Agent of Rome: The Far Shore

by Brown, Nick

  ‘Sir,’ said Simo. ‘I’d like to get Indavara down below. I must stop this bleeding.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Cassius. ‘Go ahead.’

  He helped them as far as the hatch and was about to follow, but then glanced back at Noster. The veteran was still gazing at the shore.

  ‘I’ll be down in a moment.’

  ‘Corbulo, did you come to the harbour last night?’ Asdribar asked as he passed him.

  ‘No. We were … delayed.’

  ‘It was too dangerous. We had to wait at anchor.’

  ‘I’m just glad you stayed,’ replied Cassius.

  ‘Your man Simo there can be very persuasive. Young Clara too. What happened? You were supposed to be here this time yesterday.’

  A single day. To Cassius it seemed more like a week. The hut, the pit, the battle, the gorge, the flight through Darnis. He didn’t know where to start.

  Asdribar put a hand on his shoulder. ‘Perhaps you’ll tell me when you’re ready.’

  Cassius went and stood by Noster, who was looking beyond the leaping, cheering Maseene towards the beach by the warehouses; towards where Eborius lay.

  ‘I’m sorry we had to leave him,’ said Cassius.

  ‘He was a fine officer,’ said Noster.

  ‘And a fine man,’ replied Cassius. ‘Finer than he knew.’

  XXXV

  The Fortuna Redux slipped gently into the cove under a sky streaked with orange and red. Asdribar himself was at the helm and – with just the foresail flying – he guided his ship to a tranquil spot sheltered by a promontory. Once Desenna and Korinth had the sail down, old Squint dropped the anchor from the bow. As the chain rattled through the block, Asdribar left Tarkel to tie off the tillers and made his way forward. Desenna and Korinth unshackled the foresail then bagged it up. Dismissed by the captain, they and the lad went below.

  As the already slight wind died and the light faded, Asdribar and Squint stood in silence, watching the ship settle back on the anchor chain. With the Fortuna’s bow veering gently from side to side, Asdribar took a flask of wine from his tunic and the two sailors shared a drink. The only sign of life on the barren shore was a pair of white storks perched on a rock, watching the ship.

  Eventually, the bow stopped moving. Asdribar tested the anchor chain with his boot; it was taut and still. Not wanting to alert anyone onshore to their presence, he’d already decided that the ship’s lanterns would remain unlit. The captain took a final look around the cove, then glanced at Squint. The veteran nodded and the two of them made their away towards the hatch.

  ‘Ow! Gods, Simo, you’re just making it worse.’

  Cassius pushed the Gaul away and wiped tears of pain from his eyes.

  ‘I am sorry, sir. It really requires some specialist attention.’

  ‘That bloody animal Carnifex. Knowing my luck I’ll end up looking like some backstreet brawler. My nose was perfect. Perfect! People used to make comments. More wine, Simo.’

  ‘The jug is empty, sir. I shall have to—’

  ‘Ah, forget it. I shall take a walk instead.’

  ‘I have the last of your clean tunics here, sir.’

  Cassius let Simo dress him. Though he’d slept solidly through most of the afternoon, and knew he should have felt profound relief to have escaped Darnis alive, there was no sense of euphoria, only an unsettling disquiet.

  As Simo buckled his belt, Cassius remembered what he’d pledged to do before the end of the day. ‘Simo, Captain Asdribar told me about your efforts to ensure he waited for our return.’

  ‘My prayers were answered, sir.’

  Cassius didn’t have the heart to take issue with him on that one.

  ‘Perhaps. In any case, I thank you. There are some servants who might be glad to be rid of their master, especially one who berates them for simply doing their best. I am … fortunate to have you by my side.’

  Simo straightened Cassius’s tunic and gave a slight bow. ‘Thank you, sir.’

  ‘A promise – if we ever make it back to Antioch, you can take all that leave I owe you in one go. A week off – how does that sound?’

  Simo seemed barely able to comprehend such a concept. ‘Thank you, Master Cassius.’

  ‘Not at all.’

  Cassius walked along the passageway to Korinth’s room. To everyone’s surprise, the deck-chief had offered his bed to Indavara. Cassius knocked on the door.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You might want to try something more polite,’ Cassius said as he entered. Indavara was sitting up on the bed. Looking at the state of him, Cassius immediately felt embarrassed by his earlier bleating and hoped Indavara hadn’t heard.

  The bodyguard’s right leg was bandaged from ankle to knee and his toes were blotched with purple bruises. In order to cover both the gash on his brow and the more serious wound to the back of his skull, Simo had wrapped up almost his entire head, so only a few tufts of Indavara’s thick black hair were visible. His left arm appeared largely unscathed – apart from a few scrapes and welts – but lay limply by his side, his hand at rest on the bed.

  ‘I still can’t believe you relocated that yourself,’ said Cassius.

  Despite Simo’s protests, Indavara had decided to knock his shoulder back into place by smashing it against the Fortuna’s mast. It had taken three attempts.

  ‘I believe Clara almost fainted,’ added Cassius.

  ‘It’s not so bad. I’ve done it a couple of times before. Once during a fight actually.’

  Shaking his head in disbelief, Cassius sat down on the end of the bed.

  ‘This is worse,’ said Indavara, pointing at his head. ‘Can’t lean back on it, can’t lie down.’

  He looked at Cassius’s nose. ‘You want me to re-break that for you? I’ve seen it done. Might set straighter.’

  ‘Tempting though that sounds, I think I’ll decline.’

  ‘Do you know how Annia is?’

  ‘No. I don’t believe she’s left the deckhouse since we came aboard.’

  Cassius gazed idly down at the numerous grazes on his hands, largely a result of rolling around on the concrete breakwater. ‘I wonder how all this will affect her – on top of losing her father. I suppose we should just be glad we got her out.’

  ‘With a bit of help,’ said Indavara.

  ‘I’ll start on my report tomorrow. I don’t know what weight my opinion will hold, but I’ll be recommending the highest posthumous honour for Eborius. What he did should be acknowledged. Remembered. What happened to him – on the beach?’

  ‘I didn’t see all of it. But he fought bravely. And if he hadn’t kept Carnifex occupied, I’d never even have got back on my feet.’

  ‘Only the gods know how you did. Simo said the skin at the back of your head was cut almost to the bone. Twenty stitches, wasn’t it?’

  Indavara nodded but then ground his teeth together. ‘I have to remember to stop doing that.’

  ‘Well if my socks are anything to go by, I’m sure Simo did an excellent job with the needle and thread.’

  After attending to the wound, the Gaul had confided to Cassius that he’d seen an older, similarly sizeable scar hidden under the bodyguard’s hair. Cassius had elected not to discuss Indavara’s confession with Simo but he wondered, was this the injury that had caused his memory loss – left him with a gaping void instead of a past?

  Cassius thought it unlikely there would be a better chance to discuss the matter. ‘Indavara, listen—’

  A quiet knock on the door.

  ‘Who’s there?’ asked Indavara, with a valiant attempt at politeness.

  ‘It’s Clara, sir.’

  Cassius got up and opened the door. He hadn’t spoken to the girl yet and was pleased to see her blush as she returned his smile. It took her a few moments to remember why she was there.

  ‘Sir, Miss Annia can’t really move because of her feet, but she’d like to see you both – whenever it’s convenient for you.’

  ‘Now?’ suggested Ind
avara keenly.

  ‘Why not,’ said Cassius, realising his chance had gone. ‘Clara, tell your mistress we’ll be there presently.’

  With a little bow, the maid hurried away.

  Indavara manoeuvred himself to the side of the bed using only his left leg and right arm.

  ‘Sure you should be moving around?’

  ‘I’m fine.’

  Cassius put out his hand but Indavara got to his feet unaided.

  ‘You go ahead.’

  Cassius made his way along the passageway then turned, watching as Indavara struggled through the doorway. Though Simo felt sure there was no break, Cassius had seen the condition of the right leg before the Gaul had applied ointment and bandaged it. The flesh on the shin seemed to have been almost flayed from the bone; such was the price Indavara had paid to bring the old centurion down.

  Having barely noticed earlier, Cassius now realised the Fortuna’s hold had been transformed. The timber and twig bales had disappeared and every available space was occupied by the townspeople. Lanterns hanging from the roof cast an opaque glow over the morass of people and baggage. A few sat or lay alone but most were gathered in small groups. One woman was tearing up a loaf and placing equal-sized hunks of bread on three plates already covered with olives and dried sausage. Three children looked on expectantly.

  Asdribar appeared from the gloom, shaking his head at the state of his beloved ship. Upon reaching the steps, he turned and spied something at the other end of the hold. ‘I said no lamps! Just the lanterns. Whoever lit that better put it out now or I’ll come back up there and throw you over the side!’

  One of the children awaiting her dinner – a girl of no more than five – looked up at the captain and promptly burst into tears. Exasperated, Asdribar started towards the galley but then stopped and walked back to the little girl. He squatted down in front of her and smiled.

  ‘Sorry about that, love. We sailors like things done a certain way.’

  The girl squeezed up close to her mother.

  ‘Tell you what,’ said the Carthaginian. ‘Why don’t you sew my mouth up and then I won’t be able to make a sound?’

  Asdribar produced an imaginary needle and threaded it. ‘Here you are. Careful now.’

  With a reluctant smile, the little girl leant towards him and opened her palm.

  Asdribar pretended to drop it. ‘Oh. No, there it is.’

  As the girl played along, Indavara caught up with Cassius and looked on.

  Pouting, Asdribar pointed at his mouth. While the girl pretended to sew it up, he pulled all manner of faces, drawing laughs from all three children.

  Cassius glanced at the other townspeople nearby. They were ignoring Asdribar’s antics and seemed far more interested in Indavara. Word had spread perhaps: this was the man who had beaten Carnifex.

  Asdribar took a piece of bread, pretended he couldn’t get it in his mouth, then adopted a sad expression worthy of a pantomime performer.

  With the little girl now chortling, he stood up and went on his way, looking rather sheepish when he realised Cassius and Indavara had been watching.

  ‘I think you might have missed your vocation, Captain,’ said Cassius. ‘Perhaps it’s time to give up the freight trade and convert the Fortuna into a passenger ship.’

  ‘Not for all the silk in the East. Thank the gods this is to be a short trip.’

  ‘Will we make Apollonia by nightfall tomorrow?’

  Asdribar looked back at the crowded hold. ‘Even if I have to take up an oar myself. By the way, I’ve organised another gathering in the deckhouse this evening – before we all go our separate ways.’

  ‘You won’t be taking Annia and Clara back to Rhodes?’

  ‘I’m afraid you shall all have to make your own way home. You may not listen to the voices of the gods, Officer, but I do – and I know when I’m pushing my luck. Storms, rogue centurions, rampaging tribesmen …’

  ‘Think of the money, Captain.’

  ‘Oh I do,’ said Asdribar with a smile. ‘I do. And I’ll need plenty of it to keep the crew quiet when I tell them we’re wintering in Apollonia. See you later?’

  ‘Of course.’

  With that, the captain continued on his way.

  Just as Cassius and Indavara reached the steps, Noster hobbled out of the hold. He was with a plain-looking woman made rather more attractive by her voluminous, curly brown hair.

  ‘Sir, this is my wife. Octavia, this is Officer Corbulo, and that’s Indavara.’

  ‘A pleasure,’ said Cassius. ‘How’s the knee, Noster?’

  ‘It’ll be all right, sir.’

  Cassius turned to his wife. ‘I’m glad you were able to get out of the town safely.’

  ‘Octavia’s been telling me we should leave for years,’ said Noster. ‘I suppose I should have listened. What do you think will happen to Darnis, sir?’

  ‘I’ve no idea. I shall certainly be meeting the provincial governor in Cyrene. Hopefully something can be done.’

  ‘I wonder if we shouldn’t just leave it to the Maseene, sir. They were there before us, after all.’

  ‘Right,’ said Indavara quietly.

  ‘Well, we can’t really have that,’ said Cassius, ‘but I take your point. Misrule can be as bad as anarchy on occasion, but order must be restored. There might be a way forward, with a half-decent governor and a garrison of men like yourself. Would you like me to put your name forward?’

  Noster’s wife tightened her grip on his arm. The veteran looked at her and smiled. ‘No, thank you, sir. My twenty-five years were up a few months ago. I was really only staying on for Centurion Eborius. Hopefully they’ll give us a nice plot of land somewhere quiet.’

  ‘Fair enough. You deserve nothing less. By the way, there’s to be a get-together up in the deckhouse later. I’m sure the captain would be happy for you to join us.’

  ‘Thank you, sir. We’ll see you there.’

  They found Annia lying in bed, covered by no less than three blankets. Cassius helped Clara bring over two chairs and though the maid betrayed nothing with her expression, she touched his arm when the other two weren’t looking.

  They sat down. Cassius was surprised – and felt strangely proud – when Indavara initiated the conversation.

  ‘How are you, miss?’

  ‘Better, thank you. Clara has been wonderful.’

  The maid gave yet another of her neat little bows.

  ‘And you two?’

  Though the question was directed at both of them, Annia was gazing at Indavara. Aside from all the bandages, even the exposed areas of his dark skin were heavily marked; new damage upon old.

  ‘Nothing a bit of rest and some hot food won’t fix, miss.’

  Cassius couldn’t help feeling slightly jealous of the look Annia gave the bodyguard then.

  She sat up higher in the bed. ‘Officer Corbulo, having had some time to think, I can understand why you didn’t disclose everything to me before. But I would ask that you do so now.’

  ‘Gladly.’

  Cassius described how the investigation had unfolded from the sighting of Dio onwards. Relating the events at the quarry, he spared Annia the worst of Carnifex’s excesses, though he felt he had to tell her that the conspirators had been shown the head as proof of the assassin’s work. Strangely, it wasn’t this that produced the most marked reaction in the girl. That came when Cassius reached the end of his account, explaining how they’d captured Carnifex and taken him to the hut.

  Annia looked away and covered her hand with her mouth. It took the attentions of Clara and a little wine before she could recover herself enough to speak. Cassius and Indavara exchanged glances and looked to the door but Annia motioned for them to stay. She took a handkerchief from Clara and wiped her eyes.

  ‘How different things might have been had I stayed on the ship as you had instructed. Centurion Eborius and those other soldiers …’

  Cassius knew a little about guilt; about how it could so easily flou
rish if it wasn’t nipped in the bud.

  ‘Miss, Eborius and his men made their choices a long time ago. When it would have been far easier to go along with Carnifex, they chose to stand up to him. Whatever our involvement, such a confrontation was inevitable.’

  Cassius wasn’t certain of that, but he was certain Annia needed to hear it. It was right that she should regret her actions, but he couldn’t allow the young woman to shoulder such a burden.

  ‘Circumstances and the actions of others certainly played their part,’ he continued, ‘but, ultimately, one man is to blame for all the suffering we have witnessed. But thanks to Indavara here, Darnis, Rome and the rest of the world are rid of him.’

  Annia dabbed at her eyes with the handkerchief. ‘Hearing of some of the things my father dealt with, I certainly didn’t consider myself an innocent. But I confess I had never expected to see such cruelty, such reckless hate. How could the gods allow it? Allow him?’

  ‘I don’t know, miss,’ said Cassius.

  ‘I wonder if I shall ever be able to forget that man. That monster.’

  Cassius said nothing; he had already spent a considerable amount of time pondering the same question.

  ‘Forget him, miss,’ said Indavara flatly. ‘Nothing but a bad man who got what was coming to him. Don’t trouble yourself. He’s not worth it.’

  Annia seemed to take comfort from Indavara’s words; they gave Cassius pause for thought too.

  ‘Clara, bring it over now,’ Annia said after a while.

  The maid picked up a hardwood box and gave it to her mistress.

  Annia opened it, took out two small silver discs and placed them on the bed.

  ‘I didn’t see my father until I was four years old. He was a centurion then, away fighting with the legions in the East. He gave these to me upon his return, a reward, he said, for me being so brave – with him absent and my mother ailing. As a girl I thought nothing of where they had come from but when I was older I realised they were medals. For valour. I once asked him why he hadn’t given them to his men. A tribune had distributed two each to every centurion after a great battle, asking that they select the men most deserving to receive them. Of my father’s century, only twenty-five had survived. But he said every last one of them deserved it, so he kept them.’