Free The Black Stone by Nick Brown

sir.’
    ‘Shit.’

    Indavara was perched on a stool by the kitchen table, close to the hearth. He was staring at the flames, idly stroking the cat. As Cassius walked in, the bodyguard gave him a wary glance, then went back to looking at the fire.
    Cassius decided to let the cat stay where it was. ‘Drink?’
    Indavara shook his head.
    ‘I insist.’
    Cassius found two clay mugs and made up a mix of two-thirds wine, one-third water. The wine was the local stuff – a tad bitter for his taste but good and strong. He handed a mug to Indavara then pulled the bench out from under the table so he could sit opposite him.
    ‘The contest – apologies. I forgot.’
    Cassius now recalled that Simo had left him a note reminding him to try and make the semi-finals. Now he’d missed the whole thing, including whatever had led to the trouble.
    ‘You don’t hit people without good reason. What happened?’
    Indavara sipped his drink and continued stroking the cat.
    From the fortress came the sound of bellowed orders, a noise they had become used to.
    ‘Come on. Tell me.’
    ‘I might be leaving soon.’
    ‘Leaving? Why?’
    ‘There’s nothing for me here.’
    ‘Of course there is.’
    Indavara looked at him. ‘You have things to occupy you – your job with the governor, chasing women. Simo has his work, his friends at the church-house. What do I have?’
    ‘You have a place with us. With me, with the Service.’
    ‘What do I care? Just another job.’
    Cassius hadn’t heard him talk like this before. He’d always assumed Indavara had little affection for Rome – no surprise in an ex-gladiator – but he thought their experiences together had created quite a bond. Cassius also knew Indavara had no one else; no family, no other friends.
    ‘What about that girl, Nasari?’
    ‘
Sanari
,’ replied Indavara sternly. ‘I might as well forget her. What must she think of me now?’
    ‘Gods, man – just tell me what happened. It’s not sensible to keep all your problems bottled up. Perhaps I can help.’
    Even as he spoke, Cassius admitted to himself that his concern was not solely for Indavara’s well-being. For someone in his line of work, a good bodyguard was essential; and Indavara had repeatedly shown himself to be nothing short of irreplaceable. But he was a troubled man, and Cassius now realised he had erred in neglecting him.
    Indavara took a long breath before speaking. ‘I was doing well, but this bastard Eclectis—’
    ‘I remember the name – the current champion.’
    ‘He worked out I’d been a fighter, started riling me – made me remember things. Things I’ve tried to forget.’
    ‘So he played dirty. You must have had him worried.’
    ‘Still worked, though. I couldn’t control myself. I lost.’
    ‘And then you hit him.’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Listen, memories such as you must have would stay with anyone. I’ve a share that haunt me too – as you well know – but your situation is unique. You remember nothing else before the arena. Perhaps that’s why those thoughts remain so strong.’
    Indavara downed the rest of his wine and slammed the mug onto the table. The cat sped silently out of the kitchen.
    Cassius drank. Given what he knew, he really had been stupid not to notice the poor sod struggling. But perhaps there was a way to make up ground. ‘I’ve been thinking about something. The first thing you remember is the arena, correct? At Pietas Julia?’
    Indavara nodded.
    Cassius had first considered this idea months ago but had never got round to mentioning it. ‘There’s bound to be a Service officer there. I can write to him, ask him to do some investigating on your behalf. You mentioned a man once, the organiser of games. He might know more about where you came from.’
    ‘As if he would help.’
    ‘You know how persuasive the Service can be. It may take time and it may not lead anywhere, but we could at least try.’
    ‘You would do that?’
    ‘Absolutely.’
    Indavara gave a