Incus had quite a bit to mull over as he sipped on the Vicarius's wine. Yes, it was a fine Falernian, probably aged some ten years or so. As Tyleerius was sizing up Incus, the frumentarius conducted his own evaluation of the figure standing before him. Lean, as was Incus. Clearly Tyleerius had not succumbed to the excesses and debaucheries available to a man of his civic stature. Although far above Incus in social station, the man had not hesitated, after he reprimanded Incus, to stand when he offered the wine. "That shows some degree of honesty and humility to back up his words," Incus thought, qualities unfortunately rare in most of the officials he had met. Perhaps unsurprising, since Incus recalled hearing long-ago rumors -- albeit from the usual, dubious Roman gossip mill -- that Tyleerius had made some pro-Republican statements in his youth. If Tyleerius still harbored those ideals, he would be a man that Incus would work well for.

"My lord, I am here to serve in whatever capacity you, and by extension, Rome, requires. And trade is her lifeblood. If this banditry has reached the level where..." Incus momentarily thought of commenting "it has caused you concern enough to summon reinforcements from Rome," but instantly dismissed it as a result of his lasting irritation at being summoned, not on his own timetable, by one of Tyleerius' slaves, and continued, "it has reached your ear, it very well could be far more serious than officially reported. As your assistant for intelligence, you will know what I know, and this banditry will not go unchecked."

Tyleerius, still fixing Incus in his gaze, sipped his wine, nodded his head, and gestured to a scroll containing what apparently was the most recent report of the situation in Arabia. A gust blew into the room from the window, causing Incus to look out briefly. The Vicarius had a splendid view of the Orontes, packed with barges, small craft, and even a few shallow-draft sea-going vessels, as well as palms, cypress trees, and putty-hued rooftops. In this short span of time, Incus observed a camel, far below and obviously unwilling to be part of a caravan, kick out at its handler, prompting a tirade of animal braying and a torrent of cursing in what he assumed to be Syriac.

Incus perused the report, set his wine down, and smiled at Tyleerius.

"Well, it appears I have my work cut out for me. I will arrange for lodging through my man of business, nothing ostentatious to draw attention. And it is fortuitous that I actually do have some financial ineterests in Antioch, so I have plenty of excuses both to be here in the city and to be here in the palace. Wrangling with the authorities, as you might suspect."

Although Incus deadpanned this last comment deadpan, Tyleerius caught his intention and chuckled. He raised his glass of wine and the smile vanished from his face.

"You have your orders and you know my expectations, frumentarii. Now, to the Emperor, may the gods preserve him, and to the glory of Rome."

At that, both men emptied their glasses. Incus set the glass on the lacquered tray next to Tyleerius' desk, bowed, and made his exit.

As Incus walked down one of the porticos, musing over the import of the Vicarius's words, both to him personally and to the extremely valuable eastern caravan routes, he caught sight of the lovely slave who had washed his feet. He quelled a surprising rush of desire. Not now and not here, definitely not here. First things first. Set up a base of operations, make contact with his few reliable sources of information in Antioch, who might lead him to further sources, and then -- time permitting -- he would enjoy himself. But not until he had something to give to Tyleerius. The Vicarius did not appear to be a cruel man, far from it. But adroitly running such a commercially and militarily important province of the Empire necessarily meant that he had to be an efficient logistician who literally could not afford slackness in his subordinates. And Incus would give the man what he wanted.