The Black Stone: Agent of Rome 4 (The Agent of Rome) Read online

  Cassius grabbed the first enforcer and tried to pull him off, but succeeded only in ripping his tunic. Still grappling with Ulixes, the man lashed out, his elbow catching Cassius on the jaw. Cassius staggered several yards backwards, then tripped and fell onto another pile of sacks. Rubbing his jaw, he found himself enveloped by a cloud of something. Suddenly his eyes and throat were burning. He looked down and saw a fine grey powder covering the ground. Pepper.

  He raised his hands to defend himself but then realised the large, blurry figure coming towards him was Simo.

  ‘Leave me. Help Ulixes – we need him!’

  Indavara had backed past the cart and past the horses. Fortunately, the driver was too preoccupied with calming the animals to join the fight. The two enforcers stopped to help their brother up. He pulled out his knife with a shaky hand and lurched after them.

  All the buyers and sellers had scattered, though some were shouting at the combatants. Still facing his enemies, Indavara withdrew into the mass of barrels and amphoras, looking around for a better weapon. One of the brothers said something and the men spread out, trying to surround him.

  Ten yards away, Cassius blundered forward, snot dripping from his nose, eyes streaming. Simo had succeeded in pulling the enforcer off Ulixes and was stubbornly refusing to let go as the man reined blows down on his shoulders and head. Ulixes was still down.

  ‘That’s it, Simo,’ cried Cassius. ‘Hold him!’

  Surprised by how enraged he was to see the peaceful attendant being struck, Cassius picked up an empty amphora. Wiping his eyes with his tunic sleeve to make sure he hit the right man, he brought the amphora down on the enforcer’s head. It smashed into hundreds of pieces, several of which stuck in the man’s long hair. Expecting him to drop to the ground, Cassius was surprised to see him shake his head, let go of Simo then turn around.

  Cassius suddenly remembered how Indavara had handled an uncooperative individual in Antioch. Before his enemy could strike, he formed a fist with his right hand and punched the man on the ear.

  ‘Ow!’

  The enforcer crumpled. Cassius felt a grin form on his face as he helped Ulixes up.

  Still retreating, Indavara had just stopped by an old woman’s stall. Next to her set of iron scales was a box containing weights. He took out the largest one he could see but it was little more than a marble.

  As the enforcers closed in, one of them laughed.

  ‘Try these,’ said the old woman, lifting a heavy box up from behind the stall.

  ‘Stay out of it, hag,’ spat one of the brothers.

  ‘Up yours!’ yelled the old woman. ‘You bullies think you run Petra – it’s good to see you get your arses kicked for a change.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Indavara, grabbing a weight that almost filled his hand. He took aim at the closest man and let fly. The iron ball hit the enforcer on the chest with a loud crack. He initially seemed unaffected, but then sank to his knees, teeth grinding.

  ‘Who’s next?’

  One took up the invitation by leaping over a row of amphoras and charging. Indavara couldn’t miss. This weight was even heavier and struck his foe on the thigh. The shock of the impact caused the enforcer to drop his knife and lose his footing. He careened past Indavara and into the stall. The old woman chuckled as a tray of something green and leafy landed on his head.

  Indavara drew his dagger and moved into a small circle of open space. The last man came on, crouching low, knife out in front of him. Indavara stood his ground and looked over the Arabian’s shoulder.

  The enforcer smiled smugly. ‘You don’t expect me to fall for that, do you?’

  ‘Up to you.’

  Cassius had plenty of time to line his second victim up and punch his ear. This time, however, the result was somewhat different.

  The man cried out but recovered quickly and launched a wild swing at his assailant.

  Cassius saw the blade flashing towards him but it never arrived.

  As Indavara’s elbow connected with his head, the enforcer dropped like a stone, the knife clattering to the ground between Cassius’s feet.

  He was still standing there, wide eyed and shaking, when Indavara grabbed his arm and guided him towards the street. ‘What was that?’

  ‘Just trying to help.’

  ‘Didn’t ask for it, didn’t need it. Come on.’

  ‘Well done, young man!’ cried the old woman.

  ‘Ah, shit,’ said Indavara as they neared the street.

  Simo was standing just in front of the cart, looking on helplessly.

  There was a man standing behind Ulixes: white sleeveless tunic, long hair, black sash. He was holding a knife to his captive’s throat.

  ‘Sorry,’ said the gambler as Cassius and Indavara approached. ‘I forgot. There are five.’

  The atmosphere inside the cart was rather tense. Cassius, Indavara, Simo and Ulixes sat on one side, three of the brothers on the other – all still holding their knives. The man Indavara had elbowed in the head was struggling to keep his eyes aiming in the same direction, the second kept checking his ear, and the third looked as if he were about to be sick.

  ‘Could have sworn there were four,’ murmured Ulixes.

  One of their captors yelled something in Nabatean and jabbed his blade at him. Cassius didn’t particularly enjoy getting a close look at the sharpened steel but he couldn’t help admiring the handle; embedded in the ivory grip were a sapphire, a ruby and an emerald.

  When the enforcer eventually leaned back, Cassius glanced at the others. Simo was mouthing prayers to himself. Indavara was looking out of the back of the cart. The brothers had pulled down the covers but there was a narrow gap in the middle.

  After a while, they halted briefly and Cassius noticed a section of pink rock outside. They’d been on the move for at least a quarter of an hour and he could no longer hear the noise of Petra’s busy centre. The cart then headed up a steep, twisting incline, the driver berating the horses while the vehicle rattled and the iron-rimmed wheels squeaked.

  When the ground eventually levelled out, they stopped. Two of the brothers guarded their charges while the third tied the coverings back and climbed down.

  ‘Move it!’ he ordered. ‘One at a time.’

  Cassius was last out behind Indavara, who was already receiving special attention: a blade pressed against his neck.

  They were on one side of a wide courtyard. In the middle of the space was an impressive fountain topped by a fine bronze Venus. The goddess seemed to be looking into the adjacent garden, where more statues poked up out of a sea of pale green fig trees and snowy almond blossom.

  ‘Over here,’ said one of the brothers, nodding towards the fountain. Cassius noted that he was not only the oldest but also the first man he’d attacked. The ear still looked red, even with his brown skin.

  As he followed him, Cassius caught his first sight of the villa. Built in the shadow of another immense rock face, the building wasn’t particularly large but every wall was coated in dazzling white paint, the marble columns veined with silver and gold. Three male attendants filed out of the main door. Two went to help the driver with the horses while a third listened to some instructions from the older brother then trotted back inside.

  The five enforcers lined the captives up in front of the fountain, facing the house. Cassius now saw that the family resemblance went far beyond the long black hair. Little more than an inch or two in height separated them and they all possessed the same muscular build, heavy brow and deep-set eyes. The eldest brother approached Cassius, knife at the ready.

  ‘Kushara, don’t do anything hasty,’ said Ulixes. ‘Remember it was you that jumped us.’

  One of the other brothers darted forward and tickled Ulixes’s chin with his knife. ‘Shut up or I’ll skewer your tongue to the top of your mouth.’

  Ulixes obeyed.

  When Kushara got within a yard of Cassius, Indavara stepped in front of him.

  The enforcer stopped, knife clo
se to the bodyguard’s belly. ‘Move.’

  Indavara did not.

  ‘Kush!’ The female voice came from the villa. Cassius looked but could see no one. She shouted a few more words in Nabatean and Kushara reluctantly withdrew.

  He spat at Indavara’s feet then waved his blade at the front door.

  ‘Inside.’

  If anything, the villa’s interior was even more luxurious than the exterior, the atrium stuffed with well-polished furniture, exotic glassware and a spectacular set of wall paintings. The artist – or perhaps the owner – seemed to have a preference for birds and cherubs. Even the floor was ostentatious; hexagonal stones coloured blue and green.

  Cassius, Simo, Indavara and Ulixes sat together on a long couch. The other four brothers had disappeared but on the couch opposite were Kushara and a bulky, middle-aged man who was missing virtually all his teeth. Attached to the other end of the studded leash in his hand was quite possibly the largest dog Cassius had ever seen.

  ‘Molossus,’ he whispered to Simo.

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘Used for hunting wolves.’

  It was essentially an oversize mastiff; hugely powerful in the shoulders and neck with pale fur and a fleshy black muzzle. Cassius wasn’t fooled by its dopey expression.

  ‘My uncle had one,’ he continued, ‘though not quite so big. One day it decided to attack my aunt’s cat. They had to stick eight spears in it to stop the bloody thing and even then they couldn’t get the teeth open.’

  ‘Oh gods,’ said Ulixes. ‘Here she comes.’

  Though certainly over forty, Zaara-Kitar moved with a purposeful, sensual grace. Her sleeveless, dark green tunic reached almost to her ankles and was embroidered with swirling gold as bright as the dozens of bangles upon her wrists. Her hair was cut short at her collar and almost as black as her sons’. Only when she came close did Cassius see the powder upon her face and the wrinkles on her upper arms. Wrapped around one of them was a silver serpent. Trailing along in her wake, head down, was a young maid clothed in the dullest, most shapeless tunic imaginable.

  Kushara and the other man stood up.

  Zaara-Kitar headed straight for Ulixes. She bent over, put her hand softly on his cheek, then raked her nails down it.

  ‘Uh! Gods, you—’

  Rage flashed in the lady’s eyes. ‘You what? Say it – I dare you!’

  ‘M-my apologies,’ stuttered Ulixes.

  The dog was growling. Zaara-Kitar glared at the gambler, her narrow chest heaving. Cassius spied streaks of blood upon one of her nails. He also noticed that one of the fingers on her other hand was missing. She pushed a strand of hair away from her eyes.

  ‘I don’t believe I have ever been made to wait so long for a debt to be repaid.’ Her voice was a soft purr, her accent that of an easterner for whom Greek was a foreign language. ‘I hope for your sake you have something for me.’

  She turned to Cassius. ‘Who is this handsome fellow?’

  ‘Master Crispian,’ said Ulixes. ‘A business associate.’

  Zaara-Kitar seemed rather amused by this concept. She turned her attention to Indavara, examining him from head to toe. ‘And you’re the bodyguard. It has been known for certain individuals to put one or two of my sons down but I don’t recall anyone ever managing four. Are you available for hire?’

  Indavara shook his head. So did Kushara.

  Zaara-Kitar pointed at an ornate high-backed chair which the maid brought over. She sat down and crossed her arms. ‘I have an appointment at the ninth hour.’ She turned towards Ulixes. ‘Give me a number.’

  ‘Fifteen aurei.’

  ‘My bookkeeper tells me twenty-five, when the correct amounts of interest are taken into account. Considering the trouble you have caused me and the incident today we shall call it thirty.’

  ‘My original debt was five!’

  She turned to her son, who – like the dog handler – had sat down again. ‘I do believe he’s arguing.’

  Ulixes held up both hands. ‘No, good lady. I am not. May I discuss the matter with Master Crispian?’

  ‘You may.’

  Cassius and Ulixes were sitting at opposite ends of the couch. With a wary glance at the mastiff, Ulixes got up and swapped places with Simo.

  ‘Well?’ he whispered, brow now beaded with sweat. ‘Do you have that much?’

  ‘Yes. But you do understand it will come out of your fee?’

  ‘Of course.’

  Ulixes looked across the atrium at a small central courtyard. He wiped his brow and turned to Zaara-Kitar. ‘We have it.’

  ‘I don’t see it.’

  ‘We can have it here in—’

  ‘One hour,’ said Cassius.

  ‘You two will stay here,’ said the lady.

  Cassius gestured for Indavara and Simo to get up. ‘Be as quick as you can.’

  Zaara-Kitar clicked her fingers and aimed a finger at an hourglass on a table. The maid turned it over.

  The moneylender smiled at Cassius. ‘Quite right, Master Crispian, because if there aren’t thirty gold coins here before that sand runs out, your “business associate” will be taking a trip to the garden.’

  ‘What?’ asked Indavara.

  ‘Just go!’ ordered Cassius.

  As the pair hurried away, Ulixes clasped his hands and appealed to his host. ‘Please, no. Don’t even say that.’

  ‘People talk,’ said Zaara-Kitar as she stood. ‘They know you owed me. They know you didn’t pay. You have made me appear weak.’

  She walked over to Cassius. ‘Do you see my missing finger, Master Crispian? I shall tell you how I came to lose it. My father loved sayings, expressions. He used them to teach us. Well, that and some other methods. As a child I loved honey; I couldn’t get enough of it. I won’t touch the stuff now – for reasons that will become obvious – but it was my favourite thing in the world. So sticky, so sweet. When I was three my father caught me dipping my finger into a pot. He sat me down and told me that if I ever did it again he would chop that finger off. I didn’t believe him. So I did it again. And he did exactly as he’d said he would. Can you guess what my father’s favourite expression was?’

  Cassius shook his head.

  ‘Actions speak louder than words.’

  With that she strode out of the room, the maid not far behind.

  Cassius looked at Ulixes. ‘What’s in the garden?’

  The gambler was too busy praying to reply.

  Kushara threw his head back and unleashed a throaty, savage laugh.

  XV

  Indavara thought he and Simo had done pretty well. Once at the bottom of the villa’s drive and back in the city streets their only real obstacle had been a busy slave auction. Once through this, a combination of asking directions and educated guesswork got them back to the inn.

  ‘How long did that take?’ he asked as they jogged past the auxiliary Mercator had left on guard.

  Simo had to take a deep breath before replying. ‘Fifteen, maybe twenty minutes.’

  Ignoring old Jabbal – who was sweeping up – Indavara hurried along to their room. He dropped down, reached under his bed and pulled the barrel out. Once the stopper was unscrewed, he began clawing out the coins. Simo grabbed a skin of water and poured its contents down his throat.

  ‘Come on, Simo, I need you to count.’

  The Gaul knelt beside him. ‘What shall we put them in? Master Cassius’s bag?’

  ‘That’ll do.’ Indavara took the satchel from the table and emptied out the contents.

  Simo had already finished counting. ‘Thirty.’

  Indavara scooped the coins into the satchel. ‘Let’s go.’

  Cassius reckoned at least half an hour had already passed. On the couch opposite, Kushara was cleaning his fingernails with the tip of his knife. The dog handler was alternating between picking his nose and stroking the dog. The Molossus was sitting upright, drooling onto the floor.

  Head in his hands, Ulixes continued his prayers. Having s
o far invoked all twelve of the great Roman gods, he’d also appealed to a few local deities and was now working his way through the Greek and Egyptian pantheons.

  Arriving back at the slave auction, Indavara was dismayed to see that the crowd had trebled in size. He soon saw why: upon a high platform were three young women being paraded before the crowd. Clearly from some distant northern province, they were tall, fair haired and clothed in short, low-cut tunics. The auctioneer’s voice could barely be heard above the whistles and shouts.

  ‘Balls,’ said Indavara. ‘It’ll take ages to get through there.’

  ‘Perhaps we can go around?’ said Simo between breaths.

  Keeping a tight grip on the satchel, Indavara retraced their steps then ran along a parallel street. At the far end was an open gate, but as they got closer he realised it was the side entrance to a private townhouse. The three-storey building was still under construction and encased by wooden scaffolding. Next to the gate was a pile of sand and stacks of limestone blocks. Labourers were carrying the blocks in for other artisans working with chisels and hammers.

  Indavara could see right through the property to the gate on the opposite side. Beyond was an alley. If they could get there and cut right, they’d be only a stone’s throw from the villa’s drive.

  ‘Straight through?’ he suggested.

  ‘There are a lot of workers in there,’ replied Simo anxiously.

  ‘So hopefully no one will notice two more.’ Indavara waited for the next labourer to pick up his block and return through the gate, then took one for himself. It was quite heavy but he got it up on his shoulder easily enough. ‘Quick.’

  ‘Oh, Lord.’ Simo took a little longer to raise his stone.

  ‘Come on, we’re running out of time.’

  The labourers had walked off to the right to deposit their loads but one was already on his way back. ‘Who are you?’

  ‘We’re … er … with the other crew,’ Indavara said as he came through the gate.

  ‘Oh.’

  Indavara winced but hurried on towards the side of the villa, Simo close behind. They walked up some steps and through a doorway into an unfinished atrium where more men were working on a floor mosaic. Just as the pair exited the other side of the villa, they heard a shout.