by George Green
Severus shook his head. ‘It was much worse for me. I heard that you were alive.’
The harbour-master laughed uproariously and punched him on the arm in a way that most men would have said tested the limits of affection.
‘Come on, let’s go and find a place we can get a drink. We’ve a lot of talking to do and we need refreshment to keep our throats in order.’
‘Good idea,’ said Severus, indicating his comrades with a nod of his head. ‘But first you have to stop fucking around with my friends here and get our lovely ship a decent berth so that we don’t have to walk for half a day just to reach the city.’
The harbour-master turned to them with a look of incredulity. ‘These ignorant barbarians are with you?’ Severus put one scarred forearm around his shoulders and gestured with the other. ‘Gentlemen, may I present ex-centurion Graptus, an old friend from the German campaigns.’ He pointed to his colleagues. ‘Graptus, may I present Brutus, Serpicus and Decius, some of the Germans that Rome brought home from the same campaigns. Oh, and that short fat one waddling towards us is Galba.’ There was a strained moment while everyone looked at each other, and then Galba arrived beside them, out of breath and sweating and cursing the distance that the Juno was moored, and everyone laughed at the same moment. Graptus shook hands with the four of them. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Let’s get that drink.’
‘What about the boat?’ asked Brutus. Graptus turned and looked out over the harbour. He ran a finger thoughtfully down the scar on his face and then motioned to a tall dark-skinned man standing nearby to come over to him. The man walked over without lifting his feet off the ground and looked at them with no interest. He seemed surrounded by a sort of gentle gloom.
‘Cato.’
‘Yes, Graptus?’
The harbour-master slapped a hand onto his shoulder. ‘You know those Phoenicians who arrived the other day, the ones you don’t like?’
Cato raised an eyebrow. ‘Those Phoenicians? The ones moored over there?’ He pointed at a graceful ship berthed nearby at almost the exact centre of the forehead between the two horns of the breakwater.
‘Yes, the same Phoenicians who insulted you, your gods and your country.’
‘Because I didn’t leave the Emperor’s business and attend to them immediately? You mean those Phoenicians?’
Graptus nodded and smiled cheerfully. ‘That’s right, them. Please go and tell them that if their rat-infested slum of an apology for a boat is still fouling the waters of this, the Emperor’s most beautiful harbour, next time I pass by, then I’ll have their goods impounded, their boat sunk, and their heathen carcasses dragged off to jail. Would you do that for me?’
What Cato did wasn’t exactly a smile, but Serpicus got the definite feeling that the expression on his face was what would have been a smile on anyone else’s.
‘And I should perhaps tell them that this command is in the name of the Emperor?’
Graptus smiled. ‘Most certainly in His name, may the Gods protect Him.’
Cato went towards the Phoenician ship. If it is possible to slouch with a spring in one’s step, that’s what he did.
Graptus looked pleased. ‘He’ll enjoy doing that. They weren’t very nice to him when they arrived. Come to that, they weren’t very polite to me either.’ He spat into the ocean. ‘I’ve never had too much time for Phoenicians even on a good day. To be honest, if they hadn’t bribed me so incredibly well I probably wouldn’t have let them stay here at all.’
Serpicus looked at the little harbour-master, unsure if he was telling the truth or joking. He stared right back and let him wonder.
‘Come on, barbarians,’ Graptus said, slapping Brutus on the shoulder. ‘Let a Roman show you what a real drink tastes like. The wine here is the best in the Empire.’ He looked at Brutus and his expression became dubious. ‘Mind you, I’m sure we could probably find some of that asses’ piss you barbarians call beer. That is, if you haven’t a taste for a civilized man’s drink.’
Brutus stopped as if he had walked into a wall and turned, shoving a thick forefinger into the little man’s face.
‘Call me a barbarian if you want, Roman, and I’ll maybe even see it as a compliment, but no one insults German beer to my face.’
Graptus looked at Severus, then at Brutus, then back at Severus. He shrugged at the old centurion and inclined his head at Brutus.
‘I like him,’ Graptus said. ‘He’s buying the drinks.’
* * *
It was a long evening. Graptus and Severus’ acquaintance went back a long way and covered an enormous amount of ground, and they told almost all of it before they’d let anyone leave the tavern. By the time they arrived back at the port it was very late. The Phoenician ship was gone and the Juno’s captain was happily supervising the final details of taking its place. Cato was waiting at the quayside without any appearance of impatience.
Graptus looked at the Juno and clapped his hands. ‘Well done, Cato, well done,’ he said carefully with a minimum of slurring. ‘They give you any trouble?’
‘They were very angry,’ said Cato, dolefully. ‘But they were no trouble.’
Graptus looked serious. ‘The Emperor’s business.’
‘Indeed,’ said the dark-skinned man.
‘In the name of the Emperor,’ said Brutus rather loudly, and tripped over a thick rope. He didn’t get up again.
Severus beckoned a couple of guards down from the ship. They hauled Brutus up the gangplank by his armpits and dumped him on a pile of canvas. Severus followed him up the plank, stepped over him and beckoned to Serpicus.
‘Just time for a drink before bedtime, eh?’ he said.
‘Most certainly,’ Graptus said with enthusiasm and stepped forward.
Serpicus was just sober enough to know he probably shouldn’t have one, and drunk enough not to care. He followed the harbour-master rather unsteadily into the prow of the boat and sat down heavily on the bare deck. The men were mostly asleep on the stern of the ship, amongst the sailors. There was no rule that said that officers slept in the bow and the ranks in the stern, but that’s the way it happened on every ship in the Empire.
Serpicus tilted his head back. It was perhaps an hour before dawn. The stars were impossibly bright.
Graptus flopped down nearby and Severus lay down flat on the deck at his feet. The centurion produced a wineskin from somewhere, took a swallow and passed it to Cato, who had come onto the boat and sat down on the other side of Graptus so quietly that Serpicus hadn’t noticed him.
Graptus cleared his throat, propped himself up against the gunwale and spat noisily over the side. Then he settled back and closed his eyes. Severus did the same on the other side, so that he faced him. Their feet almost touched as they stretched them out. Cato sat upright without support. Serpicus was reclining on a sack of something soft that smelt of fish.
There was a silence, during which Graptus looked at his fingernails with mild interest.
‘I’ve known for three days you were coming,’ he said eventually, in an offhand way that had nothing offhand about it.
Serpicus blinked at him. ‘Us? We didn’t know that much ourselves. How?’ Cato was looking at Graptus intently. Serpicus had the feeling that there was something unsaid between them.
Graptus tugged at a cuticle. ‘Not you, necessarily, but someone like you.’ Cato seemed to relax slightly.
‘Keep talking,’ said Severus, sitting up. He immediately looked a lot more sober than he had a few moments before. Serpicus was dimly aware that, as he looked around him, Graptus was inspecting his fingernails with the seriousness and focus of a rational man, rather than the disbelieving intensity of the reeling mind. Of the others, Cato had been sober all along. Decius was unconscious on a pile of rope half-way along the dock. Brutus was sitting across from him with the dangling jaw and blank expression of a stunned bullock. Serpicus shrugged; just him awake and struggling then.
Graptus decided that his fingernails were satisfactory and
looked back up at them.
‘I heard that men in Ostia were being paid to work slowly loading a certain ship, and that men here were being paid to unload it the same way when it reached Genoa.’
‘This ship?’
Graptus nodded. Severus and Serpicus exchanged glances. The centurion looked serious. Serpicus suspected he just looked confused. He hoped that someone understood what was going on.
‘Why didn’t you tell us before?’ asked Severus. Graptus shrugged. ‘Wasn’t sure what to make of it.’ Severus took the wineskin from Graptus and passed it to Cato without drinking. ‘What else do you know?’
‘A ship from Rome berthed here, half a day before you. Cato was paid to inform the captain when you arrived.’
‘And he did so?’ Serpicus asked, glaring at Cato. The dark man bore his displeasure without fear.
‘Of course he did,’ said Graptus, before Cato could reply and in a tone that suggested Serpicus was being stupid. ‘A ship’s arrival at a place like this isn’t exactly something that can be kept secret for long. I’d rather Cato got the money than someone else. If it’s any consolation, they got the worst berth in the entire harbour.’
‘And, of course, Cato can now tell us all about them, whereas another man would not,’ said Severus, with a warning glance at Serpicus.
Serpicus knew he hadn’t thought of that, and probably should have. He opened his mouth and then closed it without speaking.
‘Exactly,’ said Graptus. He looked at Cato as if his assistant was about to do something clever.
‘They are Romans, on their way to take command of the forces being sent to put down the rebellion of the German tribes,’ said Cato. ‘The leader is a tall man, maybe forty, with dark hair, cut short. He is serious, and looks like a soldier. A scar on his cheek, the left, I think – no, the right. Another man is with him. Younger and bigger. He has fair hair and a strange, high-pitched laugh. Not, I think, a soldier.’ There was a hint of scorn in his voice. ‘It is said that they are brothers, though there is little resemblance. Both are expensively dressed but the older man’s clothes are simple whereas the other is a fop with gold leaf down the edge of his tunic.’
Graptus shrugged. ‘Never seen them.’
Serpicus felt a cold stone appear in his stomach. He forced himself to think. ‘You say a scar on his cheek?’ Cato nodded. ‘The right one.’
Severus looked at Serpicus appraisingly. ‘You know them?’
Serpicus nodded. ‘Just a moment,’ he said. He walked across the deck to the side furthest from the pier and kept going. The water closed over his head, colder than he had expected. He emerged sneezing and spitting. He grabbed a rope that hung against the hull and pulled himself up the side and back onto the deck. He ran his hands back over his hair and slicked the water off, and sat down again on the pungent bundle of ropes.
‘Better?’ asked Graptus. He used a tone of voice that sounded like an indulgent uncle watching boys getting into scrapes that he saw coming but let them find out for themselves. Serpicus felt it was the sort of voice that was going to get annoying if he used it a lot. Graptus grinned at Severus. ‘You teach them to swim, they just can’t resist showing off, can they?’
Severus chuckled. ‘It’s walking they have difficulty with.’
Serpicus tried to growl but it just made drips fly across the deck. He used his sleeve to wipe the excess water off his face.
‘Those two men,’ he said.
Severus looked at him enquiringly. ‘You know them?’
Serpicus nodded. ‘So do you, or at least you’ve heard of them. Marcus and Consilius. Sejanus’ cousins.’
Graptus raised an eyebrow in surprise and then frowned. ‘Both of the Partner’s two Gilded Bollocks here in person, eh? Why would they be following you?’
Serpicus concentrated. Nothing made much sense. ‘I doubt Blaesus trusts us. Maybe he’s planning on making sure we don’t try and make a run for it or something.’ Serpicus knew it was weak, unlikely. Blaesus had his family, he knew Serpicus would return if he was still alive.
‘There is more to tell you,’ said Graptus. He glanced at Cato, who nodded.
‘They weren’t the only group who paid me to tell them when you arrived,’ he said.
Brutus sighed, broke wind loudly and pulled himself to his feet. ‘You lot just aren’t going to let a man sleep, are you?’ he said. He stepped onto the gunwale and disappeared over the side.
‘Is this some sort of German ritual after drinking?’ asked Graptus mildly, watching the water settle.
A few moments later Brutus appeared again. He stood dripping on the deck, bent over at the waist and shook himself vigorously. When he stood up his long red hair was wound around his head like seaweed.
‘Now,’ he said clearly. ‘I think perhaps everyone had better share everything they know.’
Serpicus told them about Blaesus and Decius and his family and the bear, all of it.
When he was finished the sun was washing the dark from the horizon. He felt light-headed in a way that had nothing to do with the wine.
Severus was frowning at Cato. ‘And you say there is another group of men interested in us?’
Cato nodded. ‘Those are the ones I know of, the ones who bribed me to tell them when you arrived. There may be others who bribed someone else or who didn’t need to bribe anyone at all.’
‘You’re doing well out of us.’
Cato smiled. ‘Indeed. I have also been told that they have been scouring the taverns and hiring mercenaries at high wages for a short contract.’
Severus was thinking hard. ‘So. We have the sons of our employer following us for no apparent reason apart from their little spat with you, and don’t forget that they are supposed to be putting down the obviously small matter of an uprising in Germany, and at least one group of men following us as well. Why?’
‘Presumably because they either want the bear for themselves or at least want to make sure that Blaesus doesn’t get it?’ suggested Brutus.
Serpicus shrugged. ‘Or for any one of a dozen other reasons we know nothing about.’
‘It’s like a game,’ Graptus said to himself.
Galba looked gloomy. ‘Or a military campaign.’
Serpicus looked up at the night sky. ‘That too. They have a lot in common! But let’s assume it’s peaceful until we know any different.’
Galba shook his head. ‘Actually I’d prefer to assume the opposite.’
Serpicus smiled. ‘Fair enough. Do we agree that it isn’t in their interests to do anything until we have the bear?’
Severus grunted agreement. ‘That seems reasonable. They’ll allow us to do the work and then try and take it from us on the way back.’
‘They might kill us as soon as possible to prevent us getting it at all,’ Brutus said.
Severus shook his head. ‘True, but then no one gets it. That’s possible, but it doesn’t sound Roman. They all want it.’
Serpicus looked at the faces around him. ‘So. Game or campaign, we carry on, showing as little of our hand as possible and waiting for them to reveal theirs.’
There was no reply.
‘We haven’t really got a choice, have we?’ he said.
Chapter Eighteen
They set off three days later. Cato had been right about the bribery. The dockers in Genoa treated the cargo from the Juno like some strange and potentially lethal material that they had never seen before. The expedition ended up unloading most of it themselves, which at least meant that less of it got stolen than usual. Once it was off the boat, the dockers, presumably encouraged by the fact that none of them had died suddenly as a result of handling it, suddenly found the supplies immensely desirable, and Severus had to mount a full-time guard on the dockside to prevent the expedition setting off with nothing except that which they carried on their backs. They were glad to leave Genoa. Graptus gave them a couple of wineskins to remember him by. They promised to bring him something back in return when they passed through
on the way home.
‘Fine,’ he said, ‘anything. Just don’t bring me any bloody German beer.’
As Serpicus was putting his wineskin in what he hoped was a safe place amongst the baggage, Brutus caught his eye. The big man inclined his head slightly towards where the men were arguing in a melee about storage space a short distance away. Serpicus looked where Brutus was indicating and saw Cato threading his way unobtrusively between the soldiers towards him. Cato caught Serpicus’ eye in a way that told him that he wanted to speak. Serpicus indicated with a gesture that Cato should circle round and meet him beside a nearby column by the corner of the courtyard.
The dark man leant against the column as he waited for Serpicus in a way that was so resolutely casual and unconspiratorial that it was utterly suspicious. Serpicus pulled him round to the far side so that no one could see them. Brutus had sauntered after them, and now propped himself against the pillar while he ate some fat black olives with single-minded attention. No one could get past him to overhear the conversation.
‘Any news?’ Serpicus asked, feeling that Cato would hardly have come if there was none.
‘Graptus sent me to tell you that Marcus and Consilius left Genoa with their men last night, heading north. The rumour amongst the men is that they will go through the mountains together and then split up, circle around and meet up at Anthropae.’
‘Please thank Graptus, and my thanks to you too.’
Cato gave him a slight bow. He seemed to hesitate.
‘Is there anything else?’
He raised a hand slightly, lowered it again, then said in a rush, ‘May I ask a favour?’
‘Of course.’
‘Graptus has suggested that I might ask if I might accompany you. Would you be willing to have me?’
Serpicus thought for a moment. ‘Why?’
He looked slightly embarrassed. ‘Graptus feels that I may be of more use to you than I am to him. He has told me that he wishes to employ a more… vigorous assistant, and that I should seek alternative employment.’ He gave him a quick nervous smile. ‘For myself, I have been in Genoa long enough to be glad of the chance of a change. I have always been curious to see the lands to the north.’ Serpicus looked at him with a raised eyebrow, and Cato saw it. He glanced down at his feet and then back at him. ‘I was a soldier myself, for three years.’ The nervous smile again. ‘Not a very good one, I admit, but we saw action.’