Free The Curse of Babylon by Richard Blake Page B

they got that far, the brisk would eventually stagger. So it had been going on since time out of mind despite the sun or rain or snow. So, if not quite to the end of time, it would continue.
    And I’d brought it to a pause. Simeon took a step forward. The rest of the aged formed into a decrepit mob behind him. ‘Is it him? Is it him ?’ one of them was crying insistently. ‘Is it the one the Devil has sent to destroy us?’ I could have taken to my heels. But I’d pulled my hat off. The least I could do was be polite.
    ‘Gentlemen,’ I said earnestly, ‘you have been repeatedly assured that the halving of salaries and pensions will be balanced by payment in the new and purer coinage. With the late fall in prices, I really don’t believe anyone will be worse off than before.’ That wasn’t true – unless renegotiated, most rents would effectively double – and it got me a low jeer, followed by a moaning, varied chorus of disapproval that was more genteel only in its expression than the roasting I’d had from the vermin who clustered round Nicetas. From more than one mouth, I caught the word ‘barbarian.’ I pretended not to hear this and waved my hat for silence. ‘Look, my dear friends, we’re at war ,’ I went on in my reasonable tone. ‘We all have to make sacrifices.’ I caught Simeon’s eye, and put a faint edge into my voice. ‘Besides, your two sons are among the lucky third,’ I said to him directly. ‘They still have their positions.’ I smiled and waited for the threat to sink in. And it was more than a threat. Now I’d been allowed to make a proper start, even Heraclius was asking how much of the administration he’d inherited from the past was needed. I’d been looking at the Food Control Office for two years – you could double manpower in the home fleet if you shut down that gigantic waste of space.
    I looked up briefly at the sun. ‘Now, gentlemen,’ I said with what I hoped was a winning smile, ‘I am on official business. I wouldn’t wish to keep you from your exercise.’
    ‘You won’t get away with this!’ an old man shouted after me as I set off again.
    ‘You try stopping me,’ I said under my breath.
    ‘You’re a cuckoo in the nest, Alaric,’ Simeon shouted as I hurried out of the Square. ‘I hope that assassin carves you up good and proper.’ He drew a long and wheezing breath. ‘God pays his debts without money – you mark my words.’
    I pretended not to have heard.

Chapter 9
     
    A word of advice, Dear Reader. If you ever feel inclined to follow someone about in the full light of day, do not dress yourself all over in black. Unless you’re in a place governed by odd sartorial rules, your victim will need to be blind or drunk not to notice you. My further advice is not to flit from tree to tree, or try taking shelter behind free-standing columns and street posts somewhat narrower than you are. Even if no one beats you up for looking dodgy, you’ll be laughed at.
    I’d been aware of the absurd figure behind me long before Simeon had tried to do me the goodness of a warning. He’d probably been following me down the Triumphal Way. I’d certainly heard him clattering down the steps to Imperial Square. He was now making a pitiful effort not to be seen as he tiptoed twenty yards behind me, turning to look at statues or inscriptions every time I found reasonable cause to look round. Sadly for him, we were fully into siesta time. The streets were empty of everyone but a few skiving clerks. It looked a very cheap assassination attempt. If this were another Nicetas effort, he’d exhausted his budget on silver cups and seditionaries. Or probably not: Nicetas was the sort of man who’d spend more on finding this incompetent than on getting the job done properly.
    I slowed down and took off my hat again. I wanted to make sure he’d keep my hair in sight. We were entering the medical district and it wouldn’t do for him to lose me in the drug market.
    Indeed