by Brown, Nick
The flying boot smashed into the door, narrowly missing Simo, who had just returned to the way station. Cassius kicked off his other boot, then poured himself a mug of wine and slumped down on the bed.
‘One day on land. One day! Now back on a bloody boat.’
As Simo retrieved the boot, Indavara wandered out of his room to see what was going on.
Cassius pointed at him. ‘And as if that’s not bad enough, this genius decides to attack a priest at the temple of Poseidon just before we’re about to embark on an already dangerous sea journey!’
‘I thought Neptune was god of the sea,’ said Indavara.
‘By the gods, listen to him.’
‘They’re really the same,’ Simo explained quietly, putting the boots neatly together on the floor. ‘Poseidon is the Greek version, Neptune the Roman.’
‘Oh,’ said Indavara, before returning to his room.
Cassius shut his eyes and rubbed his temples.
‘One of your headaches, sir?’ asked Simo.
‘Of course.’
‘Would you like to hear how I got on with the harbour master’s clerk?’
Cassius drank and gestured for him to continue.
‘There isn’t much to report, I’m afraid.’ Simo produced a sheet of paper. ‘Though I did take some notes.’
‘Hurry up, man.’
‘The Cartenna is a private vessel, owned and captained by a Thracian named Aradates. He has worked with various shipping agents in Rhodes and elsewhere and has a good reputation. This opinion is supported by Magistrate Nariad’s men, and we spoke to the inspector who went aboard the Cartenna when it arrived. He saw nothing suspicious but confirmed that the ship was definitely headed to Crete and he believed Aradates planned to winter there. No one knew anything about any passengers but Aradates is known to take them if adequately paid.’
‘We might surmise, then, that if Dio was aboard, this Aradates has no idea he has helped an assassin make his escape.’
Cassius looked up at the roof and shivered.
‘Are you cold, sir?’
‘No. Just thinking about what Dio might have been carrying with him.’
Simo looked confused.
‘Proof of his work,’ Cassius explained.
The Gaul realised what he meant. ‘Oh, Lord. It is the work of the beast Satan, sir.’
‘Blame your mysterious evil-doer if you wish, Simo, but I’ll wager this killer was hired by a flesh and blood man with good reason to want Memor dead.’
‘Sir, I was also able to find a ship to take your correspondence – a coaster in the Little Harbour bound for Ephesus. The captain was away but one of the crew was certain they would leave when the weather next cleared. I don’t think we’ll do any better, sir. Optio Clemens can pass your letters on to the captain for us.’
‘Yes, organise that.’
‘Already done, sir.’
‘Ah. At least I can rely on you, Simo.’
The big Gaul looked down at the pile of saddlebags and clothes on the floor. ‘I suppose I should get us packed up, sir.’
Cassius sighed. ‘Yes. I suppose you should.’
As Simo began folding blankets, Cassius refilled his mug from the jug he had taken from the parlour.
‘Are you sure that’s wise, sir, what with your head? And you know how your stomach can be onboard ship.’
‘Don’t even talk about it. I’m trying to enjoy my last few moments on dry land.’
Cassius walked out into the corridor. ‘By the gods, Simo, that girl Annia. She is quite impossible. Just wouldn’t listen to reason.’
‘She does seem very forward, sir.’
‘I’ll say. Needs a firm hand, that one.’
‘Pretty though,’ said Indavara, as he gathered his bags by the door.
‘Nothing special,’ replied Cassius. ‘And one soon forgets the fair face when she opens her mouth. My sisters are all girls with minds of their own – my mother made sure of that. But they know their place – my father made sure of that.’
‘I think she’s pretty.’
‘Well there’ll be plenty of time onboard the ship, Indavara. You should make an approach; charm her with your sophistication and wit like you did those girls in Karanda. I could use a good laugh.’
Indavara reddened as he attended to an errant bootlace. ‘That wasn’t my fault.’
‘Well it wasn’t me who told crude jokes and spilt wine all over them.’
‘Roman!’
Cassius turned to see the diminutive, bow-legged figure of Squint shuffling down the corridor towards him.
‘Why don’t you just use “sir”? It’s shorter and far more polite.’
‘We have a problem,’ said the old sailor, peering up at him.
Cassius leant back against the door frame and took another swig of wine. ‘Surely it’s not possible for this day to get any worse.’
‘It’s our deck-chief,’ Squint explained. ‘He was thrown in prison this morning.’
Cassius had neither the time nor the energy for a trip to the cells, where – according to Squint – Korinth was to be held until the next session of the municipal court. He therefore had to write a note to Magistrate Nariad explaining the situation, and was rather glad he wouldn’t have to do so in person. It seemed almost laughable, having insisted the man be detained in the first place, but Squint was sure that Asdribar couldn’t possibly leave port without his deck-chief. Watching from the way station entrance as the old sailor hurried away clutching the note, Cassius wondered how many more sly tricks the gods were planning to play on him before the day was out.
A waving hand appeared and he was relieved to see Clemens marching along the sea wall. As soon as the burly optio reached the way station, Cassius swiftly related the events of the last few hours.
As instructed, Clemens had been trying to locate Carius Asina. ‘I eventually found an administrator at the forum who knows him well. Asina and his family left for their estate as soon as they returned. We can get a message to them but—’
‘No, no, there’s no time for that,’ Cassius interjected. ‘And probably no need. I doubt they could offer any more information about this Dio than Viator did. What about Sudrenus’s slave?’
‘He lives in a fishing village on the other side of the citadel – quite a way along the coast. I sent one of the men on horseback to question him but I doubt he’ll be back before you leave.’
‘Right. Anything else?’
‘No. I went round most of the inns but nobody remembers him. By the way, is your bodyguard here?’
‘Yes. Why?’
‘This incident at the temple of Poseidon. Lot of talk about it. Some very angry people. It’s probably just as well that you’re leaving.’
Just then a young legionary shot out of an alley and ran over to them. Cassius didn’t recognise him.
‘Sir. Another sighting – a fisherman whose boat was moored up next to the Cartenna. There was a passenger. The crew had him sit on the wharf for an hour while they cleaned the decks. The fisherman noticed the sack and the boots.’
‘He’s sure?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Good work,’ Cassius told the legionary. ‘I’ll make sure you get your due.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
‘I may as well round the men up then,’ said Clemens. ‘Get them back to barracks.’
Cassius nodded. ‘Yes. You – and they – did well for me. It’s appreciated.’
‘You wouldn’t believe me if I told you I was a keen supporter of the Service, sir, but no Roman deserves what happened to Memor. It’s his poor wife and those girls I feel for. I hope you find the son of a bitch. Best of luck.’
Once he’d shaken forearms with Cassius, Clemens and the legionary set off back along the sea wall. Cassius returned to the way station. Simo had gone to buy provisions for the journey, leaving Indavara to pile the last of their gear in the little room by the door.
‘Now listen,’ Cassius told him. ‘Assuming they let this K
orinth character out, we’re going to be stuck on a boat with him for the next few days. Can I rely on you to keep control of yourself?’
‘Who started it?’
‘All right, but evidently he’s a pretty fiery fellow. Just stay out of his way.’
Finished with the bags, Indavara leant back against the wall by the window.
‘You’re becoming a bit of a liability, my man,’ said Cassius.
‘What do you mean?’
‘You’re causing me more problems than you solve.’
Indavara shook his head but said nothing.
‘I mean kicking a priest,’ Cassius continued. ‘Whoever heard of such a thing?’
‘We got Viator, didn’t we?’
‘I almost had him anyway.’
‘And what would you have done if you’d caught him? Talk him into surrender?’
‘Very funny.’
Indavara crossed the room, stepped over one of the saddlebags and stood close to Cassius. ‘You know something, Corbulo?’
Cassius felt his throat dry. Indavara hardly ever addressed him by name.
‘One day I might not be around when you need someone scared or beaten up, or you pick a fight with the wrong people. And then you really will have a problem, won’t you?’
Indavara held Cassius’s gaze a moment longer then walked past him and out on to the street.
IX
In the murky gloom of early evening, with a light rain still falling, the passengers and crew of the Fortuna Redux stood in a line behind the deckhouse, waiting for Asdribar to begin the leaving ceremony.
The start of the tenth hour had just passed but, to Cassius’s surprise, the Carthaginian had managed to get the ship in some sort of order and assemble his crew. The full complement was twenty, but various individuals had already departed for different parts of the island so he was now down to twelve. Apart from Squint and Korinth, his other senior man was Opilio: a veteran of the Roman fleets about the same age as his captain. He seemed to be in charge of everything that went on below decks and had been supervising the loading of supplies. The other nine members of the crew were as rough and eclectic a bunch as Cassius had seen. He’d already heard conversations in four different languages, though it seemed Asdribar insisted on Greek for anything relating to the ship.
Cassius had hoped Annia might have a late change of heart, but she and Clara had already taken over the deckhouse by the time he, Indavara and Simo arrived. He’d briefly considered a last appeal to the girl but not only did he think it would fall on deaf ears, he simply hadn’t the energy for it. The long, taxing day had sapped his strength and all he wanted to do was go below and get settled in. Unlike many freighters, the Fortuna had four small cabins close to the stern, one of which Asdribar had put aside for them. They were yet to see their quarters; their gear was still piled up next to the hatch.
The captain was standing behind the two altars situated between the deckhouse and the stern. Both comprising cubes of stone mounted in wooden frames, one altar was inscribed with dedications in numerous languages while the other was stained pink with blood from sacrificed animals. Several cockerels had been brought aboard and one would be killed as a symbol of gratitude when they next reached port.
‘We shall begin,’ said the Carthaginian in Greek.
Cassius, Indavara and Simo stood to his right, with Annia and Clara (holding a parasol over her mistress) separating them from the crew. Asdribar had suggested to Cassius that they take a moment with Korinth and Indavara, but Cassius thought it best just to keep them apart, for the remainder of the day at least.
‘First, to the God of the Deep, Great Poseidon.’
Cassius was relieved to see no reaction from the crew. Even if Poseidon had been offended, the other gods were undoubtedly smiling on Indavara if none of the sailors had heard what he’d done to that priest.
Squint came forward with a jug and placed it on the altar.
‘This we give to you, Great Poseidon,’ said Asdribar, ‘so that we may in return see fair winds and calm seas.’ He spoke quietly – his voice barely audible above the low hiss of the rain striking the water – but invested his words with a compelling gravitas. ‘We humbly beg that you will be merciful, and see us safely on our way.’
He picked up the jug of wine, walked to the stern and poured it into the water. When he returned to the altar, Squint took the jug and handed the captain a little wooden bowl, which he placed on top of the inscribed stone.
‘Now, to the goddess Fortuna, whose name this vessel carries, and to whom we offer our riches, so that the vagaries of luck may favour us. Come and give, so that you shall receive the best and avoid the worst.’
One by one, the crew came forward and dropped a coin into the bowl. Annia did the same, prompting Cassius to wonder where she was keeping the rest of her money – several large bags, surely. He, Simo and Indavara each added a sesterce to the bowl.
With Korinth holding a cloth cover over the altar, Squint poured thick, scented oil over the coins. He then lit a match from a lantern and set the oil alight. As it sizzled and spat, Asdribar dropped the coins into the water.
‘Now I honour the gods of Carthage.’
The captain shut his eyes and spoke a few sentences in Punic.
Then came the turn of Opilio, who placed a small libation on the altar. ‘To Jupiter, great god, all offerings and prayers. I beg for favour and deliverance.’
Asdribar glanced at another of the crew. ‘And we acknowledge our friend Desenna. He worships the Hebrew god and will make his own prayers.’
Cassius was surprised to see the other crewmen turn to this man Desenna and nod respectfully. With the ceremony over, Asdribar suggested that Annia and Clara retire to the deckhouse while the crew made final preparations. The two young women picked their way past assorted ropes and sailbags, holding their stolas up above the wet deck. Korinth and another man looked on and shook their heads. Cassius watched Annia and Clara as they entered the deckhouse. He couldn’t be entirely sure because of the rain, but the maid seemed to be crying.
‘Ridiculous,’ he whispered to himself. ‘Utterly ridiculous.’
‘Whose is this crap?’ yelled Korinth, now standing by the hatch, staring down at the unstowed gear.
Cassius walked over to him. ‘Ours.’
‘Get it below.’
With a steely glance at Indavara, Korinth headed forward to join the men dragging the immense mainsail bag towards the mast.
‘Best do as the man says,’ Cassius told the others.
Even though he did his part, weighing himself down with saddlebags and a sack of food, it took return journeys from Simo and Indavara to get everything down the steps.
The upper hold of the ship was comparatively high; Cassius could almost stand up straight. Stacked up on the right side were hundreds of the twig bales he’d seen used for separating and protecting fragile cargo. To the left was a big pile of timber and a carpenter’s table.
Opilio – who was apparently known as the hold-chief – came down the steps at speed. He was a squat, solidly built character clad in a grubby tunic. Not the most attractive of men, he was also the unfortunate owner of a flat nose, unruly teeth and thinning, straggly hair.
‘This way, sir,’ he said, picking up two skins of water and hurrying along the passageway behind the steps towards the stern. The three of them grabbed what they could and followed him. Directly ahead was what looked like the galley, with two cabins on each side of the passageway. Opilio stopped at the second room on the right. ‘We had some salt pork hanging in here so you’ll have to forgive the smell.’
The cabin was tiny; by Cassius’s estimation about eight feet by seven. There was one bed, with a straw mattress no more than two inches thick. The head of the bed was against the far wall, under a porthole from which water was dripping.
Opilio put down the skins and squeezed past Cassius. ‘I’ll be in the galley if you need anything, sir.’
As he left, Cassius turn
ed to Simo. ‘At least there’s one cheerful member of the crew.’
Opilio stuck his head back in the doorway. ‘Only because I just heard what we’re getting paid, sir. I’m usually a right miserable bastard.’
Korinth arrived outside with a woven basket of clothes in his hand. He dropped it in the room opposite, then strode back along the passageway.
Indavara picked up his bags. ‘I’ll find a space somewhere else. There’s no room for all of us in here anyway.’
‘As you wish,’ replied Cassius.
‘Did you have a falling-out, sir?’ asked Simo when Indavara had gone.
‘Of sorts. You know what he’s like.’
‘At least he’s rather more sociable now, sir. You must remember how he was when we first met? It’s only been a matter of months.’
Cassius went and stood by the porthole for a little fresh air as the Gaul brought in the last of the bags. ‘It’s just that he never seems to think. Just does the first thing that comes into his head.’
‘Some might regard that as an admirable trait for a man in his profession, sir.’
‘I suppose. What about his numbers and letters?’
‘We’ve not had a lot of time, sir, but I’d say he’s no worse or better than anyone else starting an education.’
‘And he’s still not spoken to you of his family, his past?’
‘Not a word, sir. I have tried on occasion but he always changes the subject or goes quiet.’
‘I must admit I’m curious,’ replied Cassius. ‘Think about it – all we know is that he was a gladiator in Pietas Julia, ended up travelling east, then fell into the employ of Abascantius. Try again, Simo.’
‘I don’t think I’ll get anywhere, sir.’
‘Well I certainly won’t. Just try.’
A small group had gathered on the dock to see off the freighter, including half a dozen women, a couple of whom had children with them. They didn’t look particularly happy that their menfolk were departing; neither did the sailors.
The start of the eleventh hour was well past, and though the rain had stopped, a blanket of low, grey cloud lay over Rhodes and the sea beyond. The wind had increased too, chopping the water into steep, angular waves.