by Brown, Nick
The Fortuna’s deck was now clear, except for the mainsail and the yard, which would be raised once the ship was out of the harbour. Two towing tugs – twenty-foot dories each manned by eight strapping oarsmen – were sculling around in front of the ship. Akritos the harbour master was in one of them and had just overseen the tying of thick ropes to iron rings mounted on the freighter’s bow.
Keen to escape the malodorous cabin, Cassius was standing close to the mast on the shore side, his thickest woollen cloak over his shoulders. He could have blamed any number of things for the bitter churning in his stomach but suspected the prospect of a long, perilous sea journey was the main culprit.
Two hundred miles. Two hundred. In November. And ships were so slow, and so dependent on the elements. The only advantage was that when you slept – if you slept – you might awake to find another thirty or forty miles had been covered. Cassius just hoped the seasickness wouldn’t be too bad. Later he would find his figurine of Neptune and offer a proper prayer of his own.
‘Watch yourself there, sir.’
Cassius stood aside as one of the crew came past him and up to the side-rail. The sailor caught a rope thrown by Korinth, who was untying the lines holding the ship against the wharf. Squint, meanwhile, was now standing on a small platform between the deckhouse and the main hatch. He already had a hand on each of the tiller bars, which were connected by a complicated system of sockets and timbers to the two steering rudders on either side of the ship’s stern. Asdribar was standing just ahead of the veteran, arms crossed. The harbour master waved to him.
‘Ready at the stern?’ the captain cried.
‘Ready here!’ answered one of the sailors.
‘Ready at the bow?’
‘Ready here!’
‘Cast her off!’
Korinth and three of the crew pushed the ship away from the wharf, then jumped aboard.
Asdribar called out to Akritos: ‘Heave on!’
‘Heave on!’
Cassius ran a finger across his chin. The stubble on his face could stay now; it would keep his face warm and a ship was no place for a shave with an iron razor, even if carried out by Simo’s steady hand. He watched as the towing lines pulled tight and the Fortuna began to move. Though dwarfed by the freighter, the dories were soon pulling her along at quite a clip towards the harbour entrance.
‘Officer Corbulo.’
Cassius turned to see Annia beside him. She had her own thick cloak wrapped around her and had done something with her stola to keep the embroidered hem above the deck.
‘Miss.’
Neither of them said anything else for a while. Then some of the sailors started throwing colourful insults at the oarsmen, who fired back equally imaginative retorts. It was rather awkward, standing there with the young lady as curses fouled the air.
‘They have a competition in the summer,’ Annia said eventually.
‘Sorry?’
‘The dories – they race across the harbour. People make bets.’
‘Ah. How are your quarters, miss?’
‘They’ll do. It’s good of the captain to give up his deckhouse for us.’
Cassius doubted there was much Asdribar wouldn’t give up for a hundred denarii a day. Besides, the presence of the two young women was likely to be enough of a distraction for the crew. Better that they stay out of the way.
‘Do you think we’ll find this … Dio?’
She said the name with her eyes closed, as if she could barely stand to utter it.
‘The soldiers found another witness who confirmed he was on the Cartenna. If we can catch up, or at least arrive not too long after in Cnossus, I believe there’s a good chance, yes.’
‘I suppose it might not end there. With him, I mean.’
‘Possibly not.’
‘It was an assassination. Someone hired him, paid him, that’s why he—’
‘Yes, miss. It may be complicated. And difficult.’ Cassius turned to face her. ‘It’s not too late. One of those rowing boats can take you and your maid back. I can send you word as soon as I know more.’
Cassius half expected another fiery response, but Annia looked down at the deck and replied quietly, ‘I will not sit and wait. It would drive me mad. I must know.’
Cassius could understand that at least.
‘I believe the great gods are with us,’ Annia added.
‘I hope so, miss.’
He looked at her. The cold had drawn all the colour from her already pale face, whitening even her lips, but this allowed her emerald eyes to shine all the brighter. There was a certain beauty to her, he had to admit.
‘Don’t get cold on my account, miss.’
Annia gave an awkward little half-smile. She looked out past the breakwater, at the rocky coast of the island. ‘This time two days ago he was alive.’
Cassius could think of no fitting maxim, no appropriate words of sympathy. Recalling the picture in Memor’s study, he glanced back at the city and imagined that huge wave striking. He shivered.
Just then, the crew began to cheer and shout. They were all looking up at the three gulls that had just landed in the rigging.
‘A good omen,’ said Annia.
‘Is it?’ Cassius replied. ‘There are so many – I lose track.’
‘The great gods are with us. I feel it.’ She turned away and walked back along the deck, passing Indavara as he came up through the hatch.
‘Get settled in?’
With a barely perceptible nod, Indavara stopped beside him and looked morosely out at the dark blue sea.
‘Sorry there wasn’t room in the cabin,’ Cassius said as the Fortuna neared the harbour entrance. ‘You all right?’ he added, keen to build bridges after Indavara’s outburst at the way station.
‘It really was stupid, what I did, wasn’t it?’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Cassius.
‘Kicking that priest. What if I have offended this god? He controls the sea and the wind. He could make a storm. He could sink the ship.’
‘Calm yourself,’ Cassius replied. ‘You saw the ceremony. There’s more gods watching over this ship than any I’ve been on and it’s named after your Fortuna.’
Indavara was still gazing at the sea. ‘I’ve heard there are creatures under the water bigger than any on land. Bigger than an elephant even.’
‘Corbulo!’
Asdribar was gesturing to the left. All the crew had turned that way.
‘Turn to port!’ exclaimed the Carthaginian. ‘Don’t look at the wreck.’
This superstition Cassius had heard of; looking at a sunken ship was supposed to bring ill fortune. He had noted the weed-covered mast sticking out of the water just outside the harbour the previous day.
Korinth dropped the rope he was coiling and stalked towards them, scratching at his scarred face. ‘Turn! Both of you! Or do you want to curse us all?’
‘Which way’s port again?’ asked Indavara.
‘Left,’ said Cassius.
They turned away from the wreck. Slowly.
Korinth shot them a final glare, then returned to the stern.
Cassius and Indavara exchanged a smile.
‘I really don’t know why these sailors can’t just use left and right,’ said Cassius. ‘Makes them feel special, I suppose.’
‘What’s right?’
‘Starboard.’
‘That’s it.’
‘By the way,’ said Cassius, ‘I’ve decided you’re quite correct. It’s ridiculous for me to depend on you all the time. I have a sword and I need to be able to use it properly. A ship is hardly an ideal training ground but perhaps we can at least go over a few basics. It’s been a long time.’
‘We can start tomorrow.’
As the towing dories passed through the harbour entrance and beyond the breakwaters, the sea became rougher. Akritos’s cries were lost on the wind and trivial japes were long forgotten as the oarsmen dug deep with their oars to pull the freighter clear. The
towing rope tightened and slackened as the three vessels were thrown around and Korinth came forward to monitor the iron rings now jolting in their mounts.
Only when they were a good fifty yards out did Akritos yell, ‘Ready to cast off?’, cupping his hands around his mouth to make himself heard.
‘Ready!’ answered Asdribar.
The men reversed their oars and propelled their boats back towards the freighter. Once they were close enough, the sailors untied the ropes and threw them back to the dories. Akritos directed the two boats upwind of the Fortuna, then had the men ship their oars, allowing them a welcome rest before heading back into the harbour. They still found enough breath to shout, and the wind carried their words to all on deck.
‘May Poseidon smile!’
‘Fair wind! Fair way!’
‘Fortuna’s best!’
Those of Asdribar’s crew who weren’t at work solemnly raised their hands to their fellow seamen.
‘Raise the foresail!’ ordered the captain.
Korinth and another man took hold of a thick rope and hauled the sail up hand over hand. It was tiny compared to the mainsail but all the pair’s strength was required to get it to the top of the foremast.
‘Bear away!’ ordered Asdribar.
The freighter had been wallowing in the disturbed water beyond the harbour, but as the foresail filled, she began to pick up speed, bow aiming at the northern cape of Rhodes.
Cassius put a hand to his stomach. He was beginning to feel the first pangs of nausea.
‘Grey,’ observed Indavara. ‘Grey everywhere.’
‘Well you know why it’s cloudy, of course.’
‘The season?’
‘No, no. Apparently someone’ – he looked at Indavara – ‘decided it would be a good idea to slide around on a statue of the sun god this afternoon. The god is offended, and hides his rays from us.’
Indavara’s face froze.
‘I’m joking,’ Cassius said.
The bodyguard gulped and gazed up at the sky.
‘Seriously,’ Cassius added. ‘I am joking.’
Simo came out of the hatch with a mug in each hand. He did extremely well to reach the mast having spilt only a little of the steaming wine.
‘Thank you,’ said Indavara.
‘From Opilio,’ said Simo. ‘Not sure if it will be good or bad for your stomach, sir.’
‘Might help me sleep at least.’
‘The ship’s name,’ said Indavara after he’d taken his first sip. ‘Fortuna I know. But Fortuna Redux. What does it mean?’
‘Good luck that brings you home,’ explained Simo.
Cassius raised his mug. ‘Here’s hoping, eh?’
X
Indavara lay in the darkness, head propped against one of his bags, watching the crewmen come up and down through the hatch. It was always hard to work out how much time had passed on a ship; might have been two hours since they left the harbour, might have been four.
And so much noise. The hull striking the waves. Flapping sails. Squeaking blocks. Groaning ropes and stays. It did seem a little quieter now though. From what he could gather, the mainsail was up, and he knew ships went better through the water once that was done.
Try as he might, Indavara couldn’t stop thinking about the water. That lethal, formless void. Sometimes, when he found himself in the middle of an expanse of sea, he felt as if he might faint, and he wished some great hand would reach down from the clouds, pick him up and place him back on dry land. Night was even worse. Those scattered wave crests glittering in the moonlight. The sound of the water sliding by. Inescapable thoughts of what was around him, under him.
Indavara pulled the blanket up to his chin. He’d found a nice little space for himself next to the stack of twig bales. It would be noisy and busy by the hatch, but he preferred to be close to it in case anything happened. His bags were neatly arranged behind him and to his left, leaving just enough space for his blanket and hardly enough room to turn over. That was how he liked it; the bed in his cell under the arena at Pietas Julia had been narrow and he found he still barely moved during the night.
The last person he’d seen on the steps was Korinth. Like the others who’d come past, the sailor hadn’t even noticed he was lying there. Indavara wasn’t too worried about him. He’d handled him once, he could handle him again. Even so, he would sleep with his right hand resting on his dagger hilt – but then he usually did that anyway.
With all that had happened since they’d arrived on Rhodes, he was surprised to find it was the young lady Annia who kept forcing her way into his thoughts. That happened with women. You saw one, perhaps only for a few moments, and then you just kept thinking about her. Like Galla, that girl back in Antioch. He’d only seen her twice – and she took money so it was hard to know if she’d really liked him – but he thought about her a lot too.
But this Annia. She really was pretty. You could tell because she’d been through a terrible shock and she wasn’t trying to look good, but she still did. She was probably almost as tall as him but he didn’t mind that. She was so graceful, so feminine.
Indavara didn’t think he could go and talk to her. That would be difficult. She had lost her father. He didn’t know what to say to women at the best of times and this certainly wasn’t that. Perhaps if they saw each other on deck she might talk to him.
He had managed a good wash before they left the way station and now reminded himself to keep putting on that scent Simo had given him. He’d hated the smell at first but now he quite liked it. Simo was always on at him about that sort of thing. Must get clean when you have the chance, must use soap, must wash your clothes.
But he was a good man, Simo, and a patient teacher. Indavara didn’t understand why he himself could do some things without even thinking about it, yet found words and numbers so difficult. He had to do his sums hundreds of times just to remember them and even then it wasn’t that satisfying. Not like writing. Writing was incredible. He could make his name look the same almost every time now. To think people wrote whole books!
Corbulo said he was planning to write several. Indavara was sure he could do it. He was annoying at times – most of the time actually – but he was clever. There was no doubt about that.
And he did seem to know a bit about women. He’d been a bastard that night in Karanda though, telling Indavara he had the manners of a – what was it? – Thracian muck-chucker; that he’d never get any girls if he couldn’t learn how to behave. The woman had laughed along with him until Indavara had walked away.
That was when he hated Corbulo the most. When he made him feel a fool. Because it was as if he’d forgotten what Indavara had done for him – not once, but twice.
Saved him. Saved his life. Corbulo had done the same for him of course, that day at the river, but Indavara had thought a thing like that might bring two men together; make them friends. But it hardly ever felt like that. Perhaps when Corbulo had bought him the silver-plated figurine of the goddess Fortuna. Perhaps then. Indavara still had the gift, though he made a point of keeping it hidden when Corbulo was around. He preferred the old, small marble figurine he was holding in his hand.
His fingers had worn the stone smooth and he knew every edge, every contour. He imagined that the woman who’d thrown it to him at the end of his tenth fight had looked like Annia.
Indavara gripped the figurine tight and tried to focus on his prayer. Prayers weren’t easy. He’d memorised a few bits he’d heard other people say but he couldn’t ask Simo about it because he didn’t want to seem stupid. He could at least usually find a way to say what he wanted to now.
‘Fair Fortuna,’ he whispered, ‘Goddess Most High …’
The galley of the Fortuna Redux was noisy, smelly and smoky. The noise was a combination of shouted conversation, rattling pots and pans, and a bubbling iron cauldron. The smell was an exotic mix of spices, barley and charcoal smoke. Cassius was surprised to see the cauldron was mounted on a metal grill in the middl
e of a hearth that wouldn’t have looked out of place in a farmhouse. All around it were tiles covering the timber walls to reduce the risk of fire. Cut into the ceiling was a smoke hole that opened up behind the deckhouse.
‘Check that barley!’ Opilio yelled over his shoulder. He was standing over a wooden counter, chopping vegetables with a cleaver.
Desenna – the Jew – was kneeling by the hearth, rearranging the coals beneath the grill with a poker. ‘Just checked it!’
‘Check again.’
Shaking his head, Desenna stood up and dipped a long-handled spoon into the cauldron.
‘They’re missing the pail!’ snapped Opilio. ‘Wake up, Tarkel.’
The third member of the galley crew was a skinny lad of thirteen or fourteen. He was squatting by the counter, trying to catch the vegetable offcuts coming his way.
Simo, who was standing in front of a huge water barrel, suddenly noticed his master. ‘Sorry, sir, won’t be a moment.’
Opilio turned round. ‘Ah, sir’s getting impatient for his wine.’
Cassius stepped inside the doorway. ‘Seems to help with my stomach.’
Opilio took a mug from Simo and went over to the hearth, then picked up a small pan of wine next to the cauldron. ‘You’ll be all right for the moment, sir. We’ve a calm sea. That’s why we’ve got to cook up as much as we can now. The captain likes a proper hot meal.’
Being stuck in this tiny space, preparing food in bad weather, was about as appalling a job of work as Cassius could imagine.
Having filled the mug, Opilio handed it to him. ‘I’ll keep that pan warm for you, sir. In case you’d like a bit more later.’
‘Much appreciated.’
Cassius and Simo left the galley. Even though the sea was indeed calm, it was generally necessary to keep a steadying hand on something solid. As they reached the cabin, the young maid Clara came down the steps, looking pale and anxious. Clutched over her impressive chest was a leather case. ‘Master Corbulo, sir?’
‘Yes? Ah – that will be those documents.’
Before Annia had returned to Amyndios to prepare for the journey, Cassius had asked her to collect the papers from her father’s study.