The little guy in the emerald-green tunic waved and came closer.
'Felix!' I only hoped I didn't sound as glad to see him as I felt. A swelled ego in that direction I could do without. 'What the hell are you doing here?'
'I followed you, naturally.' He was gasping. 'All the way from Zea.'
'You were at the boat shed?'
'Since last night.' His hand kneaded a spot just left of his liver. 'A moment...please...to catch my breath. I'm not used to running, and your friend sets quite a pace.'
'So choke, you bastard.' Nerves or not, I couldn't help grinning. Not just out of relief, either: for the first time since I'd met Felix I could be sure that what I was getting was the plain unvarnished truth. The guy was unquestionably, undeniably knackered. My grin widened. 'You spent the night at the harbour?'
He coughed and straightened. 'Yes, sir. It was most...uncomfortable. But after my colleague reported that you had paid an abortive visit to one of the trireme sheds I put two and two together and decided my personal presence was necessary.' Gasp.
Jupiter on a tightrope! Forget just one tail, it seemed we'd been heading a procession. Maybe I should've hired a trumpeter and thrown nuts to the crowds.
'You had my house staked?' I said.
'Only slightly, sir. And in your own best interests.'
'Which, oddly enough, happened to coincide exactly with yours.' Ah, well, it was done and I had to admit I was glad of it. I looked across at Tiny. He hadn't moved; hadn't so much as acknowledged Felix's presence. 'Okay, Felix, we're going for the Baker. As if you didn't know. Since you're here you can tag along if the big guy agrees. But we have a deal, remember?'
'The statue sold at open auction with the money going to the widow,' Felix said primly. I grinned again: the degree of concern for the maintenance of fundamental principles like honesty, openness and fair play that shone through every word could've powered a major political campaign. I'd have voted for the oily little fraud myself. 'Yes, of course I remember, sir. The agreement stands, naturally.'
'Fine.' I turned to Tiny. 'Hey, Tiny! This is Smaragdus's other customer and an old friend of mine. He'd like to see the statue as well. You have any objection?'
The pear head swung towards Felix. I waited, and prayed to every god in the pantheon I knew. The guy might have his faults, and despite what I'd said he wasn't exactly a friend, but at least he'd be human company.
Finally, the head nodded.
'Great.' I let out the breath I'd been holding. 'So. Let's go for it.'
We waded across to the boat
38 .
Tiny set the sail and we were off. No, I didn't throw up. Maybe it was the excitement, but I felt great. Not so Felix: forget human company, the little guy began to change colour as soon as the first wave hit us. Then we were out in the gulf proper where we hit a smacker of a wind that had him half over the side losing his breakfast in earnest. I watched benignly. That would teach the sod to tail me.
We were headed for the same stretch of coast Smaragdus had taken me to last time, but Tiny was bearing further right, closer to Eetioneia. Yeah. That fitted. The signs I'd seen on the path showed that the statue had been carried down to the beach, so Smaragdus and Tiny must have ferried it round to another cove. Sensible: sure, there would've been places nearer by where they could've taken it instead, but in the process they'd have left tracks a blind man could follow. This way it could be anywhere.
While Felix was doing his best to turn himself inside out I looked ahead; and what I saw made me wish I hadn't. We were making for the dead centre of a line of cliffs; no beaches, no inlets, and from the looks of the cliffs themselves only a mountain goat tired of life on the hoof would risk climbing them. Added to which the chain of rocks stretching a good hundred yards out from the shore would gut us before you could say Ulysses. I swallowed and glanced up at Tiny. He was holding the steering oar firm as Plato's famous helmsman.
'You sure you know what you're doing here, pal?' I said. Philosophical metaphors are okay in their place, but I'd bet one look at Tiny would've had Plato reaching for his pumice stone.
No answer: the guy might as well have been deaf. We got closer. Tiny turned a fraction out of the wind and the boat lost speed. We were coming in at a slant now, but the rocks were so close I could've reached out and picked off the clams. Hell; Baker or not, I must have been mad to agree to this. I should've made a dash for freedom back on the beach while I had the chance.
And then I saw it: a hollow at the base of the cliffs with a scrap of pebbly beach that looked just about big enough to spread a mantle over. If the mantle happened to belong to a midget. I looked back at Tiny.
'That's it?' I said. 'That's where we're going?'
He grinned and gibbered, nodding his head. When the first rock scraped the side I closed my eyes and offered up a prayer to Neptune and the anonymous god who protects pointy-skulled gorillas and non-swimming Roman smartasses...
Two minutes later, incredibly, I was still breathing air. I opened my eyes. We were past the rocks and into deep water, and Tiny was grinning like he'd performed a minor miracle. Maybe he had.
'Nice work,' I said. I meant it, and it was the understatement of the year: mad gorilla or not, the guy could handle a boat. Maybe Plato wasn't so far out after all.
We nosed into the cove. Tiny lowered the sail, beached us gently on the pebbles, and threw out the anchor-stone. Then he jumped out and waded ashore.
Felix was still slumped against the side with his eyes closed, like he'd been the whole trip. Shame. All that excitement and he'd missed it. Well, some people have all the luck.
'Hey.' I dug him in the ribs. 'Show a leg, pal. We're there.'
The eyelids didn't flicker.
'I think, sir,' he said, 'I'll just die here quietly, if you don't mind.'
'Death isn't an option.' I grinned: the bastard was human after all. 'By the way, you know your face is the exact colour of a slice of Rhaetian cheese?'
He belched. 'Corvinus, please. No references to food. Cheese especially.'
'It's the truth.' I pulled him upright and his eyes opened. Now he looked like a slice of Rhaetian cheese with two poached eggs on top. I almost felt sorry for him. Almost. 'Don't worry, you'll be okay soon.'
'You mean I can die after all?'
I glanced over at Tiny, gibbering on the beach. He looked like he was getting anxious. Uh-oh. That we didn't want. I heaved Felix to his feet and propped him on the edge of the boat.
'Right,' I said. 'Break's over, sunshine. Back to work. Just knuckle down and think of Gaius.'
'Fuck Gaius,' Felix muttered; at least that's what I thought he said but I must've misheard. The guy wasn't that human.
Well, no point in pussy-footing around here. And he had insisted on coming...
'Hold your nose,' I said; and pushed.
He went in like a sack of carrots. I'd checked, of course: there was a good three feet of water to break his fall. And a pint or so of sea water taken internally is a good cure for seasickness. So I'm told, anyway.
Besides, the bastard still owed me.
I had to hand it to Smaragdus; he'd hidden the Baker somewhere no one would think of looking in a million years. Even from this close up the place was a dead end: no obvious caves, no holes in the rock, nothing but cliff and a lot of scattered boulders. And only accessible from the sea. If you could call what we'd come through an access.
We waded ashore. At least, I waded while Felix dripped.
'You're sure this is the right place?' he said. The guy's impromptu bath seemed to have done him good once he'd coughed up half the Gulf, even if he had come up in a foul temper. 'Because if it isn't then you owe me for a new tunic. That was not necessary.'
Tart as hell. I grinned. 'Put it on expenses, chum. Gaius can afford it more than I can. And this is the place all right. You have my personal guarantee.'
Tiny was standing beside the biggest pile of rocks, waiting for us to catch up. When we did he stepped aside to
let us past, and I saw it.
Tucked away behind the boulders, and invisible until you were right on top of it, was a cave, the entrance wide as I could stretch both arms but no more than waist high.
Felix drew in a breath and let it out slowly. 'My apologies, sir,' he said. 'You can forget about the tunic.'
I nodded: I was feeling pretty overawed, too.
Tiny reached inside the cave and pulled out a lamp and strike-light. Once the wick was going he ducked down under the lintel and disappeared. I followed with Felix at my heels.
Even with the lamp and what little light there was coming through the entrance it was pretty dark. I stood up cautiously, but I needn't have worried: the ceiling was at least three feet above my head.
Then my eyes adjusted, and I saw the gold.
There wasn't much of it, but what there was was impressive as hell: gold dishes, gold figurines, even a gold tripod. I reached over and picked up one of the figurines, a Hunting Artemis complete with bow and quiver. It reminded me of a statuette I'd seen once in Argyrio's shop in the Saepta. That had been bronze, and the price still overran the tag. If this was just the scrag end of the Tolosan treasure then no wonder the two families had spent the best part of a hundred years looking for it.
'Sir?' Felix had moved past me into a darker part of the cave. I looked up. He was pointing to a bundle wrapped in an old blanket. A bundle the size and shape of a standing woman...
I unwrapped her carefully. She stood on a small pedestal, one foot pushing out from under the fringed hem of her mantle. Both her hands were extended, palm out. The right held an ear of corn so real I could count the grains, the left a flat loaf. Her hair was braided and her eyes looked into mine across six hundred years. A golden, smiling woman who stood in the lamplight and shone from the crown of her beautiful head to the toenails of her sandalled feet.
'Jupiter,' I murmured. 'Dear holy Jupiter.'
Felix was checking the inscription on the pedestal. That guy has no poetry in his soul.
'"Croesus King of Lydia to Apollo of the Delphians",' he read. '"Far- shooter, the Slayer of Pytho". Sir, my heartfelt congratulations.'
'I can understand Hermippe now,' I said. The almond-shaped eyes and enigmatic smile still held me. 'This lady is something else.'
Felix looked at me sideways. 'Worth killing for, Valerius Corvinus?' he said softly.
'No, not that. But she comes close.'
'Oh, dear. Then we had better wrap her up again, sir.' Felix reached for the blanket. 'Before either of us gets any ideas.'
I grinned and tore my eyes away. Gods, that smile...'Fair point, pal. And we'd better think about how to get her home, too. Maybe if we came round by land we could rig up a crane. Hoist her up the cliff and use a stretcher. It won't be easy, though.'
We'd forgotten about Tiny. He'd been standing to one side watching us and holding the lamp. Now he set it down, put his huge hands under the Baker's armpits and lifted. The pedestal grated against the rock floor and swung free. Jupiter, this I didn't believe! No one was that strong! Maybe old Croesus had pulled a fast one on Apollo and the statue was hollow after all.
On the other hand, remembering the cement bags and what the guy had done to Glycus I wouldn't like to place any large bets. And he must've done it before.
Felix and I looked at each other in silence.
'I think,' Felix said quietly, 'that your friend has plans of his own.'
'Yeah.' I swallowed, and watched.
The veins on Tiny's neck were standing out like ropes, but his expression didn't change. Slowly, very slowly, he carried the Baker over to the entrance and laid her down on her back with the blanket beneath her. Then he went outside and pulled her through.
Scratch the crane: it would appear that we were taking the Baker back with us. Ah, well, I wasn't going to argue with someone capable of lugging four-and-a-half-foot solid gold statues around.
'What about the rest of the stuff?' I said.
Felix was picking up the lamp. 'We leave it here for the moment, sir,' he said. 'If you agree, of course. The Baker's what is important, and now we know where the cave is there's no hurry.'
'Right.' I paused. 'How's your stomach holding out, by the way?'
That got me Felix's best glare. 'Perfectly well,' he said primly. 'Besides, I have my master's statue to consider now.'
'Is that right?' I grinned. 'Remember you said it, then, pal. It's a long rough way back.'
Felix didn't answer.
39 .
When we came out of the cave Tiny had loaded the Baker onto the boat and was waiting for us. I didn't like the way things were going here, not above half: the Alcyone was pretty small to begin with, and although Felix didn't take up much room Tiny and me together would just about fill all the available space. Also, there were these wormholes in the planking to think about. Personally I'd still have gone for the land option: left the Baker where she was, sailed round Eetioneia into the main harbour and fixed things up in town. The trouble was, Tiny was still calling the shots and, pea-brain or not, he obviously liked doing things his own way. Which meant going back the way we'd come....
Rowing back the way we'd come, because this time the wind was against us. That was one difficulty I hadn't even considered, obvious though it was. And it was obvious, even to a non-sailor like me. I looked at Felix.
'How are you with an oar?' I said.
'I would imagine about as handy as you are, sir.' The guy sounded as cheerful as I felt.
'That bad, eh?' Hell. Purple-stripers didn't row; it was written into the Law of the Twelve Tables. Well, there was nothing else for it, and we needed Tiny at the steering oar. 'Okay. So let's get it over with.
We waded out and pulled ourselves aboard. Tiny sat impassively in the stern as I picked up the oars.
'You want left or right?' I said to Felix.
'Your choice.' I could hear the guy's teeth gritting. 'Frankly, I don't think it matters much.'
'Yeah. Okay. I'll take the left.' I picked up the oar and pushed it through the leather strap. 'Just close your eyes and think of Gaius.'
Mumble, mumble, curse, curse. I grinned despite myself. They say travel broadens the mind. True. I was finding out a lot about Felix this trip.
We lifted the anchor stone and shoved off. Forget your gentlemanly paddle on Lake Como while the reeds whisper in the scented breeze; this was hard work, and as much fun as an abscess. Dangerous, too: Felix hadn't been kidding, and he caught more crabs than I did which meant more often than not we were drifting side on at right angles to where we wanted to go or lurching about like a one-legged duck with a hangover. Neptune – or maybe Poseidon, considering where we were – knew how we made it through the rocks, but it was more by good luck than good judgment. Even Tiny was sweating.
With the Baker aboard the Alcyone moved like a pregnant heifer. What felt like hours passed before I saw the break in the shoreline over to our left. Enough was enough. I stopped rowing.
'Hey, pal,' I said to Tiny. 'That's the harbour mouth over there. You want to call it a day and turn left?'
Beside me Felix lifted his head. If he'd been knackered before he was completely on his uppers now. Well, at least neither of us had been sick. We didn't have the energy.
'I think...sir,' he gasped, 'that the wind...is shifting.'
He was right: it'd swung from head-on to landwards, and it was coming in gusts. 'Hey, great!' I said. 'Maybe we can –’
Which was when I saw the clouds. Big fat black ones, rolling up the Gulf towards us and trailing a curtain of grey beneath them like a shroud. Something cold touched my spine.
'Oh, shit!' I murmured. 'Oh, holy Jupiter! Tiny...'
He'd seen them too, obviously. He put the steering oar over and the stem of the boat edged sluggishly towards the land, following the wind.
Felix picked up his oar again. 'Sir...we need more...way. Perhaps you could...help, please?'
'Uh, yeah. Yeah, sure.' I might be no seaman, but I saw the problem
. We needed to turn far enough round to be able to use the sail; that way we might make the safety of the harbour before the storm hit. The problem was, with the Baker aboard we were too low in the water, and if we turned too suddenly we ran the risk of being swamped. So the turn had to be gradual: a wide circle that would finally bring our nose to the harbour mouth and put the wind square behind us. That would take time we didn't have; which meant, of course, that we had to increase our forward speed.
We almost made it. Almost. Felix and I rowed like madmen while Tiny worked the oar. Jupiter knew how long it took, and how close the storm was, but finally I could see the harbour entrance straight ahead and the wind was at the nape of my neck. Tiny got up to set the sail...
Which was when the wave came. It came from nowhere and slammed into us broadside on like a kick from a mule, canting the Alcyone sideways and flooding her. Tiny made a grab for the mast and went arse over tip as the Baker shifted and slid beneath him, smashing through the wormed planking like a battering-ram. Sky and sea changed places, and suddenly I was trying to breathe air that wasn't there any more. I had one glimpse of the golden woman sinking beneath me, blanket flapping and both hands held out towards me before something slammed into the back of my head and all the lights in the world went out.
I woke up stretched half way across a rock, vomiting and with a splitting headache. Some evil-minded sod was digging the heels of his hands into my back just above the kidneys. I retched, bringing up what felt like another straight pint of Greek seawater...
'That's it, sir. Go ahead, better out than in.' Squeeze. Retch. 'You'll be all right shortly.'
Oh, Jupiter! Oh, Poseidon! 'Felix, you ham-fisted, over-cheerful bastard..!'
'Just think of it as a permanent cure for sea sickness.'
I retched again. This time I only managed a dribble. Then the coughing started.
Never cough ribs-down on a boulder. I turned over and sat back to do it in comfort. Relative comfort.
'What happened?' I said when I'd finished.
The Lydian Baker (Marcus Corvinus Book 4) Page 25
