Simo tried to speak to him, but the old man wouldn’t stop.
‘He says the mine is his, sir. He has claimed it. We cannot set foot on his property.’
‘Tell him-’
The old man was getting louder.
‘Tell him to shut up.’
Cassius continued in Latin before Simo could translate.
‘Shut up!’
But the old man only stopped when a dagger embedded itself in the ground between his feet. Indavara fixed him with an implacable stare and raised a finger to his mouth. The old man watched in silence as he dismounted.
‘Simo,’ Cassius continued, ‘tell him that if he doesn’t stay quiet, I’ll have Indavara here tie him to that post over there and use him for target practice.’
Simo translated. The old man stepped away from the knife and nodded.
‘Explain that we mean him no harm and we have no designs on his mine.’ Cassius pointed at a second timber-built shack. ‘We simply need shelter for the night. We’ll move on in the morning. Now ask him about the men and the cart.’
As Simo began, Cassius slid down off his saddle and looked along the road. It bore right around the spoil heap then disappeared from view. If his hunch about the raiding party heading north proved correct, they might be close to getting some answers. If he was wrong, the efforts and trials of the previous day and night had been for nothing.
‘Sir, he will give us permission to stay but if he sees anyone go near the mine entrance he’ll strike them down at once.’
Indavara grinned as he pulled his dagger out of the ground.
‘Terrifying,’ said Cassius. ‘Has he seen anything?’
‘Four riders came past last week but didn’t stop. Some time before that he did see some men with a big cart. He thinks they were slave-traders.’
‘Here? I doubt it.’
Simo shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t take his opinions too seriously, sir.’
‘How many of them were there?
Cassius waited impatiently for the translation.
‘Twenty or more.’
‘Palmyrans?’
‘He says no.’
‘Why did he think they were slave-traders?’
‘Because one man was being towed along on foot by a rope round his neck.’
‘One prisoner,’ said Cassius. ‘Gods — it might have been Gregorius. How tall was he, this prisoner?’
‘He doesn’t remember.’
‘What colour hair?’
‘He can’t remember anything about him. Just a man, he says.’
‘All right. Last question. Which way were they going?’
No translation was needed this time. The old man pointed down the road, towards the other mines.
‘Another salubrious locale,’ Cassius remarked as he laid out a blanket at one end of the shack.
Indavara was sitting opposite him, sharpening his dagger with a flint. Behind him was a pile of rusting mining implements. Simo was outside, preparing dinner.
‘Truly a treat to work for old Abascantius, isn’t it?’ Cassius added as he lay down.
Indavara didn’t reply.
‘Bodyguard, I spoke to you. Perhaps you could do me the courtesy of responding.’
‘What? Oh, I don’t care that much. I like being outside. All the open space.’
‘I must say I was surprised you’d not heard of Mercury’s Heaps; and I’ve not once seen you pray or make an offering since we met. Who are your gods?’
‘I have only one.’
‘You’re a Christian? A Jew?’
Indavara shook his head, as if the words meant nothing to him.
‘How unusual,’ Cassius continued. ‘Who is this single god?’
‘Fortuna.’
Cassius laughed. ‘Everyone prays to Fortuna. That’s a given. There must be some others.’
Indavara looked hard at the dagger as he whipped the flint along the blade.
‘All right then,’ said Cassius. ‘Why just Fortuna?’
Indavara pulled out the figurine and showed it to Cassius but said nothing.
‘It’s a bit on the small side; if Fortuna’s the only god you pray to, you might want to show her a bit more respect.’
Indavara contemplated this.
‘You weren’t allowed many possessions, I suppose.’
‘A woman threw it to me after a fight.’
Cassius propped himself up on one elbow. ‘Ah yes — the women. They love you fighters, don’t they? All that bare flesh and blood-letting. I’ve heard the more forward of them go to the cells late at night. You had your share of visitors, I expect.’
Indavara looked at the ground.
Cassius chuckled. ‘Relax. I’ll not press you for details.’
Indavara carefully returned the figurine to its place behind his belt and went back to work with the flint.
‘What about your people’s gods? After all you must have been through, you’ve never asked them for help?’
Again receiving no reply, Cassius came to his own conclusion.
‘You felt that they’d forsaken you, perhaps. Given you up.’
Indavara stopped sharpening the knife for a moment and thought about this. Then he nodded.
Cassius decided they could do without a sentry — that it would be better for them all to get a good night’s sleep. Indavara reluctantly agreed but insisted on placing several empty bottles at strategic locations around the shack.
The ‘mad miner’ — as he was now known — had calmed down considerably when Simo had given him some food; and had even come over to bid them goodnight.
They lay in a triangle around some stones Simo had heated in the fire, Indavara closest to the door. Cassius observed how he kept his right arm outside his blanket, two fingers resting on the handle of his dagger.
‘So, tomorrow,’ he said. ‘We need to check every mine on this road. If we see anyone, we stick to the story and go on our way. I’ll take note of the location and if need be we’ll return with legionaries from Chalcis. If not, we go inside and look for any possible trace of our prey. We’ll leave at dawn, and make sure we’re somewhere safe before nightfall. Clear?’
‘Yes, sir,’ replied Simo.
Indavara’s only answer was a guttural snore.
‘By Mars,’ said Cassius. ‘Just like a dog. When he’s not eating, he’s sleeping.’
XVI
They found nothing at the second and third mines. Cassius had expected to be rather more impressed but they were little more than holes in the ground surrounded by piles of sand, earth, rubble and rock. One shaft had been blocked off by criss-crossing timbers, another had caved in just a few yards beyond the entrance.
Halfway along the track that led to the fourth mine they came across a sign lying in the sand. There were two words upon it, etched in white paint: Great Mine. And when they reached the shaft itself, they saw the name was well deserved. It was the largest they’d seen so far, rectangular in shape and cut down into the earth at a shallow angle. Beyond the shaft was a huge mound of spoil that formed two great arms, also enclosing the road and two stone buildings, one of which had collapsed.
Once off their horses and sure they were alone, Indavara went to check the intact building while Cassius examined the ground in front of the mine. There were signs of activity but the rain had obscured anything so obvious as a footprint or wheel mark. There were, however, scattered streaks and patches of white. Cassius scraped up some of the familiar white dust with his dagger.
‘Quicklime, sir?’
Cassius sniffed it and nodded. ‘Tie up the horses. And prepare a torch.’
He walked down the short, sloping path that led to the mine. Outside the dark mouth were a stack of buckets and a pile of pick handles. It was impossible to see more than four or five yards inside but Cassius walked forward nonetheless — straight into a cobweb. As he pulled the wispy strands from his face, he felt the chilly breath of some subterranean breeze. The air smelled earthy, old. Cassius had never been in a mine before.