Agent of Rome: The Far Shore

by Brown, Nick

  The god fell backwards, and landed in beans and meat gravy.

  ‘Balls. Sorry, Neptune.’

  Cassius – who had accidentally knocked the little table as he sat down on the bed – righted the two-inch figurine and cleaned it off with his napkin. Also on the table was a plate complete with a small portion of every constituent of his dinner: barley broth, green beans, a chunk of pork, and some sweet berries. Cassius bowed his head and reminded himself to slow his speech; his mother always told him off for saying his prayers too quickly.

  ‘This I give to you, Great Neptune, Lord of the Waves, God of the Deep. I thank you – and my stomach thanks you – for the favour you have shown us so far. In exchange for my offering, I ask for fair weather for the remainder of our journey. Thank you, Great Neptune, Lord of the Waves, God of the Deep.’

  Simo – returning to the cabin with freshly washed plates – examined the hourglass. ‘I believe that’s the second hour, sir. Which buckle for your belt?’

  ‘Oh you choose, Simo. It’s hardly a dinner party.’

  Cassius already had on his best scarlet tunic. He waited for Simo to select a buckle (a silver piece with a leaping fish) and attach it to a belt, then stood up. As Simo put the belt around his waist, Cassius noticed the Gaul had taken out one of his little books.

  ‘Planning some reading?’

  Simo buckled the belt. ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘What’s in there?’

  ‘Teachings, sir. Lessons. I have committed almost half of it to memory.’

  ‘Really? Very impressive.’

  ‘When I have memorised the whole book I can advance to the next level, sir. I will be able to receive instruction directly.’

  ‘I see. Simo, I meant to say – you should perhaps keep your beliefs to yourself while we’re on board ship with this lot.’

  ‘It might be that some of the men wish to hear of Christ’s teachings, sir. They may wish to change the path of their lives, seek out the mysteries of the—’

  Cassius held up a hand. ‘Now, Simo, I’ve been over this with you before. I know you and your fellows think it’s acceptable to tell others what they should believe, but I’m afraid most people don’t see it like that. Keep it to yourself.’

  There was a knock on the door and Opilio stuck his head in. ‘Coming up for that drink then, sir?’

  ‘It would appear so.’

  ‘Enjoy yourself, Master Cassius,’ said Simo.

  ‘You sure you don’t want to come along?’

  ‘No. Thank you, sir.’

  Cassius followed Opilio along the passageway.

  ‘Not often we get a chance to sup with two young ladies in the captain’s cabin,’ said the hold-chief with a ribald grin. Cassius reckoned he was even uglier than Abascantius, which was quite a feat. It had often occurred to him that there were few worse fates than to be born utterly unattractive, and he’d even postulated that it might be better to be a handsome slave than an ugly freeman.

  At the bottom of the steps they met Indavara, who was still moving some of the scattered twig bales away from his bed. Cassius noticed a pail of water there too.

  ‘You coming along, Muscles?’ asked Opilio.

  ‘Yes.’

  Indavara ran a hand through his hair, patting it down over his mutilated ear.

  Cassius sniffed the air. ‘Are you wearing scent?’

  ‘What of it?’

  ‘Nothing,’ Cassius replied with a smile.

  ‘I too am wearing a perfume,’ Opilio announced. ‘Essence of the kitchens. Very powerful.’

  ‘Indeed it is,’ replied Cassius.

  ‘Come along then,’ said the hold-chief, starting up the squeaking steps. ‘I don’t suppose you two have met Marcus Aurelius yet, have you?’

  Cassius and Indavara exchanged bemused glances, then followed him.

  The mystery of Marcus Aurelius was quickly solved.

  ‘Ah yes,’ said Asdribar when Opilio mentioned him, ‘the oldest member of my crew.’

  Cassius glanced at Squint when he heard this. The aged sailor was sitting to his right, next to Opilio, on one side of the table that had been moved into the middle of the deckhouse. Opposite the three men were Annia and Clara, each sitting on one of the beds. Annia’s hair had been plaited and tied so as to resemble a little crown. Asdribar was at the end of the table, closest to the door. Cassius had made sure he avoided being next to Annia, leaving Indavara the seat at the other end. The bodyguard looked rather awkward, perched on a low stool, trying very hard not to gaze at the young lady to his left. Asdribar reached into a locker and pulled out a wooden box.

  ‘I suppose I should have told you ladies – considering you’ve been sharing cabin space with him.’

  As he put the box down on the table, Opilio and Clara moved their glasses out of the way. Everyone had already received a generous measure of the cinnamon wine. Asdribar looked around at his audience and took his time undoing the hook securing the little door on one side of the box.

  ‘Move the light,’ he told Squint, who pushed an oil lamp aside. ‘He likes the dark, you see.’

  Indavara and Clara hunched forward, fixated on the box. Annia – like Cassius – was trying to resist the Carthaginian’s attempts at showmanship.

  Asdribar opened the door. ‘And here he is.’

  ‘Here’s what?’ asked Indavara.

  ‘We can’t see anything,’ said Annia.

  Asdribar knocked the top of the box. Cassius found himself leaning across the table.

  Suddenly, there was a loud crack from outside. All the non-sailors jumped and Cassius barely avoided spilling wine down his tunic.

  ‘Just the yard shifting, sir!’ came the shout from Korinth.

  ‘I see it, I see it,’ announced Clara.

  A clawed, scaly leg appeared out of the shadows.

  Opilio placed a handful of carrot tops on the table. ‘I brought these for him.’

  Indavara’s jaw dropped as the little creature emerged from the box and took slow, tottering steps across the table. ‘What is that?’

  ‘Never seen one?’ asked Cassius.

  Indavara shook his head.

  ‘It’s a tortoise,’ said Annia, as if it were impossible someone might not know such a thing.

  ‘Remarkable animals,’ Cassius observed. He remembered pestering his parents to buy him one as a boy, but they’d been unable to find any in Ravenna. ‘They live to a good age, don’t they?’

  ‘Indeed they do, Officer,’ replied Asdribar.

  Cassius examined the enigmatic grins on the faces of the captain and his crewmen. ‘What?’

  ‘Guess how old he is,’ said Opilio after a swig of wine.

  ‘I’ll give you a clue,’ added Asdribar. ‘He’s older than Squint. Just.’

  The old sailor took this in good humour, holding his glass up to the captain.

  Cassius shrugged and decided to aim high. ‘Sixty-five.’

  Asdribar shook his head. ‘Keep going.’

  ‘Seventy,’ said Annia.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Eighty,’ offered Cassius.

  ‘You’ve a way to go yet,’ murmured Squint, rubbing his good eye with his fingers.

  ‘One hundred!’ yelled Clara, prompting laughter from Cassius and the sailors. Annia gave the maid a sharp look and pointed at her wine, indicating she’d already drunk enough.

  ‘Marcus Aurelius,’ Cassius said thoughtfully. ‘He can’t be.’

  ‘He is,’ said the captain. ‘Named after the man made emperor in the year of his birth.’

  ‘Which makes him one hundred and eleven.’

  ‘Exactly right.’

  Asdribar took the box off the table and sat down. Marcus Aurelius was now nibbling at the green fronds of the carrot tops.

  ‘One hundred and eleven?’ said Indavara. ‘It’s impossible.’

  ‘It’s not,’ said Annia. ‘One of the longest-lived creatures there are.’

  ‘By Jupiter,’ said Cassius, who’d been busy
with a few calculations. ‘There have been forty-four different emperors since then.’

  ‘Yes, he’s seen a lot of upheaval,’ said Asdribar. ‘Doesn’t seem to bother him much though.’ He turned to Clara. ‘I tried to offer him a wage once but he wouldn’t take a single coin.’

  Clara giggled.

  ‘How did you come by him?’ Cassius asked.

  ‘He came with the ship,’ replied Asdribar. ‘And he’s been with us everywhere: up the great Egyptian river, through the gates of Byzantium, even out past the Pillars of Hercules.’

  ‘You’ve seen the Great Ocean?’ asked Cassius.

  ‘Me and Squint both. What was it? Twelve, thirteen years ago now? Up to Portus Cale on the west coast of Spain.’

  ‘What about Gaul and Britain?’ Cassius asked.

  ‘We didn’t get that far.’

  Squint cleared his throat and spoke up: ‘A man sails too far past the Pillars, he sails beyond the reach of the gods, where worship and favour mean nothing. There is naught but the sea there; a huge, grey swell that rolls on for ever.’

  Indavara took a long swig of wine.

  ‘Still,’ said Squint, with a little glance at Opilio. ‘Can’t really call yourself a sailor unless you’ve seen the Great Ocean with your own eyes.’

  ‘The amount you go on about it, I feel like I’ve been there,’ replied Opilio.

  ‘Tell me,’ said Cassius, leaning forward to address Asdribar. ‘Commander Litus. Surely not all the navy men you come across are like that?’

  ‘A shakedown,’ replied Asdribar matter-of-factly. ‘Just as I told you.’

  ‘He was one of the worst,’ added Opilio. ‘Officers weren’t that bad in my day.’

  Squint made a noise that suggested he didn’t agree.

  ‘Exactly which part of the army are you from, Officer?’ asked Asdribar. ‘I’d not heard of this Imperial …’

  ‘Security Service. As you know, Miss Annia’s father was a very senior officer. The Service is – technically speaking – part of the army but in practice we often act independently. Basically we deal with specific threats to the Empire and the Emperor.’

  Asdribar looked impressed. ‘Interesting work?’

  ‘Oh, certainly,’ said Cassius. ‘Eh, Indavara?’

  Indavara looked mildly terrified at having to join the conversation.

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Interesting.’

  ‘So Muscles here is your bodyguard?’ asked Opilio.

  ‘Indeed he is,’ said Cassius, adjusting his tunic sleeve, which had somehow folded over on itself. ‘And a damned good one at that.’

  Indavara seemed rather embarrassed by the compliment but acknowledged it with a nod.

  ‘I can believe it,’ continued Opilio. ‘Knocked our mouthy young deck-chief on his backside, so I hear.’

  ‘That’s water under the bridge now,’ affirmed Asdribar.

  ‘Quite right,’ said Cassius. ‘How many years were you with the navy, Opilio?’

  ‘Twenty-two, would you believe?’

  Annia spoke up: ‘And you, Officer Corbulo, how long have you served?’

  To Cassius, her implication seemed clear. Nonetheless, he did his best to answer politely.

  ‘Nearly three years, miss. Why?’

  ‘I just wondered.’

  Cassius sipped his wine through pursed lips.

  ‘One can experience a remarkable amount in three years,’ he added. ‘It has often occurred to me that, from within the walls of a home, a woman cannot possibly understand the travails of a man’s life: the travel, the hardship, the burdens of duty.’

  ‘I understood my father’s travails,’ Annia replied. ‘He spoke to me of them often.’

  The ensuing silence was broken by Asdribar.

  ‘Twenty-two years,’ he said, looking at Opilio. ‘Why’d you leave again? Did someone actually taste your food?’

  Squint chuckled.

  ‘Ha ha,’ said Opilio.

  Asdribar stood up, slapped him on the shoulder, then began topping up the glasses.

  ‘Take it slowly,’ he told the passengers. ‘Potent stuff if you’re not used to it.’

  When he got to Clara, Annia held up a hand. ‘She’s had enough.’

  ‘Just a little, miss?’ said Asdribar.

  ‘A tiny bit, then. She’s usually allowed nothing at all.’

  Clara bowed to her mistress. Asdribar gave her more than a tiny bit.

  Annia shuffled slightly to her right. She looked at Indavara for a moment, then spoke. ‘I saw you with a page of writing earlier today. Are you studying something?’

  Indavara looked about as fearful as Cassius had ever seen him but he eventually summoned a reply. ‘Yes, miss. A few sums.’

  ‘Ah, I see – and how are you getting on?’

  ‘Look at Marcus go,’ said Asdribar. The tortoise was now munching his way through the carrot tops with some enthusiasm. ‘At least he likes your food, Opilio.’

  Squint then embarked on a long anecdote about a voyage where the ship’s cook had poisoned most of the crew, and from there the three sailors took it in turns to try and impress young Clara with their nautical tales. Cassius joined in now and again but kept one ear on the other two. To his surprise, Indavara managed to keep the conversation going.

  One hour and three large servings of Rhodian cinnamon wine later, Cassius was about ready to throw his glass at the wall. As if it wasn’t enough that the infernal girl had twice mocked him that day, she was now making a fool of herself with Indavara. They hadn’t stopped talking – mostly about reading and writing by the sounds of it – and Annia had made sure she didn’t cast a single glance in Cassius’s direction. It really was quite unseemly, a young lady from a family of standing like hers chattering away to a lowly bodyguard. She seemed to have forgotten herself entirely.

  Cassius poured himself another drink. He spilt rather a lot of it on the floor but no one seemed to notice. The sailors were talking about gambling, chariot races in particular.

  ‘What about gladiatorial contests?’ he blurted out. ‘Anybody ever bet on those?’

  ‘Now and again,’ replied Squint.

  Cassius could feel Indavara’s eyes on him but he said what he wanted to say anyway. ‘My man here was a gladiator. Won twenty fights to gain his freedom.’

  Even as the words left his mouth, Cassius knew he shouldn’t have said them, but he had to do something to break Annia’s apparent interest in Indavara. Surely even she would stop short of throwing herself at a man tarnished by the shame of slavery.

  Indavara glared at him from beneath his dark fringe of hair.

  ‘Is that true?’ Annia asked him.

  ‘Yes, miss.’

  ‘How terrible.’

  Cassius looked at her in disbelief, then wondered why he hadn’t remembered that her behaviour seldom conformed to expectations.

  ‘He doesn’t really like to talk about it,’ he said. ‘Though I fancy you might get something out of him, miss.’

  Cassius downed the rest of his wine.

  ‘That might be enough of the Rhodian stuff for you tonight, Officer,’ said Asdribar.

  ‘Possibly, Captain. Possibly.’

  When Cassius put his glass down on the table it sounded very loud. ‘In fact, I think I shall retire.’

  He stood up, then waited for the fog to recede from his eyes. ‘That is strong stuff.’

  He squeezed past Opilio and Squint and reached the door. ‘Good night to you all. Clara, I must say – you really are rather pretty.’

  The maid gave a shy smile, then looked at the floor.

  ‘Marcus Aurelius, I must say – you really are not.’

  While the sailors laughed, Cassius reached out and stroked the tortoise’s shell. The round little head turned and looked back at him.

  Opilio spoke up: ‘He says neither will you be when you’re a hundred and eleven.’

  ‘True, true. Good night, Miss Annia, Indavara. I trust you will enjoy the rest of your evening.’
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  Asdribar stood up and opened the door for him. ‘I shall accompany you to your cabin.’

  ‘That’s really not necessary.’

  ‘Come, those steps are lethal.’

  Once outside, the chilly wind did a little to clear Cassius’s head. He took a long breath and looked around. Korinth was there, leaning languidly against the port side-rail watching Desenna, who was on the helm. The other men on deck were further forward and singing a melodic shanty in Greek – something about distant ports and exotic treasures. Cassius looked up, and had to put his arms out to steady himself. At the top of the mast was the dim glow of a lantern. Above, the sky was clear. Cassius couldn’t decide if the stars were blue or white.

  ‘Beautiful night.’

  ‘It is,’ said Asdribar. ‘Let’s hope for a beautiful day tomorrow.’

  He put a hand on Cassius’s arm but Cassius shook it off.

  ‘Honestly, Captain. I’m fine.’

  ‘Very well, I shall just see you below then.’

  Cassius stepped shakily over the tiller array and walked to the hatch, Asdribar close behind. As they made their way down the steps, Cassius kept a firm grip on the handrail.

  ‘Was that really necessary?’ asked the Carthaginian.

  ‘What?’ Cassius asked, though he knew.

  ‘Bringing up the man’s past like that. You mentioned the burdens of duty earlier. I doubt if my work – or yours – can ever constitute as great a burden as he carries. The shame aside, imagine what he must have endured as a gladiator.’

  ‘I was simply informing her of the facts, Captain. If the young lady is happy to throw herself at a man such as him that’s her choice.’

  They arrived at the bottom of the steps.

  ‘“A man such as him”,’ quoted Asdribar. ‘Not an hour ago you were singing his praises. I gathered you were friends.’

  ‘We are, of sorts. But he is a bodyguard. Mine. Not my equal.’

  ‘I see.’

  Cassius kept his hand on the rail.

  Asdribar lowered his voice. ‘Korinth was a slave, and I’ve known many other freedmen over the years. It weighs heavy on them.’ Asdribar shook his head. ‘He’s told me some tales. I don’t know that I would have survived it.’

  Cassius considered this, though the wine made consideration something of a challenge. ‘It’s not that I’m without sympathy for what he must have been through. But he has never told Simo or me a single thing about his life before the arena, or even how he became a gladiator. Nothing. He might have been a thief, a murderer – anything.’