by Brown, Nick
Cassius walked over to him and waited for a break in the conversation. ‘Will you ask about the Cartenna?’
‘Of course.’
When the captain relayed Asdribar’s query to his crew, several men spoke up. Asdribar translated for Cassius. ‘The Cartenna came in yesterday – it was moored not far from them.’
‘And the passenger? Dio. He is a small man, hooded cloak, carrying a—’
‘Yes, I know. I asked. Apparently he was going from ship to ship, trying to find passage off the island. Two of Valtava’s men spoke to him.’
Captain Valtava shouted across the water again. He pointed to a bare-chested crewman, who took up the tale.
‘What’s he saying?’ Cassius asked impatiently.
Asdribar was too busy listening to reply.
Braving the attentions of the sailors, Annia returned to the side-rail.
When the sailor finished, Asdribar continued: ‘That fellow was drinking with a friend of his last night – navigator on an Egyptian merchantman called the Isis. His captain agreed to take Dio.’
‘Where?’
‘That’s the thing,’ said Asdribar. ‘The captain was paid a considerable sum but on condition that only he could know where they were going. The crew weren’t to find out until they were at sea. This navigator and some of the others weren’t happy about it, but the captain was offering double pay.’
‘When did they leave?’
‘A couple of hours ago.’
‘The ship we saw,’ said Annia.
‘Yes, miss.’
‘By the gods,’ said Cassius, smacking the side-rail. ‘We almost had the son of a bitch.’
‘We could not have got here sooner,’ said Asdribar.
‘We must go after them,’ insisted Annia.
Cassius stared down at the water. He had expected to be in Cnossus harbour within the hour. The thought of heading out to sea again – after a ship that might be headed anywhere – was a deeply unpleasant prospect.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I suppose we must.’
Valtava spoke again to Asdribar.
‘He says the Isis is a grain freighter. She’s bigger than the Fortuna. Quicker too.’
‘You told me your ship was fast, Captain,’ said Annia.
‘She’s the fastest there is, for her size. But the Isis has forty or fifty feet on us, perhaps double the sail area.’
‘Then we should not delay,’ Annia replied.
Asdribar rubbed his brow. ‘Miss, the Isis was heading west towards the other end of the island. If they’re not headed for Greece, they could be bound for anywhere, even—’
‘Africa,’ said Annia flatly. ‘Yes. I know.’
Asdribar came closer, so that the rest of the crew wouldn’t hear. ‘Miss, that’s two hundred miles of open sea. I’ve done the journey many times in the season, but if the weather turns bad there are no islands, no ports or anchorages. Nowhere to go.’
‘We know where we are going,’ countered Annia. ‘We are following the Isis. Captain, I didn’t secure your services with the expectation that you would baulk at the first sign of difficulty. More days at sea mean a very full bag of gold coins.’
Asdribar looked up at the mast. ‘There is almost no wind.’
Annia pointed across at the Rusucurru. ‘The Fortuna also has oars, does it not?’
‘Miss, I did explain that I don’t have a full crew. We might only make three knots.’
‘That’s three knots more than we’re making now.’
Cassius had listened to the whole conversation and conceded to himself that Annia was undeniably impressive when she got the bit between her teeth.
Asdribar spoke again to his fellow captain, then reported back once more.
‘Valtava knows these waters well. He says the mist won’t have spread out much further than a mile. They are heading north and will give us a tow while we get the yard down and ready the oars.’
‘Excellent,’ said Annia. ‘Thank you, Captain.’
Valtava’s local knowledge and the ability of his crew were soon proved beyond doubt. The well-drilled oarsmen of the Rusucurru seemed barely troubled by the additional burden of the Fortuna Redux; soon both ships were cutting across the pond-like sea, beyond the last wreaths of the Cretan mist and out into the watery midday sunshine. Tarkel, still at the top of the mast, had just sighted the Isis.
‘How far?’ yelled Asdribar.
‘Ten miles, give or take.’
‘At what distance will we lose sight of it?’ Cassius asked.
‘Twelve or thirteen.’
Belatedly realising he hadn’t got a description from the two crewmen who’d been approached by Dio, Cassius then spent a fairly surreal half-hour sitting at the Fortuna’s bow, conducting a shouted interview with them as they stood on either side of the Rusucurru’s sternpost.
He soon concluded that the assassin was well suited to his work. His lack of height seemed to be his only notable physical feature and the two men could offer little more than Drusus Viator had on Rhodes. The sailors did at least remember – after repeated questioning – that he was clean-shaven, with short, black hair; not particularly handsome or ugly; not particularly dark-skinned or light-skinned; and spoke good Greek with no discernible accent.
Just as Cassius finished questioning them, Asdribar came forward to oversee the detaching of the tow rope. The Rusucurru slowed, then was stopped dead by the oarsmen, and as the Fortuna drifted up behind her, the rope was hauled in by Korinth.
Asdribar was carrying one of the barrels of cinnamon wine, around which he had wrapped a length of rope. Seeing it, Valtava grinned, then held up a little cloth package tied with twine. With a mighty heave, Asdribar sent the barrel into the water a couple of yards from the Rusucurru’s broad stern. One of the crew grabbed a boathook and retrieved it. Valtava waited until the still-drifting Fortuna was only four or five yards away, then threw the package to Asdribar, who snatched it out of the air with ease. Once Valtava had ordered the oarsmen back to work, the freighter began to pull away. The two Carthaginians kept up their conversation as sailors from both vessels shouted farewells.
Without thinking about it, Cassius waved. Valtava returned the gesture and shouted in Greek: ‘Good luck, Roman! Make sure you pay him what he’s due!’
‘Not my problem,’ Cassius said quietly, before turning to Asdribar. ‘Why the exchange of gifts?’
‘It’s traditional for a meeting at sea,’ said Asdribar, examining the contents of the package.
‘What’s in there?’
‘Dried camel meat. Carthaginian speciality. You can try some later.’
‘Mmm.’
As they walked back along the deck, the five long oars poking out of each side of the Fortuna’s hull began to move. Opilio was in charge of the rowing team, which was in fact every member of the crew apart from Squint and Asdribar. Even young Tarkel had been drafted – he was to beat the timing drum. As the ship picked up speed, Asdribar cast a concerned glance at the hatch. ‘They’ve not done a lot of oar-work recently. I shall have to go easy on them. I usually just wait for a wind, unless time is of the essence.’
‘A hard taskmaster, young Annia,’ Cassius replied.
Asdribar grinned. ‘I thought Roman girls were supposed to be seen and not heard.’
‘They are.’
To the relief of all aboard, the breeze increased steadily throughout the afternoon and, after only three hours under oars, the sails were back up again, filling well and driving the Fortuna westward.
They lost sight of the Isis just before sunset and Asdribar called in later to tell Cassius there was no sign of a light. Like the other passengers and the crew, he would have to wait until dawn to find out if their prey had disappeared.
XV
At the fifth hour of the following day, with another bout of mist finally clearing, the Fortuna Redux rounded the western cape of Crete. The only sign of life on the bleak, undulating headland were five tall flagpoles. There were fl
ags on only two of them – nothing more than shredded bits of cloth, sapped long ago of any trace of colour.
Every passing hour seemed to add strength to the wind blasting from the north, propelling the Fortuna across the white-topped waves at close to her maximum speed. The only disadvantage was the constant strain on the mast, the yard and the rest of the rig. Most of the crew were needed to keep the mainsail correctly aligned; Korinth and Squint patrolled anxiously across the deck, checking blocks and lines, rings and knots. The little tender was thumping around on the waves and taking on water – it had already been bailed out twice.
A mile to the south-east were two small vessels that Asdribar had already dismissed as local fishing boats. Ahead was only a vast swathe of sea. Cassius recalled a phrase of Squint’s that had stayed with him: A huge, grey swell that rolls on forever.
‘Hurry then!’ shouted Korinth to Tarkel, who was halfway up the mast.
‘Leave the lad be,’ said Asdribar. ‘Poor little sod’s been up and down there like a monkey. Do you want him to fall?’
Cassius licked salt off his lips and tried not to watch Tarkel’s perilous progress upward. The boy had a rope around him but the pitching of the ship made his climb doubly difficult. Indavara and Annia were to Cassius’s left, like him leaning against the deckhouse with one hand on the wooden bar that ran around it. Annia was wrapped up in a cloak and gazing contemplatively at the bow as it dipped and rose with the waves.
Cassius considered what might happen if the lad couldn’t see the Isis. If the Fortuna turned round, the wind would be against them. How long back to Rhodes? Four, five days? Could easily be a week or longer. And what then?
He wondered how it had all come down to this. Was there more he could have done? All things considered, he doubted it. In fact, he was pretty sure the assassin would have got clean away if he hadn’t been there to take charge. Surely the gods had had a hand in that; and it wasn’t the first time he’d found himself unceremoniously thrust to the centre of some important affair. Perhaps it was time for him to take his duties less seriously, allow himself to fail – at least that way he might avoid such assignments in future.
Cassius could almost see his father’s face, as if the old man could hear his thoughts. The furrowed brow, the interrogative glare; that awful combination of disappointment and anger. Not do one’s duty? Heresy in the Corbulo household.
Cassius imagined what would be happening there, half a world away. Late morning. Father would be finishing up his work for the day, sending out a last few messages, listening to reports from his numerous employees, looking forward to an hour or two at the baths. Mother would be overseeing things at the house: doling out instructions to the gardeners, discussing dinner with the cooks. Perhaps one of Cassius’s sisters would bring some of the grandchildren over after school?
A thin arc of spray struck the deckhouse, breaking his reverie. Wiping water from his eyes, he watched Annia picking wet strands of hair off her face. She and Indavara were still looking up. Tarkel clambered on to the yard, wrapped his arms around the mast, and looked south.
‘Watch your lines!’ Asdribar told the crew, half of whom were gazing up at the lookout. So much depended on what the lad could or could not see.
Tarkel turned and yelled something, but Cassius and the others at the stern couldn’t make out a single word. Desenna was much closer. He cupped his hands and relayed the message back to them.
‘A mast! Two points west of south. Eight or nine miles away.’
‘The Isis?’ asked Asdribar.
‘He can’t tell for sure. Tall mast though.’
‘It’s probably them,’ said Asdribar. He turned round. ‘Miss?’
Annia nodded solemnly, then opened the deckhouse door and went inside.
‘South it is!’ shouted the captain. ‘Squint – hold her steady. Korinth – ready the hands to shift the yard.’
The deck-chief’s expression of grudging acceptance was mirrored by the rest of the crew.
Indavara looked at Cassius. ‘Africa?’
‘Africa.’
The more the wind blew, the more the ship rolled, and the sicker Cassius felt. Having refused Simo’s offer of lunch, he took a sip of heavily watered wine and looked at the completed list of names in his hand. Thirty-two men with cause to harbour a grudge against Augustus Marius Memor. He knew the odds were against the list proving useful but at least it was finished.
With that done, and nothing but dark ruminations on what lay ahead to occupy him, Cassius thought of Annia. Clearly he had done himself few favours two nights previously, but he’d spoken to her that morning and she’d been friendly and polite. Wondering how far relations might thaw, he finally admitted to himself that he wanted to win her over. Not that there was any chance of a long-term union; his own situation made that impossible and she was far from an ideal choice. But – putting the objectionable aspects of her personality to one side – she was spirited, bright and undeniably attractive.
There were two barriers to any kind of advance. Firstly, the girl was in mourning, which hardly lent itself to a romantic frame of mind. Then again, she would be feeling vulnerable and uncertain of the future; perhaps in need of a confident, guiding hand.
Secondly, there was Indavara. Ridiculous though the prospect of a romance between him and Annia remained, it was clear the girl was rather taken with him, though Cassius suspected she had exaggerated her interest for his benefit. Taking the pragmatic view, it didn’t seem worth driving a wedge between him and Indavara just for a girl. Regardless of how they got on, for as long as Cassius was with the Service, he wanted Indavara with him. When it came to the rough stuff, the man was a beast, pure and simple, and he offered a level of protection that simply couldn’t be acquired elsewhere. It would be a mistake to risk losing him.
Still, Cassius didn’t have anything serious in mind. He would be happy simply to draw the girl to him (after all, that was where the fun lay) and there would be something very satisfying about bending her to his will, perhaps even getting his hands on her. Indavara need never know. And if she couldn’t be tamed, so be it. Hardly the end of the world. Possessed with a sudden desire to see her, Cassius realised he had a perfect pretext for a visit literally in his hands.
Simo returned to the cabin with some towels he’d been drying in the galley. ‘Now we’re finished with the documents, are you going to work on your project, sir?’
‘Not today, Simo.’
Cassius had only done ten pages so far – he was translating a fairly obscure Greek text on military strategy into Latin. When it was finished he hoped to get it published in Rome. One of his uncles had completed three similar works and enjoyed considerable acclaim for his efforts. Such a success might also help with Cassius’s aborted legal career.
‘I think I shall go and see Miss Annia. She might recognise some of these names.’
‘Ah. Good idea, sir.’
Having passed Indavara – who was sitting on his makeshift bed doing something to an arrow – Cassius hurried up to the deckhouse. Annia let him in and, upon seeing the list, immediately sat down at Asdribar’s table to examine it. Cassius stood behind her and looked down at her breasts as they squeezed against the table. The ship pitched suddenly and he fell against the door.
‘Perhaps you should take a seat, Officer,’ Annia said without looking up.
Cassius sat down on the bed. Clara was sitting at the other table, preparing some food. Mainly out of boredom, Cassius stared at her until she finally looked up, then blew her a kiss. The maid blushed and glanced anxiously over at her mistress, but Annia hadn’t noticed. With the tiniest of smiles, Clara returned to her work.
Annia read through the list again and turned to Cassius. ‘I recognise only one name: Albanus Sebastianus.’
‘What do you remember of the case?’ Cassius asked, straightening the hem of his tunic over his knees.
‘I think it was about a year ago. My father needed to write a number of identical letters,
so he had Trogus and me make some copies for him. This Sebastianus was an army officer. He was suspected of having ties to an outlawed religious sect. I believe it was in Mauretania Tingitana.’
‘Mauretania Caesarinsis, I think you’ll find.’
Annia considered this for a moment. ‘Yes. You’re right.’
‘Sebastianus was a tribune,’ Cassius continued. ‘Had an affair with a local girl who turned out to be a priestess of this sect. I believe your father wrote personally to those in the province who knew him best. I don’t recall coming across any documentation regarding the outcome.’
‘The case went on for some time. I pressed my father to let me know what happened and he eventually relented. This Sebastianus was dismissed from the army. He would have faced stricter sanctions but he had some associate on the general staff who saw to it that no further harm – physical or financial – came to him.’
‘You recall nothing else?’
‘No.’
‘Please, miss, indulge me. Check the list one last time.’
As Annia did so, Cassius gazed at Clara again but she stubbornly refused to look at him.
‘No. Just that one,’ Annia said when she’d finished. ‘Do you think what I told you might be of any use, Officer?’
Cassius was about to ask her to use his first name but then realised he rather liked hearing her say ‘Officer’.
‘Possibly.’
‘You recalled the details of that one case from amongst that huge stack of papers?’
‘I have an orator’s memory, miss. It does come in rather useful at times.’
‘I imagine it does.’
The ship was really beginning to roll now. A mug on the table slid towards Annia. She caught it but other objects fell to the floor. Clara set about picking them up while Annia looked around for anything else that might come free.
Cassius was feeling worse by the moment but he didn’t want to pass up this opportunity. As the ship settled again, he considered asking the girl about her travels but then remembered she’d been with her father. He also doubted she would want to discuss the rest of her family, and mention of her interests had previously led to an argument. What was left?
