Murder In-Absentia

by Assaph Mehr

  I had been to Heraclion in the past, and so at first thought to continue reading the scrolls. The stuffy inn I found lodging in, however, was not conducive to serious study. I soon decided to go on a walk of the city, revisit its temples and climb the hill overlooking the bay.

  For those who have not visited Heraclion before, the town is situated on the slopes of a steep hill on the eastern side of the mouth of the Bay of Euxis. The town prides itself on the beauty of the white walls and red-tiled roofs of its houses, kept clean by city ordinance. The bay has long been the source of the best oysters and shellfish known to man. The booming fishing industry together with the intersection of trade routes from Egretia to Hellica has made Heraclion a busy port.

  Standing at the top of the Acroheraclios in the middle of the city, I looked out over the bay with its many small boats on the water and the estates of the rich lining its shores. I could see large barges plying the waters in chains, acting as ferries between Heraclion and the village on the western side of the bay. Taking the overland route around the bay meant a several days’ journey of over two hundred miles, while crossing on the ferry was a tenth of that distance and could be covered in a few short hours by the heavy barges.

  Around two centuries ago, when trade between Egretia and Hellica first boomed, these ferries began to be powered by incantatores. Conflicting operators who charged their incantatores to raise great winds and waves soon left the entry to the bay a mess of turbulent waters that were a danger to all sea craft. A particularly nasty collision that caused the death of a minor potentate from Mazaca Carina followed by a loud public outcry, and rules were set — and enforced — by both sides of the bay. These days the use of magia elementorum to speed up boats around the bay was strictly illegal, with heavy fines imposed on offenders.

  Having enjoyed the sea air and the stretching of my legs, I returned to my inn at sundown. My luck from this morning seemed to have held, as the rather dilapidated room I slept in was surprisingly free of fleas and bedbugs.

  * * *

  We set sail early the next morning, ten days before the Kalends of Maius. After the customary sacrifice and prayers to Neptunus for a safe voyage, the captain set course to the Pillatic Isles where we would stop for the pearl divers. We would then continue amongst the small isle chains of the Mare Saepiae to Kebros. On first consideration this might have appeared like a detour, however the presence of an incantator, now recovered and feeling much better, meant that it would still be faster than taking a regular ship to Parelae or even all the way to Egretia, before I could find a good ship to Kebros. And, of course, I was not guaranteed to find anything that didn’t rely on sails or slaves, which would have been much slower.

  From Heraclion to the Pillatic Isles is a distance of some two hundred miles. The incantator, whose name I learnt was Aulus Didius Rufus, was a young man, red haired and freckled, and quite eager to practice his arts. He was very keen to talk, a naturally curious and energetic fellow, cooped up on a ship for days on end, with naught but a grizzled captain and the crew to talk with. Over the two days it took us to get to our destination — the captain kept the exact location a secret — we shared meals and discussed worldly affairs. I had to keep a close watch on my words and the scrolls I had brought with me. I could not risk Didius Rufus or the captain finding out about the nature of my business for Corpio. Necromancy is a dangerous taboo, and I did not wish to swim back to Egretia.

  In between, I continued to study the scrolls I took with me. I doubted very much I would be able to keep the scroll describing the Rite of Pelegrinus or any of the others when I reached Egretia. While some knowledge about such rites existed in the vaults on the Collegium Incantatorum, most copies with detailed instructions like those I found in Ephemezica had long since been destroyed. The scrolls were the property of Sosius, and if they managed to survive discovery they would be his to dispose of. I knew him well enough not to think he will surrender the ones containing forbidden subjects to the Collegium of his own free will, and I suspected he would try to sell them for an exorbitant price. I took the precious time I had with these scrolls to study as much as I could.

  For the uninitiated, it is worth noting that our Collegium Incantatorum has been established almost five hundred years ago, some decades after our people made Egretia our permanent settlement. The uniqueness of the Collegium Incantatorum, and indeed of the other collegia, lies in a level-headed approach to organisation and knowledge. We Quirites always had a practical bent. Other nations had kings to rule them and court intrigues and power struggles; their accumulated knowledge was closely guarded. Our people developed the system whereby the collegia were open to anyone — or anyone with money at least. In the beginning the major collegia were an administrative organisations, controlling the smaller associations and sodalities. Over time they have also accumulated knowledge, and became the source of the best trained men in their respective fields. Quick to capitalise on it, the collegia established a cursus honorum of their own, to match the course of offices for those in public careers.

  Men who have proven themselves by generating wealth and social distinction, could apply for a cadetship within the Collegium of their choice. With the years, it became obvious that training early in life was more beneficial, and more often those whose family managed to amass wealth were enrolled in the collegia to learn their trade as soon as they formally became adults.

  That, of course, had quickly become a self-perpetuating oligarchy. Nominally our city was a res publica — a thing of the people, a republic — but everyone with eyes in their head knew that the rich mattered more. The strength of the collegia was just another way for the rich to retain their power. Even so, the effectiveness and relative openness of our teaching methods has given us highly trained soldiers, merchants and enchanters. Not every footslogger of a legionary or small shop owner was a graduate, of course. The cadets of the collegia came from the rich, and with their training and family connections had become a most effective ruling class. These days it became an the favourite path for those seeking public office, and one who did not graduate and generated a name for himself faced slim odds of joining the senate.

  But I digress. Our methods were not the only methods. Other people had armies, merchants and enchanters, yet with different government, different weapons and military training regimes, different ships and naval tactics. And just as much, not everyone had subscribed to our taxonomy of the five branches and six elements of enchantments. Other philosophies prescribed a different division of the natural world.

  All of which had made my reading of the scrolls a laborious process. While I never finished my studies and apprenticeship at the Collegium, the basic lessons in the history, terminology, hieroglyphics and foreign philosophies of enchantment are a part of the curriculum one has to complete before moving to the practicalities. Our Egretian standard training gave us huge benefits in the preservation and dissemination of knowledge, though with so many foreign sources we students had to learn the alien ways of thinking. Still, that was a decade and a half ago.

  Since embarking with Philomenos from Ephemezica, I sat with the scrolls and read, and read, and read until my eyes felt like bleeding and my head exploding. I hoped that the knowledge I was gaining would prove beneficial, even beyond my current investigation.

  * * *

  On the third day we reached the Pillatic archipelago. Between islands not much bigger than spires of rocks jutting out of the waves like fingers of submerged giants, I had the chance to witness the retrieval for pearls. First the divers, three Shangarii and two Capilanii, assembled at the rear of the boat. I now understood the odd shape of the ship, with its square, untapered stern. This served as the diving platform for them, and with rope ladders they could easily climb back in.

  The divers were nude, carrying only a pouch tied to their left wrist with a string, and a curiously shaped thick dagger tied to their right. Aulus Didius walked amongst them, drawing a pattern dedicated to Neptunus on each with a spe
cial pigment and letting each drink a draft of something foul smelling from a wineskin. The divers seemed familiar with the process, and kept chattering between themselves as Didius Rufus was performing his enchantments.

  When Rufus finished, Margaritus gave a sign and the five walked to the low rail at the end of the ship, climbed on it, and one by one jumped with effortless grace into the waves. As we watched the water swallow their lithe bodies, Margaritus produced a small pouch of salted and baked sunflower kernels, and began to expertly split them between his teeth to get at the seed inside, spitting the empty husks into the water.

  As we stood there, he and Rufus explained the process to me. The divers would swim down to the base of the rocks, where the oysters who produce the pearls like to make their home. They would search around until they found one, and then pry its hard lips apart with the steel dagger. Some of the oysters could get quite large, enough to snap off a finger of a careless diver.

  As Margaritus was talking we saw occasionally the head of one of the divers pop to the surface, take a few deep breaths while floating on his back, and then dive down again.

  The pearl producing oyster are a rare kind. Of those oysters that do, not all produced them all the time, as a pearl took years to form. Of the pearls that did form, most were not smooth but had wrinkles, like small uneven rocks. A large, smooth and round pearl, with a perfect creamy sheen was a rare thing indeed, and would fetch a commensurate price.

  After a long while, the divers started coming back to the ship. The enchantment and brew that Didius Rufus had placed on them was wearing off, and they could no longer hold their breaths quite as long or swim down quite so well. They all climbed wearily up to the boat, looking tired and disappointed as no pearls were found.

  Margaritus put away his little bag of seeds and cursed his crew into activity. We set sail to another region of the isles. The locations of the best diving grounds for pearls were a closely guarded secret. I had no doubt the only reason I was allowed to stay on deck, or be aboard at all for that matter, was the diplomatic courier’s letter with Corpio’s own seal.

  This time the crew sailed the ship by natural wind alone, and mostly used oars to assist and navigate carefully between the isles, the jutting rocks, and the sandy shoals. This served the dual purpose of allowing for very delicate navigation and of letting Rufus rest after performing the enchantments on the divers before he would need to repeat them. While we nibbled on hard bread and dried fish, the divers had only drunk fresh water, and elected not to eat anything between dives.

  By now we also attracted a flock of seagulls screeching around us, waiting for scraps. We reached another spot, this time in a sheltered cove off a rocky island covered with grasses and low, scrubby bushes. We cast anchor and the same ritual happened again — the divers had the pattern around their necks renewed by Rufus and took another draft of the concoction in his wineskin. Then one by one they climbed the rail and jumped in a gleaming arc into the water.

  This time they had more success. Within minutes one of the divers resurfaced and waved and hooted excitedly. He swam back to the boat, climbed aboard and extracted a pearl from the pouch on his left wrist. The pearl was a thing of beauty. Not a perfect sphere, but a large, smooth rock with dimples, it had a clear and creamy colour to it that glistened in the sunlight. Didius Rufus was visibly excited, and even the gruff and grizzled Margaritas was impressed. Such a pearl would easily fetch a talent of silver just by itself.

  As the day progressed the divers came back with more pearls. The excitement of the captain grew in proportion to the small mound of shiny orbs in the palm of his hand. When late in the afternoon a diver returned with a mid-sized, perfectly round black pearl that was worth more than the ship and all its crew, he was so excited he even offered me to have a go at Aulus Didius’ charms and join the divers to see for myself the underwater wonders. While this was no doubt an experience of a lifetime, I respectfully declined. I knew how to swim of course, from my short career in the legions, and I had witnessed the efficacy of Rufus’ charms. But as exciting as the idea was, the idea of willingly holding my breath and submerging into the deep realm of Neptunus was an uncomfortable one. And in the back of my mind the memories of another drowned body kept nagging, and even the fresh sea air and lustrous pearls could not completely dispel them.

  That night there was a big celebration on board the ship, for the haul was superbly profitable. Aulus retired early, exhausted from the strain of incantations, while Margaritus, drunk with the success of the day as well as wine, was singing loudly. The captain had planned on staying longer at the rich pearl grounds, however I managed to make him promise me that the day after tomorrow we would set sail directly to Kebros. Everyone slept well that night, after a generous meal accompanied by good wine.

  And that is why no alarm was raised until the pirates were almost upon us.

  Chapter XII

  I woke up to urgent yells from heavy slumber. Not bothering with clothes, I grabbed my dagger and ran outside to the deck. A ship larger than ours was heading straight at us under power of oars. Their crew were silent, no drums to keep pace and no shouts. That they were pirates was evident from the vessel itself. A fast and decked bireme, its prow painted with large blue eyes, slightly slanted to give a menacing look as they stared at us. Its sail was folded and the mast down, the pirates were ready for battle and boarding. A row of men stood at the railing, armed and ready with ropes and planks.

  The pirate ship was perhaps three hundred paces from us, and by their angle and equipment I knew that they did not intend to ram us, but rather angle next to us and board us. Piracy does not make profit by sinking treasures — these come from the robbery of goods, selling the crew to slavery and holding any notable passengers for ransom.

  Our crew was frantic, everybody suddenly awake after last night’s celebrations. Margaritus was yelling orders, the sailors were hoisting the anchor and going to the oars. Aulus Didius looked particularly dishevelled, not yet recovered from yesterday’s enchantments, and seemed unable to focus on the events storming around him.

  With two hundred paced between our ships and us barely moving, it was becoming obvious that they would gain on us and that we would have to fight if we wanted to escape capture. Margaritus had broken out the weapons stores, and the crew and divers each grabbed a tall oval shield and a short gladius, and braced on the side facing the pirate ship. I picked up a shield and grabbed the handle inside the shield’s boss with my left hand, though I elected to remain armed only with my trusty dagger.

  Margaritus yelled at the remaining crew to put up the sail with the hope that Didius Rufus could conjure sufficient winds, as the oarsmen armed themselves instead to prepare for boarding. I stared out across the dark waters watching the moonlit vessel closing in on us rapidly. At this distance I could make out the individual faces of the pirates and the murderous intent written on them. I wondered what mess I had gotten myself into and whether I would live to see the morning.

  With fifty paces to go, the pirates banked oars, grabbed ready bows and let a volley go. All of us in the front lines raised our shields and managed to absorb most of the volley. Only two of our men were hit, though from the quick look I cast in their direction the wounds seemed slight. Our ship did not have a means to return fire — it was not a navy vessel, and was designed for the specific operation of the divers. It relied on speed generated by its resident incantator, who unfortunately seemed in a state of a green recruit’s battle shock. The lack of a proper night guard could only be blamed on Margaritus.

  Thirty pace to go, and another volley of arrows. This time one man fell down, when an arrow that ricocheted from a shield lodged itself in his neck. The deck became slick with the blood spurting from his wound. Margaritus was shaking Didius Rufus by his shoulders, yelling in his face to get the wind up.

  Ten paces, and the pirates cast ropes with hooks onto our rails, dragging us closer. We dislodged the hooks and struck at the ropes, but within the spac
e of a deep breath the pirate ship bumped into ours, shaking the deck under our feet and screeching like racing chariots colliding.

  The pirates were upon us. With wild cries they jumped from their ship onto our deck, swinging swords, axes, hooks and clubs. I braced my shield, and as the pirate who targeted me tried to land his curved sword in a neat arc from above straight on my head I took a step back, causing him to miss his mark and forcing him to stumble as he landed, and immediately with my full weight behind the shield I jumped and slammed into him, forcing him backwards and the boss of the shield knocking the wind from his lungs, then with his back against the ship’s rail he tried to raise his sword to protect himself, but I knocked it aside with my shield and plunged my knife deep into his chest. His eyes widened and a gurgling, rattling sound came from his throat as he lost balance and fell overboard, splashing into the waters in the space between our ships.

  What followed was a mad free-for-all battle. The pirates were ferocious, the deck was slick with blood, the air heavy with the din of fighting, the shouts of enemies colliding and the cries of the wounded.

  The battle seemed to stall for a while, for although the pirates were more numerous, Corpio’s men were better armed and trained. Normally the pirates would have tried to board and capture the ship, relying on their terrifying reputation and surprise attacks for a minimal struggle. They probably did not expect an organised resistance like ours. However once committed they could not stop.

  As we parried and stabbed, clashed our shields against their swords and ebbed and flowed around on the deck, I saw Aulus Didius finally getting ready. He was standing at the back of the ship next to the far rail, some ten paces from where I was busy with another pirate. His head was bowed as he raised his arms wide to the sides, palms open as if about to hug a loved one. His tunic was buffeted by a breeze we did not yet feel and his red hair started to drift up around his head, giving him a fiery halo. I could feel the crackling in the air and on my skin from where I was standing.