They walked back to the house, Simo leading their horses and Patch. The streets of the capital were quiet but Cassius drew a little comfort from the familiar sights. Yet everything seemed slightly different now, as if viewed through new eyes.
He turned to Simo. ‘I will take you down to the market tomorrow so I suggest you get your affairs in order tonight. You should take a sample of your writing — that will help you get a decent post. Do not mention the matter to Indavara. Is that clear?’
Simo kept quiet.
‘I said is that clear? I remain your master until you are purchased by a dealer.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Cassius threw up a hand in frustration. ‘Gods, it’s not all bad, man. You would prefer a quieter life. If your new master lives here you might even be able to continue attending the church-house.’
‘I have seen what other slaves are put through, sir. It is one of the great blessings of my life that I have worked for two kind masters. I could not possibly be so fortunate a third time.’
‘Do not try to make me feel sorry for you,’ said Cassius as they turned onto the Via Cappadocia, the walls of the fortress looming up ahead.
He was glad to reach the house without seeing Lepida or anyone else. The only thing he was looking forward to was meeting Indavara and Mercator and whoever else had made it back alive.
Muranda opened the door. ‘Master Cassius!’
He walked straight past her.
‘Master Indavara has been worried sick. He was so relieved when that messenger came from the governor.’
‘Where is he?’
‘He waited here all day but that soldier came round about an hour ago with some other men. They were going to a tavern, I think.’
‘Soldier? Mercator?’
‘Yes, sir.’
Cassius unclipped the brooch holding his cloak together and handed the garment to Muranda.
She looked past him at the street. ‘Ah, and Simo too.’
‘They didn’t say which tavern?’ asked Cassius.
She shook her head. ‘You really have caught the sun, sir. My, you’ve lost some weight too.’
‘Make sure my bed’s ready.’ He walked back outside and spoke to Simo. ‘Get unpacked then get the horses stabled.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Cassius lowered his voice. ‘Indavara will be back here later. You will not tell him. I don’t want any fuss.’
Simo gestured at the mule. ‘Sir, what about Patch?’
Cassius was already on his way.
They had raised a toast to every dead man, each of them speaking his full name. Nothing was said after that and when some loud drinking competition began on the other side of the tavern, Nobus, Damon and Apollinaris drifted away to investigate. Most of the drinkers were Viridio’s men. Once the decurion had heard they were heading north with their precious cargo, he had volunteered to escort them up the Via Traiana. Entering the city with one hundred camel-riders had been an experience Indavara would not forget.
‘Thanks for coming with me today,’ said Mercator as he took a pickled walnut from a bowl with his left hand (the right was still heavily bandaged). ‘I don’t think I could have faced a second day doing that alone.’
‘It’s a shame Corbulo wasn’t here. He’s good with words. Women too.’
They had been to visit the wives and parents of all the dead auxiliaries. Indavara hadn’t spoken, just stood alongside Mercator. The optio had said they’d been on a scouting mission for the governor. Essential work. The men had died fighting enemies of Rome and Arabia; died bravely, died well. More than one wife had asked about the money but Tribune Pontius wouldn’t release the funds yet — not until Corbulo returned.
Indavara could not forget the last visit, to Yorvah’s sister Marcella. She had heard from the other relatives that her brother had been lost and that Mercator would be coming. Even though she knew him, she had refused to open the door, as if she could somehow stave off the news. But she had listened as he spoke, and they’d heard her slump to the floor, weeping. Despite Mercator’s pleas, she still wouldn’t let them in.
Indavara had mixed feelings about what he guessed he could now call his fellow soldiers. Unlike his time as a fighter, he had allowed himself to grow close to them and the loss of men like Yorvah and Andal was hard to take. Then again, he’d made new friends in Mercator and the other surviving auxiliaries. They’d known each other only for a few weeks but — as with Corbulo and Simo — the bonds of those who’d fought together were strong. Though memories of his old life remained lost to him, the feeling was somehow familiar.
‘Perhaps I should go back to the house,’ he said. ‘They might be there by now.’
‘Stay and drink with me. I’ve got to report back to my unit tomorrow.’
Indavara nodded and sipped his wine.
Mercator said, ‘I must admit I’m curious to hear how in Hades they got out of Galanaq.’
‘No more talk about what’s happening down there?’
‘Not that I’ve heard. I hope the governor finds a way to keep the peace. I don’t want to ever see those mountains again.’
‘Do you think you’ll get your promotion?’
Mercator waited for a roar from the revellers to die down. ‘I’ve been thinking about that. Maybe I’m better off as an optio.’
‘You’re a good leader. Good fighter too.’
‘It’s not the fighting that worries me. It’s days like today.’
Cassius had already checked three taverns. Most of the soldiers’ hostelries were in an area not far from the fortress. One street was known to be popular with the auxiliaries, particularly a big place called the Grass Crown.
He was almost there when he heard a soft voice call his name. Standing in the doorway of another tavern was the Persian bar girl. She was wearing a long, pale blue stola, her slender arms weighed down with bangles. Her hair was laced with ribbons and huge gold rings hung from her ears. She really did look like Golpari.
‘Cassius, isn’t it?’
The doorman rolled his eyes as she sashayed out to the street.
‘It is.’
‘Surely you haven’t forgotten me. I’m Delkash.’
‘Of course.’
She took his hand. ‘I thought you were going to come and visit me.’
‘I was.’
Even though the doorman and several passers-by were looking at him, Cassius was almost tempted to go inside with her right away. Even if he’d been in uniform he wouldn’t have cared if anyone saw him. The stola was cut low across her pert, tempting breasts and tight against her long, shapely legs. Perhaps this was the way to drag himself out of this fog of guilt and misery?
‘Why not tonight?’ she said.
‘Why not? But don’t see anyone else. I’ll make it worth your while.’
Delkash smiled. ‘I’ll be waiting.’
He continued along the street to the Grass Crown. The doorman questioned and searched a rough-looking pair ahead of him but waved Cassius straight through. It took him only a moment to spy Indavara and Mercator.
Cassius hesitated; he wasn’t sure why.
But then they saw him.
‘Corbulo!’ Indavara jumped up.
Cassius walked over to him and they grabbed each other by the shoulders. When he saw a rare beaming smile on the bodyguard’s face, Cassius had to swallow back the lump in his throat.
‘By the gods, it’s good to see you, Indavara.’
‘You too. Are you limping?’
‘Twisted ankle. You?’
‘I’m fine. Is Simo with you? Is he hurt?’
‘Simo’s all right. He’s back at the villa. You’ll see him soon.’
Indavara seemed disappointed. Cassius moved past him and gripped forearms with Mercator.
‘Sir, welcome back to Bostra.’
‘Mercator. What happened to your hand?’
‘Not much. I’m grateful to have nothing worse. Come, sir, have a seat.’
‘I shall. No more of that “sir” nonsense, though, please.’