is he, sir?’
‘He’s here.’
Indavara was leaning back against the wall, still hidden by the door. Cassius took a step to the right and gestured for him to come forward. Indavara did so, warily eyeing those outside. ‘I’m sorry. I—’
‘No, no, don’t speak,’ interjected Cassius.
By now, the two sentries outside the fortress had wandered over and were questioning some of the men.
Cassius called out to them. ‘Leave this to me, thank you.’
The legionaries desisted but stayed to listen in as Cassius addressed the mob. ‘I am Officer Corbulo of the Fourth Scythican Legion and currently a member of Governor Calvinus’s staff. This man is part of my household and therefore under my protection. Any dispute is between him, the party concerned, and me. Not you lot. You should therefore leave immediately.’
‘But he—’
‘Finish that sentence and you’ll find yourself up before the municipal court before the day is out. If your idea of a pleasant evening is to be tied to a post and have the skin flayed from your back then by all means continue!’
Cassius had spoken with such ferocity that a dollop of spittle landed on Snub’s tunic. This was not the first time he’d admonished a large group of men – soldiers and citizens – and he always followed the advice of a centurion he’d observed to be particularly good at it.
Get in quick and sell your anger. Think of them as children or animals. They must believe it.
Checking first that no one was aiming a weapon at him, Cassius stretched out his arm and pointed the tip of his sword at Snub. ‘Now, I think it’s about time you vacated my doorway.’
He took a step, and if Snub hadn’t retreated, the blade would have struck his face. The others withdrew too. Cassius walked them all the way onto the road, stopping only when he reached the gate.
‘Disperse! Quickly if you know what’s good for you – I have a remarkable memory for faces.’
Only then did Cassius remember he was barefoot. As the muttering men trudged away along the street, he spotted Lepida and Helena watching from a window. He gave what he hoped was a genial shrug and returned to the house.
Indavara was leaning against the wall, recovering.
Cassius shut the door then sheathed his sword. ‘I must admit I rather enjoyed that.’
‘Thanks.’
‘Pleasure. Nice to be able to return the favour once in a while. So what happened?’
‘Don’t worry, just … thank you.’
He walked into his room and pulled the curtain shut behind him.
Cassius spent the rest of the day in the study (forgoing his usual trip to the baths) and finally finished sorting out the papers. He didn’t find much else of use other than an older list of informers with some different names to follow up. He was trying to decipher some of Verecundus’s scrawled notes concerning a previous agreement between Calvinus and the Tanukh when Muranda came in carrying a lamp.
‘Here, sir, you’ll hurt your eyes reading in this gloom.’
Cassius put the sheet down. ‘I should start getting ready now anyway.’
‘Out again tonight, sir?’
‘The theatre. Apparently
Brutus
is on after all.’
‘Who’s that one by, sir?’
‘Accius.’
‘Mmm. I’m not one for the theatre really. I do love a good mime, though.’
‘Can’t stand them myself.’
As Cassius placed some paperweights on the various piles, Muranda closed the shutters.
‘Sure you won’t be wanting any dinner, sir?’
‘Quite sure.’
‘Not really worth cooking then, I suppose. Not if it’s just going to be me.’
‘Well, I doubt Indavara will be going out, and when have you ever known him to miss a meal?’
‘He said he’s not hungry, sir. Just sitting in the kitchen he is, miserable as I’ve seen him. Must have been what happened earlier.’
‘He didn’t tell you what had caused it all?’
‘No, sir. I daren’t ask how he got on at the contest.’
‘The archery? The final? That was today?’
‘Yes,
‘He’s here.’
Indavara was leaning back against the wall, still hidden by the door. Cassius took a step to the right and gestured for him to come forward. Indavara did so, warily eyeing those outside. ‘I’m sorry. I—’
‘No, no, don’t speak,’ interjected Cassius.
By now, the two sentries outside the fortress had wandered over and were questioning some of the men.
Cassius called out to them. ‘Leave this to me, thank you.’
The legionaries desisted but stayed to listen in as Cassius addressed the mob. ‘I am Officer Corbulo of the Fourth Scythican Legion and currently a member of Governor Calvinus’s staff. This man is part of my household and therefore under my protection. Any dispute is between him, the party concerned, and me. Not you lot. You should therefore leave immediately.’
‘But he—’
‘Finish that sentence and you’ll find yourself up before the municipal court before the day is out. If your idea of a pleasant evening is to be tied to a post and have the skin flayed from your back then by all means continue!’
Cassius had spoken with such ferocity that a dollop of spittle landed on Snub’s tunic. This was not the first time he’d admonished a large group of men – soldiers and citizens – and he always followed the advice of a centurion he’d observed to be particularly good at it.
Get in quick and sell your anger. Think of them as children or animals. They must believe it.
Checking first that no one was aiming a weapon at him, Cassius stretched out his arm and pointed the tip of his sword at Snub. ‘Now, I think it’s about time you vacated my doorway.’
He took a step, and if Snub hadn’t retreated, the blade would have struck his face. The others withdrew too. Cassius walked them all the way onto the road, stopping only when he reached the gate.
‘Disperse! Quickly if you know what’s good for you – I have a remarkable memory for faces.’
Only then did Cassius remember he was barefoot. As the muttering men trudged away along the street, he spotted Lepida and Helena watching from a window. He gave what he hoped was a genial shrug and returned to the house.
Indavara was leaning against the wall, recovering.
Cassius shut the door then sheathed his sword. ‘I must admit I rather enjoyed that.’
‘Thanks.’
‘Pleasure. Nice to be able to return the favour once in a while. So what happened?’
‘Don’t worry, just … thank you.’
He walked into his room and pulled the curtain shut behind him.
Cassius spent the rest of the day in the study (forgoing his usual trip to the baths) and finally finished sorting out the papers. He didn’t find much else of use other than an older list of informers with some different names to follow up. He was trying to decipher some of Verecundus’s scrawled notes concerning a previous agreement between Calvinus and the Tanukh when Muranda came in carrying a lamp.
‘Here, sir, you’ll hurt your eyes reading in this gloom.’
Cassius put the sheet down. ‘I should start getting ready now anyway.’
‘Out again tonight, sir?’
‘The theatre. Apparently
Brutus
is on after all.’
‘Who’s that one by, sir?’
‘Accius.’
‘Mmm. I’m not one for the theatre really. I do love a good mime, though.’
‘Can’t stand them myself.’
As Cassius placed some paperweights on the various piles, Muranda closed the shutters.
‘Sure you won’t be wanting any dinner, sir?’
‘Quite sure.’
‘Not really worth cooking then, I suppose. Not if it’s just going to be me.’
‘Well, I doubt Indavara will be going out, and when have you ever known him to miss a meal?’
‘He said he’s not hungry, sir. Just sitting in the kitchen he is, miserable as I’ve seen him. Must have been what happened earlier.’
‘He didn’t tell you what had caused it all?’
‘No, sir. I daren’t ask how he got on at the contest.’
‘The archery? The final? That was today?’
‘Yes,
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