Samuel held the stones to the light, moving closer to the door of his shop to take best advantage of the sun. He turned them over and over.
"What do you want for these?"
Casca smiled. "I said give me what is fair. Surely you would not cheat a fellow stranger who is as far from his home as you are. I know your people and know that their word is their bond. Tell me what you will give. It shall be fair and I will accept it."
Samuel pursed his lips in wonder. This was a strange one. But, he was right. The Jewish merchants of the world survived only because their word was good, and all who traded with them knew it. A letter from one merchant to another promising payment in gold or silver to the bearer would be honored by any of his race as far away as the limits of the known world, and without question.
The Jewish merchants of the world survived because of this fact, and though the nations of the world might be enemies, the business of commerce had to go on. Even though the Jews had been persecuted and driven from their homelands, they were the only ones who could fill this gap and this everyone knew. Commerce was the key to survival for the sons of David and if they were to ever break their word, the blood of their people would flow again and they would have no place left on this earth. So, by necessity, they had become the bankers of the world. With no nation to call their own, they were bound only by their loyalty to one another and the oaths to their trade.
"I will give you twenty silver coins of Darius and one-half gold denarius of Rome."
Casca extended his hand to shake. "It is done." The business settled, the two men went to Samuel's private quarters. Drinks of mint were served by his bodyguard, who watched over the old man like a mother hen, reluctant to leave his master even when Samuel dismissed him with instructions to return to the front of the shop to keep an eye on his goods.
The two men sat across from each other, Casca commenting on the softness of the cushions they sat on as compared to his saddle. Their drinks sat on a low table of inlaid teak and enamel mosaic. Samuel served bread and salt. The two tasted as one and the bond was made.
"Welcome to my house and the blessing of The Lord be with you. Forgive me now if I repeat myself, but in this land you are in more danger than myself. Rome and its people are not loved here. I would suggest that you go on your way and leave the nation of Shapur behind as swiftly as your legs, or those of your horse, will carry you. If you have need of transport, I can arrange for you to join a caravan whose master owes me a personal favor." Casca nodded, sipped his hot mint, and replied: "I am not in as much danger as you may believe. I bear letters from the Son of Heaven, the Emperor of Chin. As you surely know, messengers are given favored status by all civilized nations and must be treated with courtesy. There is really no danger for me here. I do plan to return to my lands soon, but the trail over the silk road is long and I am tired and would rest here a while before continuing my journey. Speaking of rest, could you recommend an inn? One that is outside the gates for the timebeing. I wish to prepare myself before presenting my documents to the court."
Samuel thought a moment before replying.
"Yes, there is one. When you entered the city you had to pass through the old town outside the walls. Return there and ask directions for the Inn of Beshar; he is a thief but at least he is a cowardly one. He would think twice before robbing one with your scars of battle."
Casca thanked him for his hospitality and his advice. He rose from the cushions, smiling. "I hope to see you again, Samuel Ben Ezra."
The old man shook his head in the negative.
"I do not think that would be wise. My people are only barely tolerated here and if one such as yourself were seen here doing dealings with us it might lead to trouble. We Jews of the world must walk a careful line. I wish you good fortune but please, do not come here again. It could lead to disaster for us both. I am too old to move and start again…"
He escorted Casca to the door, remaining carefully in the shadows, whispering.
"Remember what I have told you. Do not linger in this land or you will live to regret it, messenger or not. I can feel something that gives the aura of pain. Go home, Roman, while you still can."
Casca bid the old Jew farewell and made his way back outside the gates of the city. On his way, he bumped into a man whose face was hidden, knocking the smaller man to the ground. Reaching to help him up, his left hand grasped the sleeve of the other's robe, jostling the hood somewhat.
He quickly pulled the hood back into place, hiding his face in its shadows, and brushed off Casca's attempted apologies. He stopped in mid-speech when he saw the scar encircling Casca's wrist. Looking up at the scarred face of this foreigner, the man quickly slipped from Casca's grip and fled down the street without further word. He moved with a feeling of urgency, disappearing into the throng.
Casca shook his head, thinking that the man was sure a queer bird. No matter, he had to find shelter for the night. He went to reclaim his horse from the hostler and asked directions to the inn that Samuel had recommended.
The feeling of being watched stayed with him as he made his way to the inn. Twice he'd turned around quickly to see if he could catch the hidden eyes that were eerily scratching at the nape of his neck, but there was nothing.
He grumbled to himself. Maybe he was just tired and a little edgy. He knew for damned sure that he needed a drink, a bath, and a woman. Not necessarily in that order.
It didn't take him long to find the inn. It was located in what was left of the onetime great city of Asack, before Nev-Shapur had been built. Now, there were only a few buildings remaining to serve the caravans and itinerant travelers that arrived too late to find lodging inside the walls of Nev-Shapur.
The inn was typical-two stories of sunbaked brick with shuttered windows to let in the cool night air and a small fenced enclosure that served as a stable for the camels and horses of the travelers. After turning his horse over to a house slave, he entered the large main room and was greeted by the lumbering form of the master of the inn. Beshar, in his usual foul mood, advanced to meet the ragged man in his doorway. He had no time for tramps. His belly swayed with each heavy step, face shining from the rich food he consumed almost nonstop from rising to sleep.
He was stopped from ordering the stranger off his premises when the squarely-built figure in the doorway opened his palm and tossed Beshar three small silver coins of Chin. Beshar's hostile attitude made a complete turnaround to one of fawning subservience. For what the man had given was that which he loved most next to food, money. Casca had sized him up quickly; he had seen the type time and again. The only things that men like the innkeeper understood were money and fear.
Casca locked an eye on him and affected his sternest voice and manner.
"I have come a long way, landlord, and will have your best room and a bath readied for me. When I have cleansed myself and changed into more appropriate clothing, I will dine. Try to find something in this hovel that won't poison me."
Beshar fairly groveled. "Yes, lord, forgive me for not seeing instantly that you are a man of quality. But with the light behind you, your soiled clothes confused me for a moment. I can see clearly now that you are indeed a man of substance. Rest assured that I am honored that you would select my poor establishment for your stay." He snapped out an order and a serving wench came over. She was as thin as her master was obese. "Throw the man from the caravan out of his room and prepare for the foreign lord." The girl started to protest against evicting the current tenant, but was stopped by a quick backhand from Beshar. "Obey wench! If you like the camel herder that much, I'll see about having you travel with him when he heads to Bactria. Perhaps he could trade you to the Hephalites for a couple of good dogs."