‘Pollux! Do you think I’m a fool, Marcus? You’ve come to spy on Decimus.’

‘How was I supposed to know he’d be here?’

‘Where else would he be in a one-mule dump of a town like Mutina? You’d better get out of here before he spots you.’

‘I’ll go in a moment. But first you tell me what he’s been up to. Caesar thinks there’s more to his being here than buying up prisoners.’

Festus shrugged. ‘If that’s true, then there’s been no sign of anything suspicious. He sticks close to his men over there and they travel in the wagon. There’s been no messages delivered to them, and none sent anywhere.’

‘That’s all?’

‘That’s all I’ve seen.’

‘And no sign of Thermon?’

‘No. None of ‘em look like the man who tried to kill Caesar. See for yourself.’

Marcus half turned cautiously, and looked over the rim of his shoulder. From where he sat, he had a side-on view of the table, and in the dim light cast by the inn’s oil lamps he could make out the profiles of Detimus’s companions. None had the neatly styled hair and well-groomed features of the moneylender’s dangerous henchman. As Marcus watched, there was another cry from the men playing dice and he glanced over towards them. He saw Quintus’s face twist into an ashen-faced grimace as he crushed his empty purse in his fist and backed out of the ring of men still watching the game.

‘You’d better go,’ said Festus. ‘Before you are seen.’

Marcus nodded and rose from the table. He paused. ‘Keep a close eye on Decimus. He can’t be trusted. And he’s... evil.’

‘Evil?’ Festus cocked an eyebrow and smiled faintly. ‘Well, if he tries to cast a spell on Caesar, I’ll be sure to let you know.’

Marcus scowled at him, furious with Festus for being so dismissive. Then he turned and made his way back through the crowded inn. He paused at the door for one last, hateful glimpse of Decimus and stopped dead. Quintus had approached the moneylender’s table and was leaning down as he spoke earnestly with Decimus. The exchange was brief, and there was no mistaking the pleading expression on the tribune’s face. Decimus was still for a moment, as if thinking, and then podded. He reached down and took out a heavy purse from under his cloak, placing it in Quintus’s spare hand. The tribune looked round nervously before he slipped the purse out of sight under his own cloak. He quickly nodded his thanks to Decimus and hurried back to the dice game.