The Black Stone Read Online Free PDF Page A

bedroom, sandals slapping on the floor. Cassius was convinced that if she worked a bit harder she might lose some weight off her bottom half.
    ‘Just come back soon, Simo,’ he whispered. ‘Please.’
    His Gaulish attendant had finally taken the leave long promised to him and journeyed to Antioch to visit his father. The Syrian capital was a week away so Cassius had allowed him three weeks in total. But twenty-four days had now passed. He knew Simo had arrived safely yet he had heard nothing since. Cassius felt as if his entire life were in utter disarray.
    Seeing the state of the hourglass did nothing to improve his mood.
    ‘And why didn’t you wake me sooner?’ he shouted. ‘The meeting is in a quarter-hour!’
    After only a couple of days without Simo, Cassius had grown tired of putting all his clothes and belongings away, so in order to find things he’d decided to leave them all out where he could see them. Muranda occasionally popped in to take some washing but she seemed to have a gift for missing the dirtiest items.
    So far that morning, the only clean item Cassius had managed to locate was a long-sleeved scarlet tunic. He looked around for a cape but the only one in view had a stain down the front.
    ‘Tunic’ll do,’ he said to himself. ‘Now, er … sword belt, sword belt.’
    This at least was easy to find: it was lying on a chair by the doorway. Cassius grabbed it and lowered the strap onto his right shoulder, more at ease with the weight of the weapon now. The regular lessons with Indavara were really starting to pay off and he was almost beginning to enjoy handling the blade, though the bodyguard continued to insist it was too big for him. Cassius inspected the ornate eagle head at the base of the hilt and tutted: it too was unclean. He grabbed a loincloth and gave it a quick rub.
    ‘Er … satchel, satchel.’
    The deer-hide bag was hanging from a candelabra. Cassius undid the buckle and checked he had some paper and a stick of charcoal. He seldom made notes at these meetings with the governor but it always paid to appear conscientious. He slung the bag over his left shoulder and hurried out into the atrium.
    The curtain to Indavara’s room was open; an empty plate left on the bed. Wondering where he’d got to, Cassius hurried into the kitchen, expecting to find Muranda there. But, apart from the mangy cat that had taken to wandering in, the room was empty.
    ‘Muranda!’
    She came shuffling in from the courtyard. ‘Here, sir. Sorry. I needed the light.’
    Cassius took the helmet from her. ‘Well, at least the spider’s gone.’
    As Muranda stroked the cat – which had jumped onto the bench beside the kitchen table – Cassius did his best to straighten out the rough bristles of the crest. He couldn’t fault the maid’s manners but she really was a useless creature.
    ‘Shall I prepare a dinner for later, sir?’
    The very mention of the word made Cassius long for the innumerable dishes Simo could conjure at speed, every one adapted to suit his palate. By contrast, Muranda seemed unable to invest any foodstuff with a pleasant taste.
    ‘No. I’ll eat out.’ He aimed a finger at the cat. ‘And keep that wretched thing out of here. Yesterday I found a hair in my dates.’
    ‘Yes, Master Cassius.’
    He strode back across the atrium to the front door. Mounted on the wall close by was an oval, silver-framed mirror. After a few hurried adjustments to his hair, he looked at his nose. Simo kept telling him the break had reset perfectly and Cassius had almost believed him until Indavara cracked a joke about it one night. Now he could barely look at his face without fixating on the knob of bone. Apart from cosmetic considerations, he hated the fact that he’d been left with an inescapable reminder of his last assignment: a brutal confrontation with a rogue centurion.
    Muttering curses, he stepped outside, only just resisting the temptation to slam the door.
    The villa faced onto the Via