‘Why are you standing gossiping instead of carrying out my instructions?’
‘Twenty-five denarii,’ the praetor hissed.
‘Done.’ Apollonius winked at Cato. ‘I’ll lead her a merry chase through Ostia. By the time we reach the ship, she’ll be too tired to cause us much trouble.’
‘Good. I’ll see you later.’
Cato watched as the praetor led the way back to his office like a cowed dog, then he made his way downstairs to deal with Claudia Acte’s baggage.
Apollonius was as good as his word, and the emperor’s discarded mistress and her retinue boarded the ship late in the afternoon. As Cato watched her picking her way down the narrow gangway, he could not help wishing that she might tumble into the sea. Just before she reached the deck, she began to lean too far to one side, but her hand was caught by one of the German bodyguards and she was delivered deftly to the ship without further trouble.
Her arrival had drawn the attention of crew and passengers alike. Cato was standing towards the stern with the men who had volunteered to come with him.
‘So that’s the emperor’s squeeze.’ Centurion Porcino ran his gaze over her. ‘Nice. Just my type.’
‘That’s what you say now . . .’ Cato responded quietly.
He made his way forward to greet her with a quick bow of his head. ‘Welcome aboard, my lady. Your baggage has been placed in the hold.’
‘Good. I am tired.’ She looked round the ship with more disapproval than interest as the last of the Germans came across the gangway and stepped onto the deck with a heavy thud. ‘Where is my cabin?’
Cato winced. ‘There are no cabins on this ship. We all sleep on deck.’
Behind her he saw the captain give him a meaningful look; Cato nodded discreetly and the captain gave the order to slide the gangway back onto the quay and slip the mooring ropes. As the lengths of rope were coiled fore and aft, several of the crewmen unshipped the sweeps, the long oars used to manoeuvre the ship into clear water before her sail was raised.
Claudia folded her arms. ‘I will not sleep on deck.’
It was too late for her to attempt to return ashore, and now that she was confined on the ship for the duration of the voyage, Cato was no longer inclined to pretend obeisance.
‘Suit yourself, my lady.’
Her jaw sagged in shock as he turned to rejoin his officers.
‘Wait, you!’ she called after him. ‘I said wait!’
Cato stopped and gritted his teeth, aware that Porcino and the others were watching him with amused expressions, waiting to see how he reacted. He turned slowly back towards her, took her arm and steered her towards the bow of the vessel, away from the others. The ship’s boy was sitting at the stem, legs dangling over the side, and Cato jerked his thumb towards the stern. ‘Hop it, youngster.’
Claudia tried to pull herself free. ‘What do you think you are doing? You’ll pay for this outrage.’
Cato tightened his grip and gave her a savage shake. ‘Enough!’
Her eyes widened in shock, and there was fear there too, he noted. But she recovered quickly and raised her free hand, pointing it at his face, the tip of her fingernail inches from his nose. ‘Wait until Nero hears of this. He’ll have you scourged.’
‘I sincerely doubt it,’ Cato sniffed. ‘Let’s stop pretending you are some fine lady with all the snooty airs and graces of the aristocracy. You are the cast-off mistress of the emperor and now no more than the freedwoman you were before you were thrust into Nero’s eager little arms by Senator Seneca.’
‘How dare you?’ she spat back. ‘I am a woman of means with many powerful friends. You defy me at your peril, soldier. I have but to click my fingers and command my bodyguards to tear you apart and the deed is done.’
Cato gave a loud bark of laughter. ‘Your means are merely the baubles the emperor chose to shower on you. That has come to an end. Count yourself lucky that Nero has not taken back all he gave you. Those you call friends have abandoned you, like they do all those who have risen from the mob and whose moment in the sun has passed. Your association with them is only a source of embarrassment to them now. As for your bodyguards, they are not yours to command. They are not even guards; they are your gaolers, no doubt under orders to make sure you don’t slip away and return to Rome to beg Nero to take you back. Even so, how do you think you are going to command them? They were chosen for their position because they have no Latin, apart from the decurion in charge. Do you speak their tongue? No? I thought not. Fat chance of you ordering them to do your bidding. I imagine that’s the very opposite of the orders they were given before leaving Rome. As for me, I am no soldier. I hold the rank of prefect and my authority extends to every man of the garrison of Sardinia. While you are in my charge, you will do as I say and you will not cause me any trouble.’ He stared at her and saw her gaze fall away. ‘If you do, I will bind and gag you for the duration of the voyage and the journey to your estate.’
He paused and let his words sink in before he resumed. ‘I hope that is all perfectly clear to you, Claudia Acte. Well?’
He felt her tremble within his grip. She nodded meekly and he released her.
‘Good. Now keep a civil tongue in your head and I am sure we will get on agreeably. I find that the most comfortable place to sleep on deck is by the mast. I’ll have one of my men make something up for you.’
He left her there and returned to his companions at the far end of the ship as the sailors working the sweeps manoeuvred the vessel into the relatively open water shielded from the sea by the breakwater constructed during Emperor Claudius’s reign. As soon as he was certain of a clear passage out of the harbour, the captain gave orders to ship the oars, raise the sail and sheet it home. With the taut expanse of patched leather filling like a fat belly, the ship heeled gently. Those unfamiliar with the motion lurched nervously and grabbed the side of the vessel to steady themselves. Cato bit down on his nausea, widened his stance to maintain a good balance and looked forward to where Claudia clasped a shroud with her white hands, clinging on with an alarmed expression.
‘She looks positively stricken,’ Apollonius commented. ‘What did you say to her?’
‘I asked her to behave nicely so that we could all get on more easily.’
‘I’m not sure I believe such cordiality would produce useful results.’
‘What I said was enough, I hope.’
The ship steered towards the gap between the arms of the mole. As it encountered the swell of the sea, the bows rose gracefully, then eased down with a small burst of spray. Ahead, the late-afternoon sun burnished the waves with hundreds of glittering jewels of dazzling amber and white, and the woman standing at the bow seemed haloed by honeyed light. It was the kind of image that love-struck poets wrote of, thought Cato. Then her face contorted suddenly and she bent her head over the side, her body lurching in a painful retch. Those sailors nearest her hurriedly took a few paces further downwind. So much for poetry, Cato mused.
He turned his gaze towards the horizon, and soon his appreciation of the natural beauty of the open sea gave way to thoughts of the challenges facing him when they reached the island at the end of the short voyage. In truth, he was more anxious than he cared to admit. Without the reassuring presence of Macro at his side, he felt exposed and fearful that he might be found wanting. So far he had enjoyed much success in his army career. Certainly more than he had thought possible in the early days. But his run of luck could not last for ever.
The freshening breeze quickly swept away the cloying odour of Ostia, and the passengers and crew filled their lungs with the salty tang of sea air.
Apollonius lifted his chin and closed his eyes with a blissful expression on his face. ‘If the weather holds, we’ll have a fine voyage. Just what’s needed to blow the cobwebs away!’
‘Enjoy it, then,’ Cato said gruffly. ‘It may be our last chance for a while.’
Chapter Ten
Two days later, as dusk settled over t
he island, the ship approached Olbia under sail. A column of smoke rose from a signal tower on the headland, and was answered by more smoke from further inland. As they sailed cautiously through the narrow channel at the entrance to the harbour, the lookout sitting on the spar astride the mast called down to the deck. ‘Boat approaching!’
Some of those closest to the bows lined the rail to watch, while Cato stepped up onto the small steering platform at the stern and shaded his eyes as he squinted into the sunlight. He could make out the quay and its warehouses and the town beyond, and there, halfway between the shore and the ship, he caught sight of a small craft with a triangular sail tacking towards them.
‘Bit late for a pilot to guide us in,’ mused Apollonius. ‘And too late in the day for a fishing boat to be setting out . . . They’re definitely coming our way. What can that be about, I wonder?’
Cato gave a non-committal grunt and continued to observe the boat. When it was no more than a hundred paces away, it tacked across the ship’s bow and then gybed so that it was running off the starboard beam on a parallel course to the vessel. Close to, he could see that three men were on board. A sailor stood at the tiller and another worked the sheets; the third man, wearing a dull red military cloak, cupped his hands to his mouth and called across the light swell. ‘What vessel is that?’
The captain moved to the side and shouted his reply. ‘Persephone . From Ostia.’
‘From Ostia?’ the man repeated.
‘Aye!’
‘Have you landed anywhere on Sardinia since leaving Ostia?’
‘No. Who in Hades are you?’ the captain demanded.
‘Decurion Locullus. I’m coming aboard. Stand by.’
As the small craft edged towards the ponderous cargo ship, the sailors aboard Persephone hung a rope boarding ladder over the side. The decurion reached out for the closest rung and grasped it tightly as he jumped across the narrow gap, then climbed up and over the side, thudding onto the deck. He waved the boat off, and Cato and Apollonius went forward to join the captain as he greeted their visitor.
‘What’s the meaning of this?’ the captain demanded. ‘I don’t take kindly to people boarding my ship without me knowing why.’
Locullus glanced around those on deck, seemingly looking for someone, before his gaze returned to the captain. ‘Are any of your crew or passengers showing signs of sickness?’
‘Sickness?’ The captain frowned. ‘What kind of sickness?’
‘Fever, coughing, body aches or spasms.’
‘No. Nothing like that.’
‘Anything else, then? Any sickness of any kind at all?’
The captain gestured to Claudia Acte and the German bodyguards, one of whom was retching over the side, his huge frame convulsing as he moaned miserably. ‘Just some of those landsmen who can’t cope with the sea. That’s all.’
As Cato stepped up beside the captain, he saw the look of relief that flitted across the decurion’s face.
‘What’s going on here?’ he demanded.
‘Who are you?’
‘Prefect Quintus Licinius Cato. I’m here to take up command of the garrison units of Sardinia. Has the governor sent you to meet us?’
Locullus hurriedly saluted. ‘My apologies, sir, but I haven’t heard about any new appointment. My orders are to escort Claudia Acte to Tibula. Her ship was expected to call here before making for Carales. That has changed now.’
‘I take it that has something to do with the pestilence in the south of the island.’
‘Aye, sir, and it’s spreading quickly. Governor Scurra has abandoned his palace in Carales and shifted the seat of government to Tibula.’
Cato recalled the map of the island he had studied before leaving Rome. He had paid a scribe to make him a copy, which was carefully folded up in his baggage. ‘That’s at the northern tip of the island, isn’t it?’
‘About as far north as you can get, sir.’
He exchanged a glance with Apollonius before he lowered his voice and continued. ‘Is the situation as bad as that?’
‘It’s hard to say, sir,’ the decurion replied cautiously. ‘We had only just begun to see the first cases of the sickness before the governor decided to take ship to Tibula a month ago. Since then we’ve had reports that over a hundred have died in Carales alone. There have been more deaths in towns and villages as far north as Sarcapos. The governor has given orders for ships entering the island’s ports to be inspected for signs of sickness, and forbidden to land if there are any.’
‘Sounds serious,’ Apollonius commented. ‘Have you quarantined any ships at Olbia so far?’
‘None, sir. But it’s probably only a matter of time.’
The captain sighed irritably. ‘But I’ve got a cargo to unload at Carales, along with these gentlemen and other passengers.’
‘We won’t be making for Carales,’ Cato responded. ‘You can land the dispatches and cargo destined for Olbia and then take us to Tibula instead.’
‘Now just a moment. I ain’t contracted to sail to Tibula. Persephone ’s bound for Carales.’
‘Not any more. Not unless you want to risk the pestilence coming aboard your ship and striking down you and your crew.’
The captain considered this for a moment. ‘If we keep clear of those who are sick, I can unload the cargo and load what I need for the return leg.’
Cato shook his head. ‘I’m ordering you to take us to Tibula. If you want to risk sailing from there to Carales, that’s up to you.’
The seaman folded his brawny arms. ‘I’m the captain. My ship. My orders.’
‘And I’m the garrison commander. Moreover, I have more men on this vessel than you do. I suggest you do as I tell you,’ Cato concluded firmly.
The captain looked around the deck at his sailors, who had been watching the exchange, then at Cato’s Praetorians and the German bodyguards. He weighed up the situation and gave a reluctant nod. ‘As you request, Prefect. We’ll sail for Tibula at first light.’
They exchanged a nod before the captain paced towards the stern and joined the helmsman to oversee the approach to Olbia.
‘He’s not a happy man,’ Apollonius observed with an amused expression.
‘He’ll be unhappier still if he continues to Carales and exposes himself to the sickness. But that’s his lookout.’ Cato glanced to where Claudia was sitting on a coiled rope, resting her chin in her hands as she stared over the starboard beam at the low-lying landscape creeping by. He braced himself. ‘I guess I’d better inform my lady that we won’t be landing at Carales.’
‘You could always leave her onboard for the final leg,’ Apollonius suggested with relish.
‘Sure, and if anything happens to her, I’ll let you explain that to Nero,’ Cato replied.
Claudia looked round as he approached, the German guards moving aside to let him by. ‘Who is that man who came aboard?’
‘One of the governor’s officers.’ Cato sat on the side rail and took hold of one of the stays before he continued. ‘I’m afraid I have some bad news for you. We won’t be sailing for Carales.’
‘Oh?’ Her dark eyes narrowed. ‘Why not?’
‘It’s not safe. The south of the island has been hit by sickness. The governor has moved to Tibula, so that’s where we are headed now. I dare say the governor will be happy to accommodate you until it is safe for you to be taken to one of your estates.’
‘That’s one way of describing a prison.’
Cato took in her hunched shoulders and air of despondency. She had been almost silent since he had pierced her haughty veneer two days earlier. ‘There are worse places to be imprisoned.’
‘And you would know?’
‘Yes.’
‘Easy for you to say,’ she sniffed. ‘A high-and-mighty prefect, born with a silver spoon in your mouth and raised with every comfort that an aristocratic household can afford. I know your type well enough. What would you know of prisons and hardship?’
Cato regarded he
r for a moment and felt a stab of pity. ‘Claudia, my father was an imperial freedman. I was born a slave, as you were.’
She sat up and looked him over, as if seeing him for the first time. ‘You were a slave once? I don’t believe it.’
‘Why would I lie about such a thing? I am proud of all that I have achieved, but I have never forgotten where I came from. Any more than you have, despite your closeness to the emperor.’
She gave a bitter laugh. ‘Close enough for him to fuck, but no closer than that as it turned out. And now it is likely I will live out the rest of my life as an exile.’
‘I can’t help that. I am just saying that you shouldn’t feel sorry for yourself. There are countless people in Rome, free-born as well as slaves and former slaves, who would give almost anything to change places with you right now.’
Claudia folded her hands together and pursed her lips. ‘Perhaps you are right.’
‘I usually am.’ Cato smiled at her. ‘I have been told by some that it’s an annoying characteristic.’
‘I am sure it could be.’ She smiled back.
He eased himself off the side rail. ‘I need to let the commander of your escort know the change of plan . . . You’ll be fine.’
He turned to where the optio in command of the Germans was dozing, a wineskin in his lap.
‘Prefect?’
He glanced back and saw her nod to him.
‘Thank you for being honest with me about your past.’
Chapter Eleven
The ship landed at Tibula a day later. Leaving his men with orders to remain aboard Persephone to forestall any temptation for the captain to put to sea in his absence, Cato went ashore with Locullus and they made their way through the streets to a large colonnaded structure built above the harbour. It was surrounded by a wall high enough to keep people out but not to withstand any attack. Beyond rose the boughs of the poplars, cedars and pines in the gardens that ran down from the terraces at the back of the palace. If this was an occasional residence of the governor, Cato could only guess at the opulence of the accommodation in Carales.
The Emperor's Exile (Eagles of the Empire 19) Page 11