‘That’s better,’ Capella said, rubbing his sore wrists and walking back towards the corral’s entrance. ‘Now I’m going to wash my arse in the lake and then I would appreciate a clean tunic, a loincloth and something to eat.’
Vespasian followed him. ‘You said that you’d answer my question.’
‘I said that I might, but fair enough; I told Flavia that I was buying camels because I couldn’t tell her what I was really doing. I told her that I would be back in forty days because I knew that if I wasn’t she would persuade someone like you to come and find me. And I was right because here you are; she is very hard to refuse, as you’ve evidently found out.’
‘I’m here because I was told that a Roman citizen had probably been taken as a slave,’ Vespasian replied airily.
‘Bollocks; you’re here because you wanted to impress Flavia.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, it was my duty,’ Vespasian blustered.
Capella smiled at him. ‘Don’t feel ashamed about it, I don’t blame you one bit and, who knows, if you impress her enough she might even leave me for you, and I wouldn’t blame her either.’
‘She struck me as being very loyal to you.’
‘Oh she is, and will continue to be so until someone else can command her loyalty. She likes to make sure that her loyalty is well rewarded, shall we say. Anyway, she’s done her job and saved me from a very unpleasant end to my life.’
‘Which you must pay for; as well as recompensing me for my efforts.’
‘Quaestor, I’m sure that my patron for this trip will be only too delighted to pay out a measly few thousand denarii, if you bring me back to Cyrene with what I’m carrying for him. As to what
Vespasian frowned and glanced at Capella, wondering if he really had made his desire for Flavia so obvious. ‘You’d give Flavia to me; why?’
‘Because I’m tiring of her; she’s a big drain on my income and very demanding — although her charms go some way to making up for that. If you’re rash enough to take on the expense then you’re welcome to her, but I couldn’t give her to you; it would have to be Flavia’s decision. So let’s take that as agreed, then, and get going once your men have retrieved my possessions.’ Capella stopped by the corral’s entrance and proffered his forearm, smiling genially.
Vespasian took it, stunned that Capella would so easily give up such a woman. ‘You’re very generous, Capella.’
‘Am I?’
‘Quaestor, you’d better come and look at this,’ Corvinus called from over by the tents, interrupting them.
Vespasian turned and walked towards him. ‘What is it?’
‘Magnus has uncovered a chest buried beneath the chief’s tent.’
‘Ah good,’ Capella exclaimed, following, ‘that’ll be mine.’
They found Corvinus watching Magnus and Ziri heaving a small wooden chest out of a shallow hole in the sand.
Vespasian pointed at Ziri. ‘What’s he doing helping?’
‘He insisted; showed me where to look, as a matter of fact,’ Magnus replied as they put the chest down next to a pile of valuables retrieved from the tent; two keys were tied to a handle.
‘Yes, that is mine,’ Capella confirmed.
‘How can you prove it?’ Corvinus asked him, as Vespasian bent down and untied the keys.
‘That’s simple. I could tell you what’s in there and then let you open it, but I don’t think you’ll thank me if I did.’
Vespasian slipped the keys into the locks at either end of the chest. ‘Why not?’
‘Because the chest may be mine but the contents belong to my patron. I’d completed his business here in Siwa and was on my way back to Cyrene when the Marmaridae caught me. If my patron were to find out that you’d seen what I’m carrying for him, he would be obliged to kill you.’
Vespasian looked at Magnus. ‘What do you think?’
‘I think that it depends on who his patron is.’
Capella nodded his approval. ‘Your man is very wise, Vespasian; it’s always best to keep out of imperial politics, if you can avoid it. My patron is — how should I put it? — almost at the top of the imperial tree.’
Vespasian took the keys out of the locks.
Dawn was breaking and Vespasian surveyed the camp; the townsmen and released captives had worked hard overnight. All trace of the burned tents and dead bodies had been buried; areas of damper sand marked the positions of the pits, but they would soon dry out.
Everything salvageable had been loaded onto the camels and the hundred or so slaves had been roped into lines with their hands tied behind their backs. The freed captives and the townsfolk had formed up into a rough column; they were ready to move back to the town.
‘Lead off, Corvinus,’ Vespasian ordered.
With a sharp word of command from their prefect the auxiliaries leading the column moved forward.
‘Let’s hope that the Marmaridae come to the conclusion that their caravan was buried by the sandstorm in the desert and not by those townspeople in this place,’ Vespasian said to Magnus as they watched the column shamble forward, ‘otherwise they’ll be in the shit.’
Magnus shrugged. ‘Perhaps that’ll teach them to observe the laws of hospitality in future instead of getting their guests drunk and then selling them.’
‘Well, they’ll have all those slaves to sell next time the Marmaridae come calling; by rights I should try and reunite them with their owners but I think that would be virtually impossible, so I’ve given them to the townspeople in exchange for everything that we need to get back across the desert.’
‘I take it that you had a successful little chat with Capella, seeing as he seems to be coming with us.’
‘Yes, very successful, thank you.’
‘And?’
‘And he said that his patron would reimburse the loss to the province.’
‘And?’
‘And that he would let me have Flavia, if I asked her myself; and she so wished.’
‘As simple as that?’
‘Yes.’
Magnus started laughing.
‘What’s so funny?’ Vespasian asked, annoyed.
‘He’s sharp, that one.’
‘What makes you say that?’
‘I’ll bet he said: take her if she wants to go, she costs me a fortune and I’m getting bored with her.’
‘Words along those lines, yes,’ Vespasian admitted, taken aback by the accuracy of Magnus’ guess.
‘You’ve been had.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You should have made him swear to repudiate her, then she wouldn’t have had much choice but to go with you or find herself alone in a strange province without anyone to protect her. Whereas what he’s done is say: go and ask her, I don’t care.’
‘And I will,’ Vespasian asserted through gritted teeth.
‘Come on, sir, don’t you get it? She’s going to take one look at you, a quaestor in one of the least prestigious provinces in the whole Empire, who’ll be lucky to finish his term with enough cash to keep a woman like her in jewellery and perfume for the next couple of years; and then she’ll look at her rich man who has the contract to supply wild animals to the circuses in Africa, probably owns his own ship and has contacts in high places. What is she going to decide?’
‘I am wealthy, I’ve got my estates.’
‘Yes, but that money is tied up in land, mules and slaves. She’s not going to want to go to the jewellers with you dragging a braying mule behind you to pay with, is she? Nor is she going to want to live on the estates surrounded by bumpkins; she’ll want a fine house on the Esquiline.’
‘I’ve got cash,’ Vespasian almost shouted; his voice had gone up in tone.
