CHAPTER NINE
Stepping between the two rigid guards, the companions filed into the tent and blinked at the opulence inside. Phoenix suppressed a shiver and a sense of deja vu, remembering a similar situation back in England when they’d confronted Agricola, the Roman Governor.
He’d thought Agricola’s pavilion luxurious but it was nothing compared to this one. The place was hung with floaty, transparent drapes of silk in vibrant reds, golds, purples and blues; gold-braided ribbons tied them back. More gold braid dangled from dozens of large, bright cushions that lay, scattered around the room. Four huge, decorative rugs in clashing colours and overlapped on the floor. Incense wafted up in smoky spirals from a brass bowl in the centre of the room, its scent sickening. The day was warm,
