Be quick,’ said Caepio, placing his hand on the thick handle of his whip.
Electing not to remind him that his master had stated ‘half an hour’, Cassius stepped forward. ‘I have come a long way to find you. I am here with the father of a Syrian girl you purchased along with two others from a slave trader named Tychon. I want to know where they are.’
Meliton examined his bloodied fingers for a moment then shrugged. ‘How would I know?’
‘There’s no point lying. You sold all the slaves in your possession before you were arrested in Tarsus. Who has the girls?’
Meliton frowned. ‘Who are you?’
‘An officer of the Imperial Army.’ Cassius wished he had a sword on him but Caepio had insisted he not bring a single weapon. ‘Who I am isn’t important. All that matters is where those girls are. Who did you sell them to?’
Meliton looked back at his fellow prisoners, who had all obeyed their overseers’ instructions to keep working. ‘What are you going to do to me if I don’t cooperate? Take me in for questioning? Put me back in prison? Please, I’d welcome it.’
‘What do you have to lose?’ demanded Cassius. ‘You’re stuck here either way. Just give me what I need to find these girls.’ Even as he spoke, Cassius realised how ridiculous it was to appeal to the better nature of the man.
‘Maybe I have something to gain,’ said Meliton. ‘You’re in the army – what can you do to help me? Can you get me out of here?’
Caepio chuckled. ‘What do you think, you cretin?’
Cassius had had about enough of this unfeeling bastard and others of his ilk. ‘I’m not leaving here without the information I need.’
‘I want something in return,’ said Meliton, who seemed to be growing more confident by the minute.
‘You admit you bought them and sold them on?’
‘Which one was the daughter?’ said Meliton slyly. ‘Dinora, Marte or Aikaterine?’
Cassius felt his whole body tense.
‘Steady there, officer,’ said Caepio.
‘Give me the name.’
‘Give me a reason to. Get me out of this shithole.’
Cassius let out a long breath, then looked over his left shoulder and crouched down on one knee.
‘What are you doing?’ asked Caepio.
‘Ducking.’
A moment later the first of the lead balls fizzed past. The second hit Caepio.
Face wracked with pain, the chief guard fell to one knee and cried out.
‘You really want to get out of here?’ said Cassius.
Meliton overcame his initial confusion with creditable speed. ‘Yes.’
‘Then follow me.’ Cassius stood up and loped away across the flats, heading north.
‘Hey!’ One of the guards gave chase.
The shot caught him in the leg. He dropped like a stone, shrieking as he gripped his calf.
Having checked that Meliton was with him, Cassius looked to the east. Yablus and Idan had broken cover and already reached the flats. Simo and Kabir were riding away from the warehouse, the other horses in tow.
The panicked guards had scattered, some fleeing towards safety. They didn’t seem to have noticed the Syrians. The prisoners simply stood there, watching their captors run.
Meliton tripped and came down hard on his front. Cassius helped him up and led him towards the edge of the flats where they were soon intercepted by Idan and Yablus. Idan reached into the bag of ammunition hanging from his belt and continued to fire at any of the guards that showed any sign of intervening. Yablus unsheathed his long knife and brandished it.
‘Not going to give us any trouble, are you?’
Meliton shook his head.
When Kabir and Simo arrived, Cassius told the slave-trader to get on to Patch, then mounted up with the others.
‘You go,’ said Idan, turning his horse around using only his feet; sling ready for the next shot.
‘Come,’ said Kabir. ‘He’ll cover us.’
Before turning to the north, Cassius covered his eyes and looked at the stable. Dozens of horses were stampeding away. Only one had a rider on it.
After a couple of miles, Cassius stopped and wheeled around. Kammath was now alongside Idan and the pair were galloping across the flats, their mounts’ hooves kicking up clods of salt. Earlier, Cassius had seen them turn backwards while riding and unleash shots at two guards who had staged a belated pursuit on foot. They had given up the chase some time ago.
Cassius took in the rather bizarre sight of Meliton sitting upon Patch. Even though Simo had spared the donkey the additional burden of saddlebags, the beast was unused to being ridden and was making quite a noise. Simo clearly wasn’t happy about the situation either. Meliton was eyeing Kabir.
‘What do you think?’ said the Syrian, moving close to Cassius so that their captive couldn’t hear. ‘Will Draco send more after us?’
‘If he looks at the situation sensibly – in terms of profit and loss – no. It’s not worth risking his guards and disrupting work. If he takes it personally …’
Kabir commended the other three as they reined in.
‘Those loose horses will keep them busy for a while,’ said Kammath with a grin. ‘I think I saw a couple of prisoners making a run for it too.’
Kabir pointed at a stand of trees twenty yards from the edge of the salt pan. ‘Over there?’
Cassius directed Meliton. The slave-trader had little choice but to obey.
Once there, Cassius was first to dismount. The ground was relatively hard underfoot, with deposits of salt visible in the standing water. Cassius looped his reins around a branch and came up behind Meliton as he slid wearily off the donkey.
Cassius threw an arm round his neck, pulled him backwards then let go. Meliton tripped over a
bush and landed on his back in a puddle.
As he tried to get up, Cassius drew his sword. When Meliton spied the gleaming tip of the long blade only a foot from his throat he stayed where he was.
The Syrians gathered around.
Cassius had acted swiftly for two reasons: firstly, to take some of the fire out of their anger; secondly, to control the interrogation.
‘Give me that name.’
‘Or what? You’ll kill me?’
‘No. I’ll turn you over to these fellows. It will hurt a lot more than dying.’
‘If I tell you, you’ll let me go?’
‘Yes. But you better be quick. We won’t be leaving you the donkey.’
‘All right. I’ve sold a few girls to him over the years. Only the prettiest. He pays well.’
‘Name.’
‘He never uses names – and he never shows his face. He’d send me a note when he was in Tarsus and we’d always meet up in a different place. He’d stay at the back – in the shadows. The girls would get undressed, talk a bit and he’d choose who he liked. He took all three of them.’
‘When?’
‘Like you said – just before I got arrested. I knew it wasn’t safe to stay in Tarsus but I suppose I got greedy – wanted one last pay out.’ Meliton moved his backside out of the puddle. ‘Cost me everything.’
‘That’s it?’ said Kabir.
‘What else do you know?’ hissed Kammath. ‘We need more.’
‘I don’t know any more.’
Kammath stormed forward, wrenching his knife from the sheath.
Cassius made no attempt to stop him. He needed their anger now, to ensure the criminal really gave up all he knew.
Meliton threw up his hands just as the Syrian reached him. ‘Wait! Listen, I know this other trader; he’d sold to this man before. He knew a little about him. No name but that he belonged to this group up in Byzantium – they own some villa where rich men can get the most beautiful girls from all over the Empire and do whatever they like to them.’
‘Byzantium?’ said Cassius. ‘What else?’
‘They have this nickname – because they do what they want and take what they want. They call themselves The Earthly Gods. I swear on my life that is all I know. That is everything.’
