page were the notes Cassius had made while trying to re-establish contact. He’d secured meetings with only two of the men; one had never turned up, the other had blankly refused to discuss anything relating to the Tanukh.
Cassius dropped the pages and sat down. How could he help the governor find out more about the Ruwaffa attack and the chiefs? Calvinus had his emissaries, but they moved through official channels and seemed to have made little progress.
If in doubt, make a list.
His mother’s maxim for taking on a big task had always served him well so he reached for a blank sheet. He had no idea where his pen case was so he fished the charcoal out of the satchel and started writing.
Informers – check again. New ones?
Spice market – ask around, or get someone else to.
Moneylenders?
Army scouts?
Merchants?
Will need bribe money. A lot.
Cassius felt something brush his ankle. He looked down and watched the cat slink past. Imagining fleas jumping from its fur onto his exposed leg, he waved a hand at it.
‘Clear off, you.’
When it came to the animal kingdom, Cassius really only liked horses – as long as he didn’t have to look after them, of course. Dogs and cats he detested equally, and he had no idea why anyone would want to keep the accursed things as pets. The cat sat down and stared at him.
This time he used Greek. ‘Piss off!’
Cassius was about to throw the charcoal at it when he heard shouting from the street. Then the front door crashed open.
‘What in Hades?’
Grabbing his sword belt from a nearby couch, he hurried out of the study and into the atrium. Indavara had just slammed the door shut. He rammed the bolt in and turned round. He was breathing hard, his face flushed and wet.
‘What—’
The bodyguard held up a hand. ‘Just listen. You have to do something. I think they mean to kill me.’
‘Who? Why?’
‘Auxiliaries. I head-butted their friend.’
Cassius could hear more shouts and rushing footsteps outside. ‘Again – why?’
‘Long story.’
Someone hammered on the door, which fortunately was a robust slab of hardwood framed with iron.
‘We know you’re in there.’
‘Come out and face us.’
‘Show yourself.’
A red face appeared at one of the grilled windows. ‘I think I can see him!’
Cassius joined Indavara behind the door, which was now shaking, the bolt rattling in its mount. Despite the situation, Cassius couldn’t help being slightly amused by the look on the bodyguard’s face; it was unusual to see him so scared.
‘You’d better utter a prayer to Cardea,’ he advised.
‘Cardea?’
‘Goddess of door hinges.’
‘There’s a goddess of … forget that, do something!’
Cassius looked down at the sword belt in his hand. He drew the blade and held it up so that the eagle-shaped hilt was visible. He then motioned towards the door. ‘Open it.’
‘What?’
‘Open it.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘I’m sure.’
Indavara retracted the bolt. The mob quietened.
‘He’s coming out,’ said one man in Greek. Others were talking in what sounded to Cassius like Nabatean.
Indavara lifted the latch and eased the door open, careful to stay behind it.
Cassius stepped forward, ensuring he kept the sword high. Every inch of space between the doorway and street was occupied. There were twenty men at least: some holding clubs, a few daggers. Cassius guessed most of them noted the red tunic first, then the pricey blade with the eagle head.
The fight went out of them quickly. Shoulders sagged, a few groaned, and some began to retreat. Not the man at the front, however. He was a flabby individual with a snub nose and beady eyes, his fat fingers clutching a fighting stave.
‘Where is he?’ Snub asked in Greek.
Cassius offered his best flinty glare. ‘Perhaps you are unused to addressing officers of the Imperial Army. I suggest you try again.’
Snub looked confused.
One of the others tapped him on the shoulder. ‘Sir. Say sir.’
‘Where
Cassius dropped the pages and sat down. How could he help the governor find out more about the Ruwaffa attack and the chiefs? Calvinus had his emissaries, but they moved through official channels and seemed to have made little progress.
If in doubt, make a list.
His mother’s maxim for taking on a big task had always served him well so he reached for a blank sheet. He had no idea where his pen case was so he fished the charcoal out of the satchel and started writing.
Informers – check again. New ones?
Spice market – ask around, or get someone else to.
Moneylenders?
Army scouts?
Merchants?
Will need bribe money. A lot.
Cassius felt something brush his ankle. He looked down and watched the cat slink past. Imagining fleas jumping from its fur onto his exposed leg, he waved a hand at it.
‘Clear off, you.’
When it came to the animal kingdom, Cassius really only liked horses – as long as he didn’t have to look after them, of course. Dogs and cats he detested equally, and he had no idea why anyone would want to keep the accursed things as pets. The cat sat down and stared at him.
This time he used Greek. ‘Piss off!’
Cassius was about to throw the charcoal at it when he heard shouting from the street. Then the front door crashed open.
‘What in Hades?’
Grabbing his sword belt from a nearby couch, he hurried out of the study and into the atrium. Indavara had just slammed the door shut. He rammed the bolt in and turned round. He was breathing hard, his face flushed and wet.
‘What—’
The bodyguard held up a hand. ‘Just listen. You have to do something. I think they mean to kill me.’
‘Who? Why?’
‘Auxiliaries. I head-butted their friend.’
Cassius could hear more shouts and rushing footsteps outside. ‘Again – why?’
‘Long story.’
Someone hammered on the door, which fortunately was a robust slab of hardwood framed with iron.
‘We know you’re in there.’
‘Come out and face us.’
‘Show yourself.’
A red face appeared at one of the grilled windows. ‘I think I can see him!’
Cassius joined Indavara behind the door, which was now shaking, the bolt rattling in its mount. Despite the situation, Cassius couldn’t help being slightly amused by the look on the bodyguard’s face; it was unusual to see him so scared.
‘You’d better utter a prayer to Cardea,’ he advised.
‘Cardea?’
‘Goddess of door hinges.’
‘There’s a goddess of … forget that, do something!’
Cassius looked down at the sword belt in his hand. He drew the blade and held it up so that the eagle-shaped hilt was visible. He then motioned towards the door. ‘Open it.’
‘What?’
‘Open it.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘I’m sure.’
Indavara retracted the bolt. The mob quietened.
‘He’s coming out,’ said one man in Greek. Others were talking in what sounded to Cassius like Nabatean.
Indavara lifted the latch and eased the door open, careful to stay behind it.
Cassius stepped forward, ensuring he kept the sword high. Every inch of space between the doorway and street was occupied. There were twenty men at least: some holding clubs, a few daggers. Cassius guessed most of them noted the red tunic first, then the pricey blade with the eagle head.
The fight went out of them quickly. Shoulders sagged, a few groaned, and some began to retreat. Not the man at the front, however. He was a flabby individual with a snub nose and beady eyes, his fat fingers clutching a fighting stave.
‘Where is he?’ Snub asked in Greek.
Cassius offered his best flinty glare. ‘Perhaps you are unused to addressing officers of the Imperial Army. I suggest you try again.’
Snub looked confused.
One of the others tapped him on the shoulder. ‘Sir. Say sir.’
‘Where
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