The Black Stone Read Online Free PDF Page B

Enough of this pretence. I have been an army wife for more than ten years and I am fully aware that it is the job of the Service to know things before everyone else.’
    ‘I wish that were true,’ he replied honestly.
    ‘Officer Corbulo was born in Ravenna,’ Lepida told her cousin. ‘He hails from one of the old families and is related to Gnaes Domitius Corbulo, the great general.’
    ‘You are kind, Mistress Lepida, but I’m sure Miss Helena doesn’t want to hear about me.’
    The look on the young lady’s face suggested otherwise. Cassius guessed she was around his age. Almost certainly unmarried or Lepida would have mentioned it by now.
    He continued: ‘Tell me, have you had a chance to look around the city? The theatre is really quite impressive.’
    ‘Not yet,’ the girl replied shyly.
    ‘Are you attending the performance tonight?’ asked Lepida.
    ‘
Brutus
?’ replied Cassius. ‘I thought that had been cancelled.’
    ‘It’s back on. Apparently the governor gave specific instructions that all should continue as normal.’
    ‘Ah. Well, Accius has always been a bit broad for my tastes, but—’
    ‘Perhaps you would escort us?’ asked Lepida.
    ‘Why not?’
    A bell rang out from the fortress, marking the start of the third hour.
    ‘Gods, sorry, I’d better be going.’
    ‘Is that an arrangement, then?’ asked Lepida.
    ‘Certainly. Shall I call in at the twelfth?’
    ‘Perfect.’
    ‘Good day, ladies.’
    They answered together: ‘Good day.’
    Feeling his spirits rising by the moment, Cassius placed a steadying hand on his sword and jogged away along the street. He didn’t like being seen to hurry in public but he liked being admonished for tardiness even less.
    Up ahead, a double line of cavalry had just turned onto the road, bound for the fortress. They were trotting along at quite a speed and several locals had to take evasive action. One unfortunate tipped his little cart onto the pavement. Bounding over a cascade of watermelons, Cassius nodded politely at the cavalry commander. The officer returned the gesture and bawled at the poor vendor, who bowed repeatedly as he recovered his wares.
    Once past the last pair of riders, Cassius crossed to the other side of the street. At the corner, he turned left onto the Via Petra and passed the city’s largest sanctuary. Equipped with an immense central fountain, it functioned as spring, retreat and meeting place. Water-carriers bearing jugs or skins gathered by the numerous pipes while richer folk walked the gardens or sat sunning themselves.
    Another hundred paces took him under the imposing arch commonly known as the East Gate. Squatting in the shadows were a pair of legionaries and four city sergeants. Noting his approach, they whispered warnings, but when Cassius ignored them they returned swiftly to their dice. Turning right up a narrower street, he heard a desperate cry of ‘Dogs? Again?’ Cassius grinned; the gambler had rolled four ones – the lowest possible score.
    A smaller arch marked the entrance to the governor’s residence. The two guards outside had been slouching but straightened their spears and their backs as Cassius strode past. ‘Good day, sir.’
    ‘Good day.’
    The residence was known locally as Rabbel’s House – palace of the last king before the annexation of Arabia by the emperor Trajan. Cassius thought it appropriate that few people actually used the word palace. Despite two colonnaded storeys, it was a blocky, rather anonymous building, and several of the city’s richer inhabitants could boast far grander homes. The governor had, however, done his best to improve the place: it was surrounded by a colourful strip of flowerbeds and watched over by Trajan and several other of Rome’s most revered emperors. Hurrying between life-size bronze renderings of Hadrian and Marcus Aurelius, Cassius approached the passageway that led to the palace’s central courtyard.
    Standing there with another sentry was one of