by Nick Brown
‘They are helping.’ Tolmai pointed at the shore, where a group had assembled. Two men with a line were entering the water upstream but they had half the river to cross.
‘We’re closer.’
‘I’ll not risk the ship – or my clients’ cargo.’
Cassius pointed over the stern. ‘Your tender then?’
‘You need four oarsmen for that.’
Cassius kicked a pail out of his way and rushed over to where the captain stood. ‘Then give me them!’
‘There’s no wind. I need my crew.’
Below, the sailors were jabbering to one another. Marit came up the steps, closely followed by Talitha.
‘Tolmai,’ said the wife.
‘Please, father,’ added his daughter.
Cassius said, ‘Just drop me upstream, I’ll do the rest.’
After a long sigh, the captain ordered the oarsmen to pull and shifted the tiller.
‘I’ll need a line,’ added Cassius.
Talitha opened a locker and took out a long coil of rope. Cassius placed it over his head and put his arm through so it wouldn’t impede him. He trotted back along the side deck.
‘Simo.’
The attendant had already removed his sandals and belt. Cassius was barefoot but also took off his belt, leaving him clad only in a light tunic. As the Adva spun around, they climbed over the yard – which was resting on the deck – and hurried along the left side of the galley until they were behind the rearward oar.
‘Sir, look.’
The man was flailing around in the water, trying to grab the closest rock.
‘Gods.’
Now that the ship was traversing the river, Cassius could see the true strength of the current. For every twenty feet forward, the vessel shifted ten to the side. Even though Tolmai had kept his precious craft well upstream, the island – and the rocks – were getting closer very quickly.
‘Now!’ shouted the captain.
‘Don’t waste your strength swimming,’ Cassius told Simo. ‘The current will take us down. Ready?’
Simo nodded. The pair stepped up on to the side rail and jumped into the water.
Though he was used to the rigours of icy baths, Cassius was surprised by how cold the water was. Considering he had been dozing only a few moments earlier, he certainly felt awake by the time he surfaced.
Looking around, he glimpsed the Adva veering away and spied Simo only a few yards to his right. Pushing away a clump of weed and branches, he turned his attention downriver.
With a splintering crack, the little boat split in two. The woman’s arms flew up as she was tossed into the water. The front half of the boat ended up on its side, hull facing upstream as the water pressed it against the rock.
‘Can you see her?’
‘No, sir.’
‘We’re drifting.’
Forced in two directions by the land, the current was even more powerful here. Both men put in a dozen powerful strokes to get themselves in the right position.
‘Uh!’ Cassius’s ankle struck a submerged rock.
‘You all right, sir?’
‘Just a knock. Watch your legs.’
They were bearing down on the boat, now no more than twenty feet away.
‘I see the man,’ said Simo, who had been pulled further to Cassius’s right. ‘He … he’s struggling.’
‘You go after him. I’ll—’
Simo said something but Cassius never heard it. He thrashed to his left to avoid striking the boat, then had to frantically readjust to reach the rock. Once close enough, he pushed his hand into a crevice and pulled himself in. The bow of the boat was right in front of him, the sides almost flat against the rock.
‘Are you there?’
He heard a whimper. Two fingers appeared.
‘All right. I’ll try and get it off.’
Locking his left foot into a hollow, Cassius got his arm between the rock and the boat, then moved around, trying to prise the wreckage away. But the forces at work were strong. Only once he’d re-positioned both feet could he push the bow off the woman.
At last he could see her. Deathly pale, her face was framed by sodden hair and a headscarf. She tried to say something but her chattering teeth rendered it incomprehensible. Back to the rock, she was still holding on to the side of the boat.
‘You’re free. Turn and hold the rock.’
She just looked at him, eyes wide with panic.
Cassius grabbed her arm.
She resisted and shrieked at him.
Cassius reckoned his knees were about to buckle. ‘I can’t hold it forever. Turn around. Hold the rock!’
He gripped her wrist and pulled it off the boat. Though she continued to thrash around, when he placed her hand firmly on the rock she at last understood and turned. Fingers white, face flat against the outcrop, she hung on.
Cassius moved towards her to get a better angle. Wincing as his bare toes scraped the rock, he moved his feet up and was able to lever the boat another six inches further away. Once all the weight was on his back, he moved left.
Suddenly water rushed into the remains of the hull and dragged the boat away. Only a despairing grab at the crevice stopped him going with it.
By the gods.
He clung on there until he’d caught his breath, then crabbed his away around until he was beside the woman. ‘Right, let’s get to shore.’
Whether it was a language difficulty or fear, she showed no sign of having understood.
‘We are going!’
The clearest path between the rocks was on her side. Cassius clambered over her and held her arm as gently as the circumstances allowed.
‘Come on, I’ll help you.’
She shook her head, teeth still chattering.
Gods, these bloody ignorant peasants.
‘Come on.’
Cassius prised her hand off the rock and pulled her away. He had expected instinct to take over and that she would be able to at least stay afloat.
Instinct did take over. Fear.
The woman threw herself at him, dragging them both under. Cassius had time only to grab half a breath. Pushing her away, then gripping one hand, he kicked out with both legs and came up again. Though she was still beneath the surface, he managed to get a hold on the nearest rock and pull her up. Coughing and spluttering, she threw herself at him again. This time a hand caught him on the nose. When he’d recovered, Cassius found her coming at him once more.
He slapped her. Hard.
While she was still stunned, he turned her towards the rock, where she hung, limpet-like, once more.
‘Simo! You there?’
No reply.
Hearing a tapping sound, Cassius saw that another section of the boat had become entangled in a mass of weed and branches between two rocks. He swam over and found an even better prize nearby – a large paddle.
He returned, showed the woman the paddle and demonstrated what he wanted her to do. Whether it was the slap or some sense of reason at last returning, she took hold, realising it would keep her afloat.
‘I’ll be with you. Come on.’
Treading water, Cassius encouraged her away from the rock then coaxed her towards the island. Once she got going and realised how close they were, she began kicking like a thing possessed, soon overtaking Cassius and showering him with water.
He almost laughed; and before long felt the immense relief of his feet touching the bottom. His charge didn’t seem to realise she could stand until he walked up to her and took her hand. Once through a bank of high reeds, they came across Simo and the man. The poor fellow was lying on his front, coughing and retching. Simo was on his knees, water dripping from his hair, broad chest heaving up and down.
When they saw their mother, the children ran to her. She collapsed to the ground and they threw their arms around her neck, tears streaming down their faces.
Only now did Cassius feel the knocks and scrapes he had sustained. His arms and feet were bleeding
in several places. Simo had taken a similar amount of damage.
Bent over, sucking in breath, the attendant looked up at his master. ‘You all right, sir?’
‘Fine.’ Cassius slapped him on the back. ‘Nothing like a nice, bracing afternoon dip, eh?’
Once able to speak, the father of the family had offered profuse thanks, embracing Cassius three times and Simo four. When Cassius saw the family reunited and considered what might have been, he felt a lump in his throat.
While they waited for the Adva’s tender, another boat arrived to take the family ashore. They were able to salvage not only the paddle but also several bags lodged in the reeds. From them, the father retrieved some coins, which Cassius of course refused. They parted without a single exchange other than ‘farewell’ understood by both sides; wherever the family were from, they had no grasp at all of Latin or Greek.
Four silent crewmen returned the tender to the Adva’s stern and Cassius and Simo disembarked first. The stony-faced Tolmai was already telling his men to hurry up.
Though he knew he needed to keep him on side, Cassius could not recall many displays of such heartlessness. It was true that he had warned the Syrians about the perils of dangerous distractions but this had been a measured risk and they had saved one, possibly two lives – in half an hour.
‘My apologies, captain, for the inconvenience.’
Tolmai ignored this, instead bellowing at his remaining oarsmen to get the galley underway again.
Cassius added, ‘I hope your gods see fit to spare you and your family such a fate.’
‘Such a fate would not befall me. I would not act so stupidly.’
‘Perhaps he had no choice.’
Tolmai tapped the shoulder of his wife, who had been holding the ship’s tiller. He jumped down beside her and took over. ‘I will not be lectured to aboard my own ship. Return to your place. Sir.’ The last word was laced with contempt.
On any other occasion, Cassius would have castigated the man. For once in his life, he longed for the days where he wore his scarlet cloak and carried his great sword and nine out of ten people did precisely what he told them to.
He felt a hand on his arm: Simo, who was as wet and bedraggled as Cassius. The attendant was not in the habit of giving his master unsolicited advice. But the message in his eyes was clear.
Cassius took a long breath. ‘Come, Simo – the breeze will dry us.’
The two daughters were standing on the side deck, from where they had apparently watched the incident unfold. The younger girl smiled admiringly but swiftly looked away.
Talitha whispered something.
Cassius did not hear it, nor did he dare look at her.
‘Well done,’ said Kabir as they approached. Yablus had dug out a couple of towels for them.
‘Very good,’ said Idan stiffly, which to Cassius meant a great deal.
‘I tell you, it is a curse upon the world that the lower classes fear the water so.’
‘Fortunate for those people that you do not,’ said Kabir.
The galley lurched away as the oarsmen set to work. The others sat down while Cassius and Simo continued drying themselves. Glancing over at the island, Cassius could see the family in the boat approaching the shore. He experienced a surge of euphoria unlike anything he had felt in a while. On such occasions he felt tempted to scoff at the gods (which he had done many times in his youth): an able, courageous man could often be of far more use to someone in peril.
‘And what about Simo?’ he said proudly.
The Gaul patted his stomach. Despite the lost weight, he had the type of build that would always be regarded as ‘well covered’.
‘Extra buoyancy perhaps?’ he said sheepishly.
The Syrians laughed.
‘Nonsense,’ exclaimed Cassius. He dropped the towel and squeezed the attendant’s shoulders. ‘Strength. And courage. Well done, Simo. Now tell me – where’s the wine?’
They drank two full flasks that afternoon. Even Simo imbibed more than his usual one-mug limit and the Syrians had their share too. Feeling better than he had in some time, Cassius lay on the deck for the remainder of the day, watching the world go by. He saw herders with their sheep and goats, gathering their flocks by the river to drink. He saw a broad lagoon where some enterprising folk collected decaying boats and reused the timber and metal. He saw a group from some religious sect bearing colourful banners and clothes; watching from the road as the Adva passed under a high, arched bridge. Though taking down the mast cost them an hour, Tolmai and his crew continued to force the pace.
An incident later in the day darkened the mood among the passengers. Kammath and Yablus had been speaking in their own tongue for some time when Kabir snapped at them and both became quiet and sullen. Later, when the chieftain went below, Idan explained that Kabir could simply not bear to hear too much talk about his missing daughter.
As they bedded down that night, Simo discovered that they would indeed reach their destination on the following day. The captain made it clear that he would not converse with Cassius, so it was Simo who paid what they hoped would be their last fee the next morning.
Other than a thunderstorm that slowed their departure, the Adva once again progressed well and they arrived at the point closest to the Chalcedon road with an hour of daylight to spare. The village was quite large, built upon partially terraced slopes above the Sakarya. Cassius expected the ship to remain there for the night but as the passengers disembarked, Tolmai bade them farewell. Those crew on deck also said a word or two as the Syrians jumped from the side of the vessel to the timber quay and Tolmai explained that they were stopping only for half an hour – not long enough to bother with the gangplank.
The captain shook the hand Cassius offered him without looking him in the eye. His wife and youngest daughter were coiling ropes and politely wished him well. Of Talitha there was no sign.
Once ashore, the party met a local who confirmed they had enough light to reach an inn upon the Chalcedon road. He also divulged that they could hire mounts from the stable owned by the same man.
The path to the road led up through the terraced slopes. The largest building beside it was a surprisingly respectable villa, with a colonnaded doorway and a garden full of exotic plants. As the six men made their way upwards, a gate clanged open and a rotund, middle-aged woman waddled out. She was wearing an apron over her tunic and holding a piece of paper.
‘Are you Master Corbulo?’
‘I am,’ said Cassius once he’d recovered from this unexpected development.
‘This is for you. The name and details of my master, who is a former centurion and tax collector. We receive post here, so if you want to send a letter, we will keep it.’
‘A letter?’
‘Yes.’ The woman turned and pointed down the slope. ‘For her.’
In the fading light, Cassius could just make out the slender frame and dark locks of Talitha. She was standing at the corner of a wall, looking up.
‘She can read and write Greek quite well. The Adva passes through at least three or four times a year. I would make sure that anything from you reached her. She was very insistent that I tell you so.’
‘I see.’
At a word from Kabir, the Syrians continued up the slope.
Cassius took the paper, and made sure Talitha saw him do so. The likelihood of him ever coming here again was slim. And the truth was – even without his current preoccupations – the pair of them were simply too different in background. Cassius wished it were not so; he often preferred the company of common girls to those of his class. But without any chance of marriage, he would simply be leading her on.
And yet he could not bring himself to tell the woman that, though he knew it would be kinder. If he had learned anything in the last few years, it was that life could take the most unlikely of turns.
Her efforts were probably no more than desperation or infatuation but there was something deeply touching about the lengths Talitha ha
d gone to. Like him, she needed hope. There was always a chance.
‘Thank you.’
The woman smiled politely and returned inside.
Cassius put the note inside his money bag, then raised his hand.
Talitha waved back and blew him a kiss.
For the briefest moment, he was tempted to charge straight back down that path and run away with her. But the fantasy was merely that.
‘Sir, are you all right?’
‘Yes. Walk on.’
Cassius blew Talitha a kiss then turned away so that she would not see him wipe his eyes.
XXIV
Sleeping and dreaming gave him respite. When he was awake, he was either examining his failing body or waiting for the next visit from Surgeon. He wasn’t sure how many times they had bled him but he knew it was more than ten. They tried to make him keep eating but the solid ball of pain in his chest had quelled any remaining appetite. He was thirsty all the time, however, and his captors made sure the mugs by his bedside were always full.
Twice Indavara had heard Surgeon complain that his ‘patient’ needed a rest. Once, when they’d thought he was asleep, he’d heard Slab insisting that the treatment was working; that his master needed more blood. Indavara found himself praying to Fortuna once again: not to directly help him – it seemed she was unwilling or unable to do so – but to help this man. If the mad bastard improved, they would leave Indavara alone. He had seen fighters lose a lot of blood and survive; and he reckoned it was true that the body could make more. But every day he felt worse.
His skin was so pale now; paler even than Corbulo’s. It felt cool too; and wet. And though he was lying down and had not risen for days, he felt dizzy; a little like he’d drunk too many mugs of wine. The pain in his chest seemed to suck the rest of his body inwards, slowly sapping every last ounce of strength.
Indavara wasn’t sure how much more he could take. Unable now to stay awake for more than an hour or two, he feared that he might soon drift off forever.
And then there were the dreams.
Forests shrouded by fog. Frozen lakes. Houses made of timber. One house in particular he saw again and again: a conical roof of thatch; a high, fenced yard beside it. The door was dark. He never saw inside. He never saw anyone.
