The Emperor's Silver: Agent of Rome 5 (9 page)

Cassius reflected on how their relationship had changed. Initially, Simo had insisted on calling Indavara ‘sir’ but neither Cassius nor the bodyguard had liked that. They now spent so much time together that they behaved very much like equals, even though one was a freedman, one a slave.

‘What’s better in life than food?’ said Indavara, wiping his mouth with his hand.

Cassius picked up a napkin and threw it at him.

Indavara ignored it. ‘Well, maybe one thing.’

Simo looked away. He disliked vulgar talk and Indavara usually didn’t mention such things around him, but he was on to his third mug of wine. It was a continual source of amusement to Cassius that the teak-tough bodyguard could consume so much food yet remained a lightweight drinker. He was an amusing drunk, at least.

‘See the maids?’ said Cassius, nodding towards the inn. ‘Sisters, you know.’

‘Yes. Pretty, eh? Simo, you’re thirty-three this year, aren’t you?’

‘Yes.’

‘Ever think about getting married?’

Cassius had often wondered about that. ‘What’s the Church’s view?’

Though visibly squirming, Simo answered. ‘The Church puts great value on marriage and a stable family.’

‘More members for the Faith,’ said Cassius.

‘So you want a wife?’ asked Indavara.

‘Perhaps. I am mainly concerned with my studies for now.’

‘You do like women, though?’ said the bodyguard. ‘It’s just I never hear you—’

‘Simo likes women,’ said Cassius. ‘Though he hides it far better than you or I. He likes larger women.’

Indavara cupped his hands in front of his chest. ‘You mean—’

Cassius sniggered. ‘Exactly, though he’s hardly alone in that.’

The Gaul started piling up their plates.

‘Sorry, Simo,’ said Cassius. ‘We don’t mean any harm. Indavara, it’s the Christians’ way to deny themselves the baser pleasures of life. They believe a greater happiness awaits. The likes of you and I and most right-thinking people know we need to grab what we can from the here and now. Speaking of which.’

One of the maids came on to the terrace, sandals slapping on the stone. ‘All done here, gentlemen?’

She was a tall girl with a mass of curly black hair tied up high. Her summer tunic was cut above the knee, showing a pair of strong but shapely legs. And though the tunic had a high collar, there was no hiding the impressive dimensions of her breasts.

The girl thanked Simo as he passed her the plates. When she leant over to take the bread basket, Indavara pinched her bottom.

She gave a little squeal then waved the basket at him. ‘Cheeky.’

‘You’re drunker than I thought,’ said Cassius.

‘Just grabbing what I can from the here and now.’

Simo sighed.

‘Any more customers in there?’ Cassius asked.

‘No, sir,’ said the maid.

‘And the other girl’s your sister, correct?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Why don’t the two of you come and join us for a drink later?’

‘Master Neokles wouldn’t like that, sir.’

‘Is he still here?’

‘No, sir. He’s gone to his friend’s house for the evening.’

‘So he wouldn’t know?’

‘We’ve still got to tidy the kitchen, sir.’

‘But you could come along after?’

The girl was biting her lip.

‘What’s your name?’

‘Kitra, sir.’

‘You don’t have to call me sir. I’m Cassius. Kitra – that’s Aramaic. If I’m not mistaken it means crown.’ He looked her up and down. ‘And by Jupiter, you are worthy of one.’

Even in the dim lamplight, the blush was obvious.

‘You and your sister will join us, won’t you? I hate to go to bed disappointed.’

Kitra smiled coyly then hurried away, almost dropping the plates on her way up the steps.

Cassius looked at Indavara and winked.

‘Every bloody time. I don’t know how you do it.’

‘A lifetime of practice. Listen, most serving girls are local – take a bit of time to learn the meanings of the names and off you go.’

‘May I be excused, sir? I must prepare your bed.’

‘Of course, Simo.’

As the Gaul left, Cassius pointed at Indavara. ‘Best start thinking what you’re going to say when they come. You need to work on your technique. I’m going to keep quiet.’

Indavara pointed at the wine jug. ‘Pass me that. Quick.’

The girls took a long time to tidy up. By the time they meekly ventured out on to the terrace, Cassius’s three-mug rule was long forgotten, though he’d at least managed to limit Indavara’s intake. Much of the intervening period had been spent giving the bodyguard some hints and reminding him that women liked to talk, especially about themselves. Cassius knew from experience that lowly girls in particular appreciated a friendly ear and a pleasant respite from their labours.

Kitra was clearly the more forward of the two. She came out with a fresh jug of wine and two mugs for her and her sister, who seemed reluctant to sit down or make eye contact with the men. As she clearly represented more of a challenge, Cassius stood up and took her hand.

‘And
your
name?’

‘Hanina,’ she said quietly.

‘Ah yes, it means gracious. Surely one so named will accept our friendly invitation.’

A slight smile.

‘Please.’ Cassius sat down opposite Indavara. Hanina elegantly lifted her tunic as she sat beside him. Her curly black hair was identical to her sister’s but she had rather more delicate features and a slimmer figure. Cassius would have classed neither girl as pretty but they were both pleasant enough, especially with all that hair and that smooth, dark Syrian skin.

Kitra was standing at the front of the terrace, peering up at the balcony of the house next door.

‘Come and join us,’ said Cassius.

‘I’m just checking that old mother Adelphe is in bed. She loves to tell tales on us to Master Neokles. We must be quiet.’

Indavara began to look twitchy when Kitra sat beside him. As usual, he pressed down his hair over his disfigured left ear. Cassius had told him countless times that his other physical attributes more than compensated but he remained self-conscious about it. Kitra poured wine for herself and her sister and topped up the men’s mugs.

‘Thank you,’ said Indavara.

‘Kitchen all done, then?’ asked Cassius.

‘At last,’ said Kitra.

‘Is Neokles a good master, Hanina?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘I told your sister, please call me Cassius.’ He gestured across the table. ‘And that is Indavara. Don’t let all the scars put you off, he’s just been in a few scraps.’

Indavara looked down at his wine.

‘He was just telling me how much he enjoyed dinner,’ added Cassius.

Kitra smiled.

Cassius stretched out a leg and tapped Indavara with his foot.

The bodyguard looked up at the girls. ‘I did. It was lovely, thank you.’

‘Hanina’s the real cook,’ said Kitra. ‘She did the bream.’

‘Very tasty it was too,’ said Cassius. He then waited for Indavara to weigh in.

‘It was,’ said the bodyguard after an awkward pause. ‘Very … lemony.’

Cassius rolled his eyes. ‘Neokles is a lucky man. Personally I’d pay you girls just to brighten up the place.’

Kitra smiled again. Cassius reckoned the two of them could have quite a bit of fun together but as she was the friendlier of the two sisters he would leave her for Indavara. He turned to Hanina.

‘Does Neokles give you much time off?’

‘About an hour in the afternoon, sir, yes. When there’s not so much to do.’

‘Cassius, please. And what do you do when you’re free?’

Hanina looked at her sister. ‘Sometime we go to see our mother, sometimes we go to the temple.’

‘Ah, which temple’s that?’

Cassius had never met a girl he couldn’t get talking and as Hanina began to warm up, the other two were left to make their own efforts. Cassius listened in.

‘Where are you from?’ asked Kitra.

‘Pietas Julia,’ said Indavara.

‘Where’s that?’

‘A long way away.’

The maid drank her wine. ‘So how did you get to Syria?’

‘On a horse. Walked a bit too.’

‘Do you like Tripolis?’

‘Yes. It seems … nice.’

‘It’s not bad. I like being close to the sea.’ Kitra drank more wine.

Cassius thought about intervening. Despite his earlier enthusiasm, Indavara had clammed up as usual. But he had to learn.

‘What about you?’ he asked suddenly. ‘Were you born here?’

‘No,’ she said, ‘a little village down the coast.’

And off they went. Cassius switched his full attention back to Hanina, who was now enthusing about all the different types of fish that were caught at Tripolis and which ones went with which herbs and how Master Neokles didn’t mind her experiments because they always turned out well. Cassius found it all rather dull, and he now noticed the girl had thin lips (which he was not fond of), but the wine and the wait had made him keen to move things along.

He wouldn’t go too far – they might be staying at Neokles’s inn for a while – but he wanted at least a kiss before bed. After a few minutes he turned the talk around to Neokles’s wine collection and persuaded Hanina to show him what they had behind the bar.

By this point, Indavara and Kitra were getting along well. The maid was trying – but failing – to stop herself touching both Indavara’s marked, bulky forearm and his equally marked, bulky knee. When Cassius announced that he and Hanina were off to fetch more wine, the pair barely seemed to notice.

Hanina lit another lamp in the parlour then went behind the bar. Cassius sat on a stool as she showed him each and every barrel mounted on a large wooden rack. ‘Here is the raisin wine, here is the sour wine, here is the honey wine. Then there’s the Rhaetic and the Caecuban. And this unlabelled one is actually Alban. Master Neokles doesn’t tell anyone; he keeps it for himself and his friends – never lets guests have it.’

Cassius knew she wouldn’t take much persuading. Even if they weren’t slaves, maids and servants generally enjoyed minor acts of sabotage against their employers. Apart from Simo, of course.

‘I do love Alban,’ he said. ‘Have you ever tried it?’

She smiled guiltily. ‘Just the odd drop.’

Cassius grabbed his glass and her mug and emptied the contents into a bowl.

With a squeak of delight she poured them both a generous measure.

‘Wonderful,’ Cassius said when they’d tried it.

‘It is.’

Cassius put his glass down and leaned across the counter. ‘May I kiss you, Hanina?’

She surrendered with a coy pout.

Realising she was not the type of girl to appreciate an aggressive approach, Cassius kissed her softly on the cheek. Noting that her eyes were shut, he reached across and gently gripped her neck. He was just closing in again when a door latch snapped open.

‘Gods, he’s back!’

Cassius could tell by the panic in her voice that discovery might well endanger her job. As Neokles announced his return, he downed his wine and pointed at the barrel. ‘You’d better plug that.’

Cassius ran out to the terrace, where he found Indavara sitting sideways on the bench and Kitra sitting on him, one large, pale breast encircled by the bodyguard’s hand.

‘Sorry to interrupt but Neokles is back.’

‘Gods help me!’ In her haste to get off Indavara, Kitra fell to the floor, giving Cassius a flash of her wobbling thighs.

He laughed as Indavara helped her up. Kitra rearranged herself then hurried back inside.

Cassius heard something smash on the floor and Neokles telling Hanina off. He sat down opposite Indavara, who looked as if he’d just awoken from a dream.

‘Bad timing, eh? You’d better not get too excited, not in your condition.’

Indavara looked down at his groin. ‘At least I know everything’s working.’

‘Again – really didn’t need to know that.’

Neokles popped his head outside. ‘I do apologise for the noise, Master Crispian. I trust these wretched girls haven’t disturbed you.’

‘Oh, not at all. On the contrary, they were most compliant.’

The mosaic that took up most of one wall was a simple geometric pattern: hundreds of red and white triangles. After a while, Cassius’s eyes began to swim. He looked away and shook his head.

‘Hangover, sir?’ asked Simo, who was standing beside the only window.

‘No.’ He was angry with himself for breaking his three-mug rule – by some distance.

The servant standing outside the waiting room drew back the curtain and a new man walked in. Cassius had so far been through three of them and was starting to get annoyed. Even so, he stood and offered his hand; it usually paid to be polite at first – other tactics could be deployed if necessary.

‘Good day.’ This fellow was about thirty; well built but with the pasty, unmarked skin of a career bureaucrat.

They shook forearms; Cassius was purposefully forceful. ‘Officer Crispian, Imperial Security.’

‘Assistant Procurator Dominicus.’ He looked down at the table. Lying across it was Cassius’s ceremonial spearhead.

‘At last, a man of standing. I do hope you can help me.’

‘What is it exactly you need from us? My subordinates didn’t seem entirely clear.’