Traitors of Rome (Eagles of the Empire 18)

by Simon Scarrow

  Looking along the wharf, Cato saw that there were at least twenty other river craft alongside, and most of their crews seemed to be already ashore. Several small warehouses stood opposite the barge, and further along there was a wide gap beyond which were more sheds and stores. The sounds of pipe music, drums and cymbals and raucous singing drifted over the roofs of the town’s buildings. Democles turned to the younger crewman and ordered him to stand watch on the barge while the rest of them went ashore. The boy looked disappointed, but he had no choice other than to obey the order, and went to sit in the stern, radiating resentment.

  ‘Come on, boys!’ the captain said cheerily as he stepped onto the wharf. ‘Sounds like there’s a party going on in the marketplace. First drink is on me.’

  As they followed the captain and his other crewman, Cato muttered to Apollonius, ‘I wonder how much of our captain’s largesse is funded by the coin he was given to buy us horses?’

  The agent shot him a look. ‘Quite.’

  The small party made its way along the wharf towards what turned out to be the open side of a large square lined with shops and inns. The middle of the square was taken up by market stalls selling farm produce, clothing, pottery and cooking pots, trinkets and all the other wares that were traded up and down the length of the great river. Democles ignored the market and made straight for a particular inn on the far side of the square. A sign hung above an arched entrance to the yard within, and when Cato paused to look up, he saw a winged phallus chasing a scantily clad woman with outsize breasts and rouged cheeks above the legend in Greek: The Cup of Eros.

  ‘Nice artwork.’

  Democles laughed. ‘Oh, there’s plenty of works of art on display inside!’

  He led them through into the courtyard, a large space perhaps fifteen paces across and lit by the glow of torches in brackets on three walls. At the rear was a building fronted by a counter, with jars stacked on shelves behind. Several men were busy serving customers at the bar or taking drinks to their tables. To the right of the counter was an arched doorway, the surroundings of which had been painted to look like a vulva. A trio of women stood by the door half-heartedly striking poses as they vied for clients.

  ‘I’ll be having some of that,’ said the crewman.

  ‘Easy, Patrakis. We drink first.’ The captain led them to a table close to the counter and they sat on benches either side. From there Cato could see that there was a small stage in the opposite corner of the yard, where three musicians were sharing a jar of wine as they took a break between sets.

  ‘You won’t find a better place for wine this side of Dura Europus,’ Democles announced. ‘And I get a special rate with the women since the owner is a cousin. He used to be a mercenary fighting for the king before he was wounded in the leg and discharged. He’s a good man.’

  ‘Ah.’ Apollonius nodded knowingly. ‘Of all the peoples in this world, the Greeks are peculiarly blessed with the number of cousins they have.’

  The captain stared at him for a moment, then shook his head. ‘Right, drinks then.’

  He beckoned to one of the serving men and ordered a large jug of wine for the table, slapping what looked to be a freshly minted coin into the man’s hand. When the wine came, with a tray of wooden tankards, Democles poured them all a cup and then raised his for a toast.

  ‘To our fine passengers, who have become part of the crew!’

  The two boatmen drained their tankards and the captain refilled them at once. Cato had been careful to take a small mouthful and swill it around before he swallowed. It was a flavoursome wine, to which a hint of some spice had been added. Apollonius drank half his cup and smiled with approval. ‘That’s good. Very good.’

  ‘I told you.’ Democles beamed. ‘More for you boys?’

  Apollonius held out his cup, but Cato shook his head and set his own down as he leaned forward to speak with the captain.

  ‘I take it you have coin left to pay for our horses when we reach Dura Europus?’

  The captain waved a hand dismissively. ‘There’s plenty. Your friends paid generously for your passage . . .’

  ‘I take it they also told you not to ask any questions about us, and the purpose of our journey,’ Cato responded mildly. ‘So let’s just enjoy the drink and some conversation, then be on our way. We don’t want any tongues wagging.’

  Patrakis leered, then stuck his tongue out and licked his finger suggestively. ‘That’s the main reason we’re here, friend. You should see the tricks those girls can do.’

  A rotund man with a round, sweaty face came limping over to the table and slapped Democles on the back. ‘You rogue!’ he exclaimed. ‘I haven’t seen you for months. Nor that money you still owe me for your last visit.’

  The captain turned and forced a grin. ‘Why, Cousin Pericles! It’s good to see you too. It has been far too long. You’ve met my mate Patrakis?’

  The innkeeper frowned. ‘I remember you. My girl couldn’t sit comfortably for a week after your visit. And who are these others? I don’t recognise them.’

  Cato gave the captain a warning glance and the latter lied smoothly. ‘Two fur merchants I’m taking up to Dura Europus with their stock.’ He gestured to Cato. ‘Agisthenes and his friend Alexandros.’

  They exchanged a formal bow of heads before Pericles gestured to the empty space on the bench beside the captain. ‘May I? It’ll be good to catch up.’

  ‘Be my guest. I’d offer you some of our wine, but alas, we only have four tankards.’

  ‘No problem.’ The innkeeper snapped his fingers at one of the serving men, and a moment later the captain was reluctantly filling the cup fetched for his cousin. ‘Now then, what’s the news along the river?’

  Democles scratched his beard. ‘Not much to tell. There’s been less trouble from pirates lately. I heard that one of the pirate gangs took a good kicking a while back. If I ever meet the men responsible for that, I’ll buy them drinks all night long. Other than that, there are rumours that the war against Vardanes isn’t going well, and there’s word of a famine in Egypt, so the clever money is buying up surplus grain to sell to the Romans.’

  ‘That’s useful to know. Be good to get a jump on the local grain merchants. I’ll make a small killing.’ Pericles grinned.

  ‘If you do, just remember who told you first, eh, cousin?’ Democles tapped his finger on the table. ‘So what’s been happening around here of late?’

  The innkeeper drained his cup and helped himself to a refill, and a pained expression crossed the captain’s face. ‘There’s been quite a bit of excitement. Parties of palace guards racing up and down the river, and then two days ago a royal herald passed through the town. He announced that the king has posted a reward for the capture of some men who escaped from the palace dungeons in Ctesiphon. They’re rumoured to be making for the frontier. And get this, the reward is fifty thousand drachma!’

  Democles let out a long, low whistle and refused to meet Cato’s gaze. ‘Fifty thousand drachma . . . Fuck me.’

  ‘What?’ Pericles looked disgusted. ‘While there are dogs still in the street?’

  The captain froze for an instant, his eyes narrowing in a hostile stare, then jabbed the innkeeper in the side with his elbow. ‘The old ones are the best ones . . . Still, fifty thousand. That could set a man up for life. Any news of them being captured yet?’

  Pericles shook his heavy jowls. ‘No, but you can bet they’ll fall into some lucky bastard’s lap. Ah well, back to work.’ He stood up and pointed a finger at the captain. ‘It’s been good to see you, but mind you pay your bill in full this time before you leave.’ He patted the purse at his side. ‘I can always use some help for Eros.’

  Democles pulled aside his cloak to reveal a far more heavily laden purse. ‘And I am always happy to pay, cousin.’

  Cato saw the innkeeper’s eyes widen. He had listened to the exchange betwe
en the two Greeks with increasing anxiety, and it had taken great self-control to keep his expression neutral.

  Pericles gave a farewell nod to the captain’s companions, then turned to walk away stiffly across the yard, shouting to the musicians to get back to work. Cato watched Democles’s face closely and saw the calculating glint in his eyes as he looked down into his tankard, swilling what was left of the wine at the bottom. The drummer and the man with the cymbal began a fast beat, and the flautist joined in with a simple melody.

  Patrakis belched and stood up. ‘A good drop, that. Now it’s time to go and raise the mast.’

  He weaved his way through the tables towards the women at the entrance to the brothel, speaking with them briefly before picking a slight, dark-haired woman with short scarred legs and following her inside. Democles, who had been following his crewman’s transaction, clicked his tongue.

  ‘Takes all sorts I guess,’ he muttered.

  The captain ordered another jar of wine, but Cato and Apollonius drank sparingly, not daring to indulge too much after hearing what the innkeeper had said. For his part, Democles made no mention of the reward as he delivered reminiscences about life on the river, throwing in the odd joke in an effort to keep the mood light. Cato was not fooled, and was already wondering just how much longer they would be able to trust the captain and his crew. He had hoped that word of their escape might not have spread so swiftly. And now there was this cursed reward, set at a figure that would test the loyalty of even the most principled man. And his impression was that Democles fell far short of that standard.

  When Patrakis came back from the brothel, a bleary grin across his face, the captain finished his wine. ‘We’ve got some distance to make up, so we’ll cast off at first light. Best we get back to the barge and have a good night’s sleep.’

  Cato nodded. ‘I think that would be wise.’

  Pericles hobbled over at the best speed he could manage to make sure that the bill had been paid in full, and then sent them on their way with a hearty farewell and the hope that they would visit his establishment again soon. The market stalls were empty when they emerged into the square and made their way across to the wharf. Cato allowed the captain and Patrakis to pull slightly ahead as he fell into step with Apollonius.

  ‘You saw him,’ he muttered. ‘I don’t think we can trust him much longer.’

  ‘I agree. What do you think we should do?’

  Cato thought it through. ‘We need him to get us close to Dura Europus before we cut ourselves free. And we need the coin that he was paid for the horses and supplies. I doubt he’ll honour the deal he struck with Vardanes’s men.’

  ‘True.’ Apollonius nodded. ‘It’s the deal he’s thinking of with Vologases’ men that worries me. It’s flattering to have such a price on our heads, but it’s made the situation rather uncomfortable.’

  When they reached the barge, they took out some rolled furs to sleep on, and Democles declared that there was no need to set a watch, as they would be able to sleep safely alongside the wharf. Cato and Apollonius moved to the front of the barge while the crew occupied the rear deck. There was a brief conversation at the other end of the craft, but Cato could not catch any of the words that were exchanged. After a while, the five men settled down to sleep. Or pretended to. Cato was wide awake, and quietly took two of the belaying pins from their holders, pressing one into Apollonius’s hand as he whispered, ‘Keep your eyes and ears open. If they’re going to betray us, I reckon they’ll do it tonight.’

  ‘I’ll be ready.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  As the hours of darkness passed, a thin crescent moon rose in the night sky and its reflection wavered and sparkled across the river. An owl screeched occasionally as it hunted for prey further along the bank. By and by, the sounds of music and voices from the town faded into silence and there was the odd splash of a jumping fish. In other circumstances this would have been a tranquil night, Cato thought. But his senses were alert to any potential danger, and he knew that the agent lying on the other side of the deck was equally on edge and ready for action.

  Democles and his companions made their move some two hours after the town had grown silent. Cato saw their dark shapes rise up at the stern and begin to creep forward soundlessly. He tightened his grip on the belaying pin and his muscles tensed, ready to burst into action. As they drew closer, the crew spread out, the boy to the left, Democles in the middle and Patrakis to the right. Each man carried a knife as they came on in a crouch, careful not to make a sudden movement or noise to announce their treachery.

  Cato waited until they were no more than two paces away, then sprang up and leaped forward with the belaying pin raised and ready to strike. Apollonius was on his feet an instant later and rushed towards Patrakis, striking his knife hand so that the blade clattered onto the deck. The crewman let out a yell of pain before it was cut off as Apollonius punched him savagely in the throat. He stumbled back, clawing at his neck and making a gurgling noise.

  Cato kept the belaying pin raised as he growled, ‘Drop those knives! Do it.’

  ‘You fucking take ’em,’ Democles snarled, and gave his remaining companion a shove towards Cato. ‘Get him, boy!’

  The youth rushed forward, knife thrust out before him. Cato leaned to one side and caught the boy’s wrist with his left hand while he struck him on the side of the head with the pin. He dropped to the deck, senseless.

  In the space of a few heartbeats, the captain had lost his men and now faced his two passengers alone. Patrakis had slumped to his knees and was choking on his crushed windpipe. He fell on his side and began to thrash about, emitting a dry rasping noise. Democles stepped back a couple of paces and raised his left hand, palm first.

  ‘Steady now, boys, we didn’t mean to harm you. Just wanted the reward, that’s all. You can take my purse and find another boat to carry you. How’s that sound?’

  ‘It sounds like a plan,’ Apollonius responded evenly. He stood erect and held out his hand. ‘Give me the purse, then.’

  Democles hesitated, and the agent took a step towards him. ‘Now. Or else.’

  ‘All right, friend. No need to threaten me.’

  The attack was almost too quick for Cato to follow. Apollonius dropped his pin, grabbed the captain’s knife hand and thrust it up so the point caught him under the chin and punched into his brain. He forced it up even further and wrenched it from side to side for good measure before releasing his grip and giving Democles a firm thrust on his chest to send him flying onto his back, his skull cracking against the deck.

  Cato looked at the three bodies, and then placed his pin back in its holder.

  ‘We can’t stay here. We have to go.’

  ‘You think so?’ Apollonius responded wryly. ‘We won’t get far on foot, I’m thinking.’

  ‘Then we take the barge.’

  ‘You think you can handle this thing?’

  ‘Yes. But we have to leave now. You cast off the mooring ropes.’

  Apollonius nodded and padded forward to the bow to unfasten the rope on the foredeck cleat, then haul it in from around the mooring post on the wharf. As he hurried to the stern to release the aft mooring, Cato picked up one of the barge’s sweeps and pressed the blade against the wharf, bracing his feet on the deck as he eased the vessel away. A gap opened, and then the barge pivoted slowly on the stern until Apollonius managed to release the rope, which dropped into the water with a sudden splash. Both men froze and looked around urgently in case the noise had attracted any attention, but there was no movement on the nearest boats. Cato worked his way aft, thrusting at the shaft of the oar, and the barge moved slowly out into open water.

  ‘Get the other oar,’ he said quietly. ‘Put it between those two pegs. Like this.’

  He demonstrated, and Apollonius followed suit on the other side. Then Cato stood on the broad bench that crossed the
middle of the barge just behind the mast and took up the leather-covered handles of both sweeps. He considered having the agent row alongside him, but the thought of two landsmen clumsily attempting to coordinate their strokes and attracting unwanted attention decided him against the idea.

  ‘Get to the rear and take the tiller,’ he ordered. ‘Just keep us heading straight out into the river for now.’

  As Apollonius hurried to the back and took up his position, Cato tested the weight and balance of the sweeps and then moved his arms forward and down so the blades swept back over the surface of the river. Then, taking every care to avoid them entering the water too loudly, he drew them back in a steady movement. The barge moved away from the other craft along the wharf at an angle, and as Cato continued rowing, Apollonius eased the tiller over so that the barge turned away gently and headed directly towards the far bank.

  When they reached the middle of the river, Cato shipped the oars and wetted a finger to hold up to the faint breeze. There was just enough to get the barge under way, he judged. He undid the sail ties and then hauled on the halyard to raise the spar to which the sail was attached. The weathered linen flapped gently in the breeze before he trimmed the sail and cleated the mainsheets. With the breeze blowing steadily off the port quarter, the sail began to draw the barge upriver, and he took the tiller from Apollonius.

  The sky to the east was already tinged with a paler shade of velvet that presaged dawn, and he could make out details along the river, as well as seeing more clearly the three bodies on the deck. ‘We’d better get rid of them. Over the side.’

  ‘What if they wash up close to that town? Someone is bound to recognise them, and then they’ll be looking for us all along the river.’

  ‘If we drop them here in the middle, they’ll be carried some way beyond the town before they get washed up or found by another boat. But best to be sure. See if there’s some ballast in the hold. Anything to weigh down the bodies.’