No one paid him much attention the first time he accompanied them. A few days later, when he went with them again, the Agoranomos asked whether he was a slave or in Simon’s employ.

‘He’s a Syrian, name of Domitius,’ Simon replied. ‘Hired on with my father-in-law during the last trip to Antioch. Don’t know much about him beyond that, but he has served well, so far.’

‘Indeed. Well, that is good to hear.’ There was no more, and no question addressed directly to him. Some cities registered anyone staying longer than a month, but so far no one had said anything about that so he did not know whether Nicopolis followed such a practice.

That day they made several purchases, so that he walked home with his stick under his arm and carrying a bundle of fabrics for Sara. As soon as she stepped into the courtyard of the house, she took off her veil and treated him to a lavish smile while indicating that he give the things to one of the maids. Domitius could feel himself beaming for the rest of the day.

‘Don’t get any ideas,’ John said to him later on. ‘Her father may be a fool sometimes, but he isn’t enough of a fool to let his daughter marry a man not of our faith.’

The third time he accompanied Simon and Sara was to the monthly market, the first of the year to see people coming from further afield than just the chora around the city. Streets were crowded, so that sometimes he went ahead of them to force their way through and one of the servants brought up the rear. Domitius worried about thieves, for sometimes the press was solid, and felt that a lady should not really be walking through all this. He had enough sense not to say this to Sara, whose eyes were bright with excitement over her veil. The pace was much faster, with more meetings and negotiations which sometimes ended with invitations to come to their workshops. Domitius wondered why they did not set up a stall, until he noticed that several of the merchants they had visited in the past were similarly going from place to place.

It was much harder to hear what was said because of the constant talk and shouts of vendors as they tried to draw customers to them. The Agoranomos’ clerk whispered something to Simon, money changed hands, and then they were off, into the heaving crowd. The men at the stall they went to had more than a hint of the army about them, though lacking the polish of the legions. It was enough to make him wary, for all that there was nothing the army could do to him here, not formally anyway, although there were men who might go to great lengths to hunt him down. The merchant was a slim, almost elegant, little man with a warm smile that grew even warmer as he and Simon spoke. One of the merchant’s guards had a face from a nightmare, and looked him up and down without much interest. Another, younger, smaller, and with a pleasant face even if a hard eye, stared at his feet. Domitius suddenly felt very conscious of his army issue caligae, although they were so comfortable that he did not want to give them up until they fell to pieces. Only after that did the fellow lounging by the barrels strike him as familiar.