Agent of Rome: The Far Shore

by Brown, Nick

  Venator had good cause to be glad that Cassius had brought the Persian banner affair to a successful conclusion and had readily acceded to his two requests: firstly that Cassius be officially assigned to the Fourth; secondly that the prefect write him a letter of recommendation. The former was largely a formality but the latter was – to Cassius – nothing short of invaluable.

  It was a short note, just a few lines declaring that Venator knew Cassius to be a capable officer of good character and concluding with a request that the reader grant him favour and lend him assistance if required. The letter also happened to be the single most exciting piece of post Cassius had ever received; he had read it at least ten times before spending an indulgent night out to celebrate.

  As well as being a prefect in charge of five and a half thousand men, Venator came from an extremely influential family thought to be the sixth or seventh richest in the Empire. He had uncles and brothers in the Senate and contacts in dozens of provinces. A written, formal association with such a man could secure influence, financial assistance and (most crucial of all) protection. Along with his mail shirt and the spearhead, the letter was one of Cassius’s most prized possessions. His father had always told him a man is judged by four things: his words, his coins, his clothes and his letters.

  As he watched the two tenders cast off from the Armata, Cassius hoped he wouldn’t have to invoke either the letters or the spearhead. He’d never dealt with the navy before.

  ‘What you sketching that bloody monstrosity for, boy?’ asked Squint.

  Tarkel ignored him.

  ‘Let him draw,’ said Opilio, who’d also come up on deck to see the warship.

  When they were about fifty feet away, the tenders split up. The first continued slowly towards the starboard side of the Fortuna, while the other rounded the bow. The eight oarsmen in the first tender were sculling gently, just enough to keep the boat moving. In front of them were six marines clad in green tunics, wearing light leather armour with muscled chest plates. They also wore helmets, and three were armed with bows.

  Apart from the oarsmen and marines, there was one other man in the tender. He had been sitting close to the bow but now stood up, one hand on the boat to steady himself. In the other hand was a short stick with a balled end, which Cassius knew to be the naval equivalent of a centurion’s vine stick. He felt sure the officer must have noticed his crested helmet by now but there was no sign of acknowledgement. Cassius looked over his shoulder. The second tender was close to the port side.

  ‘Listen carefully!’ shouted the officer in Latin as Cassius turned back. ‘Two men are to stand by at the stern to take our lines. The rest of you are to gather by the mast. Any man with a blade or other weapon must take it off and place it on the deck. Do so now!’

  One of the older marines put his hand on his sword. The archers drew arrows and raised their bows.

  Indavara turned to Cassius. ‘Ready for war?’

  XII

  Once the two tenders had been secured, the marines hooked rope ladders over the stern and clambered up on to the Fortuna. Desenna and Korinth were the two sailors Asdribar had assigned to take the lines and as they withdrew to join the others, the Romans fanned out on either side of the deckhouse. Those without bows kept their hands by their sword hilts and stared hard at the group gathered by the mast. Unlike legionaries, the marines wore trousers under their tunics and long socks with their boots; instead of thick leather belts, their swords were slung from hardy lengths of cloth.

  The officer was the last to appear. He was a small man, too small for his voluminous, richly coloured, dark blue cloak. The clasp on his left shoulder was in the shape of an oyster shell and had been polished to a high sheen. His greying hair had been recently combed and oiled, and resisted the wind well. Thumping the ball of the stick into his palm, he stopped by the pile of daggers next to the hatch and gestured for Cassius to come forward.

  ‘What in the name of the great gods are you doing out here, young man?’

  ‘Cassius Quintius Corbulo, sir. Long story, I’m afraid.’

  The officer offered his hand and they shook forearms.

  ‘Commander Sextus Viridius Ivmarus Litus, Imperial Vessel Armata, Imperial Fleet of Alexandria.’

  ‘Might I ask why you hailed us, Commander?’

  ‘You tell your tale first. I’m third in command of a flagship, which rates me well above any centurion.’

  ‘I’m actually not a centurion, though my rank is equivalent. I’m with Imperial Security.’

  Litus raised an eyebrow. ‘This should be good. Speak.’

  ‘I arrived on Rhodes two days ago. I was there to meet Augustus Marius Memor, a very senior officer within the Service. Upon visiting his home I discovered he had been murdered. I began an investigation at once and have good reason to believe that the assassin left yesterday aboard a vessel bound for Cnossus. This ship was hired and we set off after it.’

  Litus looked past Cassius at the others. ‘And the young lady?’

  ‘Memor’s daughter,’ Cassius replied sheepishly. ‘She insisted on coming.’

  ‘My, my,’ replied Litus, ‘that is quite a tale.’

  ‘As you can appreciate, sir, time is very much of the essence. I must ask – is there any possibility of assistance? Your vessel might be able to overhaul the ship we are pursuing.’

  Litus gave the idea not a moment’s consideration. ‘Out of the question, I’m afraid. Apart from the dangers of the season – which mean my captain won’t risk the Armata out here a day longer than necessary – we are in pursuit of our own prey. You are aware of the Emperor’s campaign against Queen Zenobia of Palmyra?’

  ‘Fully aware.’

  ‘A certain faction of the local leadership in Egypt was rather favourable to her cause. They have been trying to stir up trouble for years and the Emperor has decided on decisive action. An arrest warrant was issued for their leader several days ago but the army failed to apprehend him. It is thought he made his escape by sea. We have been searching for his ship for the last three days.’

  ‘I see.’

  Litus took one neat little step to his right. ‘Whoever is Asdribar – come here!’

  As the Carthaginian strode forward, two of the marines came up close behind Litus.

  ‘Departure papers,’ instructed the Roman.

  Asdribar reached inside the little bag on his belt and produced a small sheet, which he handed to Litus. The naval officer brushed dust off the paper, then read it.

  ‘Seems to be in order,’ he said, returning the sheet to Asdribar. ‘I shall still have the ship searched. Must be thorough.’ He turned to Cassius. ‘I’m sure you understand.’

  ‘Sir, I can vouch for this man and his crew. They couldn’t possibly have been involved with this Egyptian – they were preparing to winter in Rhodes.’

  ‘You can vouch for him, you say?’

  Cassius glanced across at Asdribar, who was now looking rather uncomfortable.

  ‘Yes,’ Cassius said, barely convincing himself.

  ‘Because one of my marines told me he recognises the name Fortuna Redux.’ Litus tapped the balled stick against his thigh and fixed Asdribar with a provocative glare. ‘Knows the captain’s name. Knows what he is.’

  ‘And what is that?’ Asdribar asked defiantly.

  Litus leant towards him. ‘Address me without using “sir” again, and I’ll have your own crew bind you with your own lines, then have you keelhauled under your own ship. Is that understood?’

  Asdribar ground his teeth together before answering. ‘Understood, sir.’

  ‘Excellent.’

  Litus ran a hand across the stiff strands of his hair. ‘I could of course ask you about your cargo, ask you to declare any untaxed, undocumented goods, but in my experience such answers rarely elicit the truth, so these days I don’t even bother. Let’s see what we can find.’

  Litus spun on his heels and addressed the marines. ‘Four men to stay on deck. Four to the stern an
d work forwards; four to the bow and work back. Look everywhere. Go!’

  The marines swiftly divided themselves, their boots thumping across the deck as they set about the search. With a smug grin for Asdribar, Litus adjusted his cloak and made for the mast.

  Cassius blocked his path. ‘Sir, is this really necessary?’

  He thought Litus was about to shout at him, but the commander replied calmly.

  ‘Absolutely. Despite our current involvement in this special assignment, we of the Alexandrian mustn’t neglect our fundamental duty: monitoring piracy and smuggling in these waters. Millions are lost from the imperial coffers every year because of ships like this’ – Litus glanced back at Asdribar – ‘and men like him. That money must be recovered somehow.’

  ‘Sir, I can’t help feeling my superiors would be … disappointed by your attitude. Master Memor was second in command of the Service and we have a chance of catching his killer. We cannot afford to lose even an hour. Perhaps if you were to look at my letters. They are from Chief Pulcher in Rome, from Prefect Venator of the Fourth—’

  ‘These men have vouched for you, I presume.’

  ‘Yes.’

  Litus ran a hand across his hair once more. ‘Keep your little notes to yourself, Officer. Even assuming the men who wrote them possess better judgement than you, they are army men. We in the imperial fleet do things rather differently.’

  He gestured for Cassius to move aside.

  Cassius did so. ‘You have made that very clear, Commander.’

  While his marines continued their search, Litus walked over to Annia, kissed her hand and offered his condolences. Annia was polite at first, but as soon as Litus told her help from the navy would not be forthcoming, she turned away from him and refused to speak. Indavara and the sailors made no attempt to hide their amusement.

  ‘Strange girl,’ muttered Litus as he wandered back towards the stern.

  One of the marines came up the steps. ‘Sir, we’ve got a few locked chests down here.’

  ‘In here too,’ added one of the men who’d been searching the deckhouse.

  Litus pointed at Asdribar, who had rejoined the sailors by the mast.

  ‘The marines want something opened – you open it.’

  ‘The women are staying in the deckhouse,’ said Cassius. ‘Must you rummage through their belongings too?’

  Litus ignored him and kept his gaze on Asdribar. ‘Hurry.’

  Asdribar made his way across the deck past the Roman, who watched him all the way.

  ‘He wants their undergarments!’ cried a voice.

  The crew bellowed with laughter. Clara put a hand to her mouth in shock. Annia smothered a smile.

  Litus spun round, eyes blazing. ‘Who said that? Who?’

  He glanced at Cassius, who was fairly sure it had been Korinth. The deck-chief was standing with one hand on the mast, the other tucked into his belt.

  ‘Who was it?’ repeated Litus.

  ‘No idea,’ replied Cassius. ‘Sorry.’

  For the second time in two days, Cassius found himself waiting for a ship to be searched, though on this occasion an incriminating discovery would hinder the investigation rather than advance it. Quarter of an hour passed, and still the marines had found nothing. Annia walked to the bow and sat down with Clara, who brushed her mistress’s hair while she stared out at the sea. This sight was quite enough to keep the crew occupied, not to mention the four marines still on deck. Litus tried hard not to look impatient, but began to glance anxiously at the Armata and pace round the hatch. The only person who seemed happy with the situation was young Tarkel. He knelt by the side-rail, charcoal in hand, happily drawing the warship.

  One of the older marines came up through the hatch. ‘I think we’ve got something, sir. Baldy kept staring at this stack of twig bales. Looks like a load stashed behind them.’

  With a sly grin, Litus hurried down the steps.

  Cassius wandered over to the hatch. The marines stationed by the deckhouse watched him but said nothing. Cassius glanced down into the shadowy interior. Litus was looking on as his men threw the twig bales aside and investigated what they’d found.

  ‘Shit. They’re empty,’ said the older marine. ‘Sorry, sir.’

  ‘Show me that,’ replied Litus. Ignoring Cassius, the commander came halfway up the steps and held a small vase up to the sunlight. He smiled. ‘Ha! These are African red!’

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘Only the best clay money can buy, you peasant! See the insignia on the base? From Thuburbo Maius – the most prestigious centre of production. These will fetch twenty denarii a piece in Alexandria. Excellent. Quite excellent.’

  ‘Can I go up on deck?’ asked Asdribar.

  ‘Of course, Captain,’ replied Litus. ‘I’m sure you need a little air. Oh – and thank you for your help.’

  Asdribar came up the steps. Cassius tried to catch his eye but he walked back towards the crew, head down.

  It didn’t take long for the marines to load their booty. They loaded the clay vases into two barrels and lowered one into each of the tenders. In the meantime, Litus gave Asdribar permission to have the crew ready the ship.

  With the first tender already heading back to the Armata, the commander then summoned Cassius and Asdribar to the stern. Only one marine from the other tender remained on board. He stood behind Litus as the Roman addressed the Carthaginian.

  ‘Consider yourself lucky, most lucky, that I am in a generous mood. If this vessel weren’t such a worthless piece of junk, I would take something else as a fine.’

  Asdribar stared morosely at the deck.

  ‘As it is,’ Litus continued, ‘confiscation of these undeclared goods will have to suffice.’ He turned to Cassius. ‘And so the fight against smuggling goes on.’

  ‘And what a noble fight it is,’ Cassius countered. ‘I only hope this pointless delay doesn’t prove crucial.’

  Litus nodded down at the barrel below. ‘Oh, far from pointless, Officer. Very far indeed.’ He gathered his cloak about him. ‘A small piece of advice, young man. If I were you, I would give more careful consideration to my choice of travelling companions.’

  With a helping hand from the marine, Litus negotiated the rope ladder and sat down in the bow of the tender. The marine unhooked the ladder and climbed nimbly down. Asdribar removed the line and threw it to him.

  One of the oarsmen called out commands and the tender got under way. Grinning, Litus took one of the clay pots from the barrel and examined it. He waved to them. ‘Farewell! Fair wind!’

  Asdribar watched for a moment, then turned away. Cassius was astonished to see he was smiling.

  Half an hour later, he found out why.

  With the mainsail lowered and the foresail raised, the Fortuna was soon back up to speed. The Armata had departed as soon as the tenders returned and was now powering away to the east. The vessels were already more than a mile apart.

  ‘Shall we, Captain?’ asked Squint, when he was satisfied the yard and sails were set properly.

  ‘Go ahead,’ answered Asdribar, now back in his chair, examining the remarkably accurate sketch Tarkel had completed.

  Squint and another sailor took two very long boathooks from a rack. Standing about six feet apart, they leant over the port side-rail and reached down. Korinth came over and stood between them.

  ‘Don’t you lose any,’ Asdribar instructed.

  ‘Got it?’ Squint asked the other sailor.

  ‘Got it.’

  ‘Up we go.’

  By now, Indavara, Simo, Annia and Clara had all come over to see what was going on. Korinth reached over the rail and took hold of something. The others dropped their boathooks and helped him. Moments later a dripping net was dragged over the side and lowered to the deck. Inside it were six small barrels and a few rocks.

  ‘They look all right, Captain,’ said Squint, breathing hard.

  ‘Good. What about the others?’

  Squint and the other man picked up
their boathooks and crossed to the other side of the deck with Korinth.

  Cassius was grinning. ‘Crafty, Captain. Very crafty.’

  Asdribar shrugged. ‘An old trick. A couple of the marines were talking about checking the hull once they were done down below so I made sure they found the pots. What we in the trade call a “dummy discover”. Luckily, that was enough for them.’

  ‘Better to lose half your profits than all, I suppose.’

  ‘Actually I doubt I’ve lost more than a few sesterces.’

  ‘I don’t follow, Captain,’ said Annia.

  ‘The vases are replicas, miss. Cheap Greek knock-offs. Packed on top of each other in those barrels like that, I doubt any of them will still be in one piece by the time they get back to Alexandria.’

  Cassius smiled again as he thought of Litus’s face when realisation dawned. ‘What’s in the barrels?’

  ‘Rhodian cinnamon wine. Can’t buy anything like it on Crete. I would have liked to have got forty barrels but there wasn’t much time.’

  ‘What’s your profit on that?’

  ‘Promise you won’t tell anyone?’

  ‘I promise.’

  ‘Without export dues – and if we can find the right buyer in Cnossus – we’ll double our money.’

  ‘Nice,’ said Cassius.

  ‘When do you think we might be there?’ Annia asked.

  Asdribar squatted down and patted one of the barrels affectionately. ‘If the wind stays as it is, perhaps this time tomorrow. In fact, in light of our continuing good luck with the weather and our recent narrow escape, I suggest we open one of these later. If the young lady will allow us to use the deckhouse for an hour or two, we can enjoy a post-dinner drink. Shall we say the second hour of night?’

  XIII

  The god’s broad, muscled body was naked save for a loincloth. His long, flowing hair ran down over his shoulders to the star emblazoned on his chest. He stood with his trident thrust forward, proud and defiant.