by Peter Tonkin
*
Looking around in the flickering light, Artemidorus made a rapid calculation. If they waited far enough back to be sure they wouldn’t be visible in the unsteady brightness, then they could hardly make out what the guards were saying, which would make the whole adventure utterly pointless. They would have to take the risk, therefore, and move forward into the safety of the shadows immediately beneath the bridge itself. He sent Quintus first. The legionary, widely experienced in this sort of thing, vanished like a puff of smoke. User went next, Ferrata watching him fiercely with his one good eye. Artemidorus found himself wishing he had thought to bring his sling. But if the merchant made enough noise to require silencing with a slingshot, they were all as good as dead in any case. When User had vanished into the curtain of shadow hanging beneath the bridge, Artemidorus struck Ferrata on the shoulder and the second legionary moved as silently as the first. A few heartbeats later, Artemidorus joined them.
It was not as dark here as it first appeared. The boards comprising the bridge’s surface were not all butted hard against one-another. Blades of torchlight sliced between some of them, striping the four silent spies like tigers. And, disturbingly, the shadows of the guards came down as well, as their patrol took them back and forth. Accompanying the slow passage of those shadows, came regular, measured footfalls from above. And, mercifully, a conversation, low but clear.
The first thing that happened, however, was that a long steam of golden urine came arcing down to spatter at User’s feet. He started back with an exclamation of disgust – rapidly stifled by Quintus’ hand over his mouth and Ferrata’s dagger at his throat. They stood in silence as the steaming waterfall continued apparently endlessly.
‘By Cloacina,’ came a gruff voice from above. ‘Don’t you ever stop?’
‘You know the latrines are all but useless now the river’s drying up. We need to sacrifice to Crepitus as well as Cloacina in the hope that either the Goddess of Sewers or the God of Shit will help us out.’
‘No need. Word is that General Cassius is getting ready to move. We can’t stay here with the river drying and food running low. He’ll have to make the choice soon. Back north to join General Brutus or west to invade and pillage Egypt.’
‘It’ll be Egypt pretty soon.’ The cascade eased and then stopped. ‘I mean Syria’s all very well, but Egypt…’ The legionary’s tone became dreamy.
‘You ever been there?’
‘To Egypt? No. But I hear it’s like the country of King Midas in the stories – gold everywhere. And the women wear hardly anything. Was it you who told me about the carvings? Someone who was there with Divus Julius in 706 brought carvings back and you wouldn’t believe…’
‘That’s it is it? Girls and gold?’
‘Is there anything else?’
‘Not for the likes of us.’
‘Not for the likes of General Cassius either. Gold is power to a man like that: the more gold you have the more legions you can buy so the more power you get.’
‘Didn’t work to well for General Crassus at Carrhae, they say the Parthians finally killed him by pouring molten gold down his throat.’
‘That’s my point! General Cassius walked away from that. He’s so much better than Crassus was. Give him as much gold as Crassus had and he’ll steal the Republic from under the noses of Mark Antony and Caesar Octavianus. And he knows it. No it’s clear as day to me. He’s got to move – can’t wait any longer with the river as it is. And if he has to move anyway, he’ll go for Egypt, all that gold and all that power. I’d bet my life…’
‘Cave! Watch out! That bastard centurion’s coming! Back on patrol before he beats you half to death with that vinestock club of his…’
v
Hunefer hoisted them out as though they weighed nothing and they hurried back to Naramsin’s village in the pink light of dawn. Artemidorus ran beside Hunefer and briefed him as they went. ‘Cassius has to move whether he likes it or not. And chances are he’s going to move west into Egypt. I’d say he knows he might well be jumping from the cooking-pot into the fire, but it’s such a fine balance. On the one hand there’s famine and plague – especially if he goes to the Upper Kingdom south of Memphis. But on the other hand, he gets Alexandria, control of the eastern half of Mare Nostrum and more gold than even he could wish for.’
‘An interesting commentary, have you discussed these ideas with her divine majesty?’ asked Hunefer.
‘As a matter of fact, I have. All except for the possibility that Cassius is about to invade, ravage and plunder her country.’
Hunefer glanced at him with, of all things a chuckle. ‘No he’s not Septem.’
‘Oh! And what makes you say that?’
‘We are going to stop him.’
Artemidorus was still turning Hunefer’s calm words over in his head as he pulled himself, dripping, aboard Triton. He had established to his own satisfaction what Cassius’ next move was likely to be. He was not too worried about placing so much faith in the gossip between two legionaries. In his experience, the men knew what their officers and commanders planned pretty accurately. What had they sung at Divus Julius’ last Triumph?
Here comes old baldy, randy as hell.
Lock up your daughters and your wives as well!
Or had it been ‘and your sons as well?’
Either way, the nameless guards’ assessment of Cassius, his immediate position, long-term goals and relationship with Brutus rang true. True enough to inform his own plans at any rate. He was tempted to go below and start dictating to Notus and Kyros the message he wanted them to put into the scroll which had apparently been sent by Brutus. But he knew he simply dare not do so. He had to have sight of Brutus’ original first. There might be something vital to include to make the forgery more realistic. And the matter of a code needed to be addressed into the bargain.
As Triton eased out into deeper water and dawn became morning, Artemidorus went below, stripped, dried himself and dressed. Then he wandered the ship like an animal caged at the Menagerie in Alexandria. Lucius and Puella were deep in conversation. Quintus and Ferrata were changing – as were Hunefer and User, though the latter had stopped, still dripping, to give his orders to the helmsman. The rest of the contubernium were sunning themselves at ease on the deck, along with the oarsmen in their blue tunics. Even the sailhandlers were idle. The sail was furled, the anchor out. Everything ready and waiting.
Ready to burst with tension and impatience, Artemidorus crossed to the mast, looking up at the rigging. Then, without a word to anyone he swung himself up off the deck and began to climb. When he reached the point where the horizontal yards joined the vertical mast, with the sail furled along their length, he stepped up onto them and stood with his left arm wrapped round the top of the mast as though round Puella in his fiercest embrace. Once he was safely there, his body and grasp making due allowance for the movement of the ship – magnified a hundredfold up here. He shaded his eyes with his right hand and began to scan the western and northern horizons.
He saw at once that the seas all around were quiet. Empty and unusually so, given the gentle wind and the clement weather. He felt as though he should be able to see all the way to Rhodos, all the way to Cyprus, and the southern coasts of Cilicia, Asia Province and perhaps even Macedonia beyond. But he knew he was fooling himself.
Instead of continuing to scan the horizon, therefore, he began to look at things nearby beginning with Glaros. Halys and his crew seemed just as idle as the men aboard Triton. But, just as with Triton, there was a look-out standing on the yards keeping tight hold of the mast. Artemidorus waved to him, but there was no reaction. Halys’ lookout was scanning the horizons to the north and west. Artemidorus turned and looked at Ashkelon instead, dropping his right hand as he did so, no longer needing to shade his eyes. From this viewpoint it was easy to see half a dozen vessels of various sizes crowded in the modest harbour. They and their crews seemed equally idle. Indeed, the town behind them seemed to be asle
ep. Frozen, like a mosaic or a picture.
Enjoy the peace and quiet, he thought. It isn’t going to last long.
‘Hey!’ The inarticulate hail was so distant that he only heard it because a northerly fluke in the westerly wind carried it to him. ‘Hey!’
Bemused, frowning, Artemidorus turned, moving his head like a hunting wolf trying to locate the source of the sound. The watchkeeper on Glaros’ mast was waving to him. No. Not just waving – gesturing. He shaded his eyes, straining to look past Halys’ watchkeeper in the direction he was pointing.
And there, on the blue-green line of the horizon where the sky and the sea came together, was a tiny white speck.
The sail of a fast-approaching ship.
XV: Arke
i
‘That woman is amazing as well as beautiful!’ exclaimed Lucius, aglow with youthful enthusiasm. ‘How she knows all the facts that seem to lie at her fingertips, Jupiter alone knows. Or, Minerva – she is the goddess of wisdom after all. She has explained why we are waiting here outside the harbour and how we plan to go into General Cassius’ camp at the earliest opportunity! Whose slave is she? Can I buy her?’
Artemidorus, User, Hunefer, Quintus and Ferrata were locked in conference, discussing how the next part of the plan would play out, assuming that the distant sail belonged to the ship bringing Brutus’ courier. The young Tribune’s interruption stopped them. They all swung round to look at him.
‘She’s no-one’s slave,’ snapped User. ‘You can’t buy her! She’s a free woman and you’ll never be worthy of her!’
Lucius gaped at him, then drew himself up, transforming into the arrogant patrician he was at heart. Even though his family’s fortunes lay ruined in Rome.
Before he could utter a word, Artemidorus stepped forward. ‘User is right, Lucius. Puella is not a slave. You’ve travelled with us on and off for months now. Have you ever seen any of us treat her like a slave?’
‘No… But I just assumed…’
‘Well your assumption was mistaken. Puella is a free woman. And if you wish to have anything at all to do with her, you must ask.’
‘Or she’ll chop off your verpa before you can say spread your legs,’ added Ferrata helpfully.
Outraged and humiliated, the young man stormed off. As the others got back to business, Artemidorus observed. ‘Good. Fortuna smiles on us. We want him rattled. We need him jumping to conclusions.’
‘But preferably only the conclusions we want him to jump to,’ added User.
‘Right. So let’s go over everything one more time. We have to assume that the ship coming towards us is carrying Brutus’ messenger. It’s coming from the right direction. The timing is correct. Alternative vessels are few and far-between. So, as soon as it gets anywhere close to us, Halys goes into action…’
‘He’s the one weak point,’ said Quintus. ‘I don’t trust Halys. Never have. He’s Cilician. He really is a pirate.’
‘Keep saying that in front of Lucius,’ advised Ferrata. ‘That’s what we need him to think.’
‘I’ll say it in front of everybody,’ snapped Quintus, ‘because it’s bloody well true!’
*
‘Look!’ cried Lucius, bouncing back along the deck, his outrage overcome by excitement. ‘There’s a sail! A ship! How did she get so close without us noticing?’
‘Because you were trying your luck with Puella again, lad,’ said Quintus. ‘She’d taken up all of your attention.’
‘Do you think it’s Brutus’ messenger?’ asked the young man. ‘Coming with news for Cassius?’
‘Possibly,’ said Artemidorus. ‘She’s a fast ship.’
‘Almost as fast as Glaros I’d say,’ calculated User.
‘Can you see her name?’ asked Artemidorus.
‘It looks like Arke to me.’ Triton’s captain squinted. ‘That would be logical – the messenger of the Titans, even if Zeus did condemn her to Tartarus when the Titans lost their war against the Gods.’
‘They gave her wings to Achilleus,’ said Artemidorus. ‘They were the source of his speed.’
‘Arke. I should probably go aboard her,’ said Lucius. ‘But not at sea, obviously; when she’s docked. We can follow her in – even allowing for what Puella said about the shores and getting trapped by contrary winds like we were in Brundisium. I could go into Cassius’ camp with the messenger. Then you’ll all be rid of me.’
‘That’s a good idea,’ said Artemidorus. ‘It’s more or less what we were planning to do. But we’ll wait out here and hail her as she goes past, just to make sure Brutus’ courier actually is aboard. We don’t want to follow the wrong ship in and get trapped.’
‘I don’t see what difference it would make,’ said Lucius. ‘I could still wait for the courier in Ashkelon. There has to be a taberna or something.’
‘You could. If you had the money – which I don’t believe you have. But even if you could find accommodation, Halys and User here are traders. Merchants. They need to be out and about. User has lost a lot of money as well as his home and family in the destruction of Xanthus. He can’t afford to get stuck in port. And I haven’t paid him and Halys enough to let them sit at the dockside, running up port charges and food-bills. Not to mention the fact that Hunefer is due back in Alexandria as soon as possible. His cover story is all prepared. Our bargain was for him to help get you free, not spend the rest of his life on the run. And I have to get home to Rome. So it’s not really all about you.’
‘Oh. Right. I hadn’t thought of it like that!’
‘Well, that’s the way it is. Now…’ Artemidorus drew breath.
But, before he could continue, Lucius interrupted once more. ‘What’s he doing?’
‘Who?’ Artemidorus asked, turning to follow the young man’s gaze.
‘Halys,’ answered Lucius. ‘He’s turning Glaros! He’s heading straight for the other ship!’ Lucius pointed over Triton’s left rail.
‘Stercore! Shit!’ said Artemidorus. ‘User! What is Halys up to?’
‘I don’t know…’ User’s face was blank. He appeared to be as surprised as the rest of them.
The group of them watched in astonishment as Glaros’ oars were run out and she wheeled onto a collision course with the incoming vessel. After a moment, Artemidorus turned and ran into the fighting tower on the after deck, climbed up the internal ladder and ran out onto the platform at the top. Moments later, he was joined by the others, Lucius pushing to the front to stand beside him.
‘Has he gone mad?’ demanded Artemidorus. ‘User. He’s your friend. What’s going on?’
‘He must be pretty certain it’s the messenger,’ said User grimly.
‘So?’ demanded Artemidorus.
‘Ships like that don’t only carry couriers,’ shrugged the merchant, ‘as often as not they carry gold.’ He swung round to confront Artemidorus, his face folded into a thunderous frown. ‘Don’t you see? Cassius has been sitting in the desert for weeks, maybe longer. His legions are all in that massive camp. We saw them last night and that’s what I came with you to check. They were on a war-footing. They will have spent the last few weeks readying for battle. On the other hand, Brutus has been collecting taxes, sacking cities, selling slaves. Halys must be betting that Brutus is sending Cassius the one thing every Roman commander needs before he commits his troops to battle – their pay!’
‘If he’s sending enough gold to pay all those legions,’ Quintus breathed, ‘it would be a fortune!’
‘A fortune for each legion!’ added Ferrata. ‘He can’t have sent that much. Arke would hardly be able to float if she was carrying all that gold aboard.’
‘Well, chances are that she’s carrying as much as Brutus can spare. And she’s not going to float for much longer in any case by the look of things!’ snapped Artemidorus. ‘Glaros doesn’t have a ram but her cutwater will shear off any oars Arke deploys. And Halys has got grappling hooks and rope. All he has to do is get along side…’
‘Which he’ll
do in short order by the look of things!’ snapped User.
‘Unless we can stop him,’ grated Artemidorus. ‘User! Let’s go!’
ii
The incoming ship was moving under sail power. She had no oars deployed. Glaros surged towards her, the rhythm of her oars moving at battle speed. At this distance, they should have been able to hear the rowing song. The fact that there was silence instead told the sea-wise members of the contubernium that Glaros was ready for battle. She continued to pick up speed, heading straight for Arke. Arke was close enough for them to see the foredeck crowded with figures staring at Glaros – no doubt with utter disbelief. Then, it seemed, they realised what was going on, all at once. Even as Triton span, oars out, her own pausator pounding out battle speed, also rowing in silence. And with ramming speed available.
But Artemidorus soon realised that he would not need to do so. Arke’s captain did the logical thing. He ordered his gubernator to change course away from the oncoming Cilician in order to avoid a collision. But that proved to be a dangerous error. As Arke’s head swung northward the westerly wind spilled out of her sail. The great taut belly of the thing flattened; flapped like the wing of a broken bird. The way came off the ship at once. Her head dipped, rose, wavered. Glaros bore down on her like a sea-eagle on a fish out of water.
But Triton was by no means lagging behind. User’s fine crew and the oarsmen were really putting their backs into their work. So, Triton soon came onto a converging course with Glaros and the helpless Arke. Artemidorus shaded his eyes as the three ships came closer together. Arke’s oars came out, but went in again almost at once. Obviously, the captain realised that she could never outrun Glaros under oar power, certainly not from a standing start. And all that would happen if he tried to do so was that the Cilician pirate would break off the oars on the side she was approaching and cripple the vessel entirely. In any case, he had no alternative but to make a fight of it and a hundred or so sword-trained legionary oarsmen would make a useful force with which to fight the Cilician pirates bearing down on them.