THE SILK TREE

CHAPTER NINE

The seediness of their living quarters drove in on Nicander.

Marius looked up from the table. He was fashioning something in leather, his hard, capable hands sure and swift.

‘A bloody long time!’ he growled and got up to check a pot. ‘I’ve had a mess of lentils going since sundown.’

Nicander did not enjoy such crude Roman peasant fare but knew his friend had a fondness for it. He took his bowl and ate with as much relish as he could muster.

‘So how did you get along, then? Read a hill o’ books and things, I suppose.’ Marius was literate in Latin but only painfully so.

Nicander sighed. ‘Quite a few.’

‘Well?’

‘I found the subject very complicated,’ he mumbled. ‘A lot of things to take in.’

‘So hard going, then.’

‘It was, yes.’

‘I thought of a way to find out about Seres.’

Nicander bristled. ‘What?’

‘Calm down, I couldn’t spoil your fun with the books, could I?’

‘Then please tell,’ he said sarcastically, ‘just what is it that’s better than research in the greatest library on earth?’

‘Fellow down the street I know. Back with his family after a long trip. I met up with him today.’

‘This better be good!’

‘Interesting job he’s got – camel wrangler with the silk caravans as trade across Asia with the Seres. Just asked him how far, like, what direction you go in.’

Nicander sat back. So simple – so obvious!

‘Well – what did he say?’

‘Not a lot, he couldn’t. Like ’em all he only picks up on the caravan this side of the border, that’s Nibilis for him. See, the Persians don’t allow crews to go through their territory, they might learn something, so they has their own.’

‘Oh.’

‘That’s not all. He says that they’ve foreigners – Sogdians or something – taking charge of their caravans up to there, come from way into Asia and he often talks with ’em while they hand over. What they told him is that no one at all goes the whole way.’

‘They must – how do we get the silk, then?’

Marius chuckled grimly. ‘Hey now, and you’re a merchant and haven’t picked up on it!’

‘What, damn it?’

‘Why, just that it’s all organised between ’emselves. Freight gets loaded, taken on to another town, sold in the market where there’s a profit. Then the new owner sends it to wherever he’s heard there’s a good price, and so on. Who knows how many changes. That’s why it’s so bloody expensive to us, everyone adding their profit on top, and why nobody knows where the stuff ends up or comes from. So, Nico, there’s no one sending silk from Sinae to Constantinople – no one at all!’

‘And nobody who can say where the caravan’s been or going.’

‘No. Crews change at different places – he said his friend goes on another stage with the caravan across the plains in camels and when they come to the mountains hands over to others with oxen and donkeys. He thinks there’s a mighty desert beyond but he’s not sure.’

Nicander put down the unfinished lentils.

Marius gave an awkward smile and picked up what he’d been working on. ‘For you,’ he said, almost apologetically, ‘Try ’em on. Need to impress His Nibs, won’t we.’

It was a pair of sandals of the carlatina pattern, a single piece of leather used to create a soft-soled sandal with a pleasing openwork cross lacing. ‘Why, these are wonderful, Marius. And – and just the thing to go before an emperor,’ he finished lamely.

‘Right. Well, can’t sit about, what next?’

Nicander knew he couldn’t put off telling him the truth.

When he had finished, the big man said nothing, his face set.

‘So it’s come down to stupid fairy tales and maps which don’t agree and now with what you learnt from your friend…’

They sat wordless for a long time.

‘A hit o’ wine?’

‘No, Marius. I’m not in the mood.’

‘And as for our greasy friend John the Cappadocian,’ Marius rasped, ‘I think the bastard knows more than he’s telling us.’

Nicander grunted agreement. He wasn’t looking forward to facing him but could there be something they’d missed?