incriminating evidence gleaned from his neighbours was that he always needed reminding to trim his hedge. Cassius thanked the clerk for his efforts and dismissed him.
Indavara appeared for a while to eat some lamb and spoke briefly to the girls but went to bed early. With Simo studying one of his medical tomes, Cassius was left alone at the bar. The inn was now occupied by a dozen or so men from Neokles’s guild. Once they’d all had their fill of lamb, bread and accompanying vegetables, they sat around two big tables pushed together. Cassius exchanged the odd remark with the girls but once the meal was over they had quite a pile of crockery to wash up.
He sat there sipping his wine, thoughts alternating between what he’d like to do with the voluptuous Kitra and the counterfeiting investigation. If the gang were as professional in other areas as they were with the production of the coins, progress might be slow. It might become a laborious, time-consuming slog, and he doubted either Marshal Marcellinus or Minister Sabinus would be particularly patient. Even so, he remained hopeful. Quentin seemed sure that such gangs were not well established in this part of the world and this complicated endeavour would require a lot of people. Like any human activity, the greater the complexity and the numbers involved, the greater the chance of a mistake.
The girls took so long in the kitchen that Cassius considered taking a walk; he knew there were other taverns close by. But even though they were now so far from Bostra, it didn’t seem wise to wander the darkened streets alone.
Eventually, Kitra and Hanina returned to the parlour, their main duty now to keep the guildsmen’s glasses full. The fussy Neokles would catch their eye whenever one of his compatriots was getting low and repeatedly prompted them to bring fresh bowls of nuts and dried fruit. The innkeepers were getting louder, telling jokes and funny tales – mostly about guests past and present.
Cassius continued his charm offensive with Kitra and Hanina, adapting his style according to whom he was talking to. Kitra seemed genuinely concerned about Indavara so Cassius told her an old injury was troubling him. Hanina seemed keen to talk and spent her spare moments asking about his travels.
But when a guildsman returned from the latrine to announce it was blocked, the unfortunate girls were dispatched to investigate. Cassius would have retired then but his wine had just been topped up. He felt quite proud of himself; his last mug of the day was his third.
Talk in the parlour had turned to local politics. Cassius listened in and heard mention of several notable figures, including the procurator and the magistrate. Someone made a hushed comment and there was a moment of silence. Cassius turned and saw that half the guildsmen were staring at him. In a way the timing was fortuitous; it had just occurred to him that Neokles’s guests might be of use.
He got off the stool and walked over, smiling. ‘Gentlemen, please do not censor yourselves on my account.’
‘Apologies, Centurion Crispian,’ said Neokles, ‘I would not want you to feel uncomfortable.’
‘Please. This is not my city. Continue as you would normally. I shall soon be retiring, though I did wonder if I might ask for a few minutes of your time.’
Neokles stood. ‘Of course, what can I do for you?’
‘I meant all of you.’ Cassius looked around the group. ‘What is the name of this distinguished association?’
‘The Guild of East Tripolis Inn and Tavern Keepers.’
‘Ah. Today I met with Assistant Procurator Dominicus and I dare say I’ll be meeting him again. As a gesture of mutual cooperation, I could perhaps put in a word for the guild. Is there a particular matter you might wish me to mention?’
For a moment no one spoke. Then a corpulent character wearing a heavily embroidered tunic caught Cassius’s eye. ‘Excuse me, Centurion.’ He spoke a few sentences in Aramaic. The others
Indavara appeared for a while to eat some lamb and spoke briefly to the girls but went to bed early. With Simo studying one of his medical tomes, Cassius was left alone at the bar. The inn was now occupied by a dozen or so men from Neokles’s guild. Once they’d all had their fill of lamb, bread and accompanying vegetables, they sat around two big tables pushed together. Cassius exchanged the odd remark with the girls but once the meal was over they had quite a pile of crockery to wash up.
He sat there sipping his wine, thoughts alternating between what he’d like to do with the voluptuous Kitra and the counterfeiting investigation. If the gang were as professional in other areas as they were with the production of the coins, progress might be slow. It might become a laborious, time-consuming slog, and he doubted either Marshal Marcellinus or Minister Sabinus would be particularly patient. Even so, he remained hopeful. Quentin seemed sure that such gangs were not well established in this part of the world and this complicated endeavour would require a lot of people. Like any human activity, the greater the complexity and the numbers involved, the greater the chance of a mistake.
The girls took so long in the kitchen that Cassius considered taking a walk; he knew there were other taverns close by. But even though they were now so far from Bostra, it didn’t seem wise to wander the darkened streets alone.
Eventually, Kitra and Hanina returned to the parlour, their main duty now to keep the guildsmen’s glasses full. The fussy Neokles would catch their eye whenever one of his compatriots was getting low and repeatedly prompted them to bring fresh bowls of nuts and dried fruit. The innkeepers were getting louder, telling jokes and funny tales – mostly about guests past and present.
Cassius continued his charm offensive with Kitra and Hanina, adapting his style according to whom he was talking to. Kitra seemed genuinely concerned about Indavara so Cassius told her an old injury was troubling him. Hanina seemed keen to talk and spent her spare moments asking about his travels.
But when a guildsman returned from the latrine to announce it was blocked, the unfortunate girls were dispatched to investigate. Cassius would have retired then but his wine had just been topped up. He felt quite proud of himself; his last mug of the day was his third.
Talk in the parlour had turned to local politics. Cassius listened in and heard mention of several notable figures, including the procurator and the magistrate. Someone made a hushed comment and there was a moment of silence. Cassius turned and saw that half the guildsmen were staring at him. In a way the timing was fortuitous; it had just occurred to him that Neokles’s guests might be of use.
He got off the stool and walked over, smiling. ‘Gentlemen, please do not censor yourselves on my account.’
‘Apologies, Centurion Crispian,’ said Neokles, ‘I would not want you to feel uncomfortable.’
‘Please. This is not my city. Continue as you would normally. I shall soon be retiring, though I did wonder if I might ask for a few minutes of your time.’
Neokles stood. ‘Of course, what can I do for you?’
‘I meant all of you.’ Cassius looked around the group. ‘What is the name of this distinguished association?’
‘The Guild of East Tripolis Inn and Tavern Keepers.’
‘Ah. Today I met with Assistant Procurator Dominicus and I dare say I’ll be meeting him again. As a gesture of mutual cooperation, I could perhaps put in a word for the guild. Is there a particular matter you might wish me to mention?’
For a moment no one spoke. Then a corpulent character wearing a heavily embroidered tunic caught Cassius’s eye. ‘Excuse me, Centurion.’ He spoke a few sentences in Aramaic. The others
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