The Earthly Gods

by Nick Brown

  He still found it hard to comprehend what he and his allies had done. But it was not the first time he had killed fellow Romans; and the last leader he’d defeated had deserved death as much as Phaedrus, Nereus and Octavius. The soldiers who had followed Octavius? That was more complicated but they must surely have been ‘Earthly Gods’ themselves; and they had been prepared to follow the orders of their criminal centurion without hesitation. Cassius reckoned he could have made a decent speech of defence but he was in no doubt about the outcome if charges were ever brought against him. As an officer, he could only be tried by a military court. Regardless of his enemies’ crimes, he had chosen a bunch of nomads over fellow Roman officers and gentlemen. His Empire would hang him for it.

  ‘You cold, sir?’ said the first mate. ‘We’ve some spare cloaks below.’

  ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘You’re shivering.’

  ‘I’m fine. Tell me, will we clear Ilium by nightfall?’

  ‘Should do.’

  From there, they would reach open sea; from there they could sail straight for Chios.

  Cassius did what he could to avoid Tarchon on those first two days. Despite his usual seasickness, he stayed with Simo in the small cabin they had been provided with and tried to rest. On the evening of the third day he told the attendant all that had happened in Byzantium. He needed to do so and faltered only once: when describing how he had killed Octavius and fallen beneath the dying centurion.

  ‘That’s where all the blood came from.’

  ‘Yes.’

  The clothes had been thrown away and Cassius had insisted that Simo clean his sword, belt and mail shirt twice. All three items had now been polished and lay in a corner of the room upon a length of cloth. Cassius was sitting on the bed, Simo opposite him on the room’s only chair, which fitted neatly into four holes in the floor to hold it still.

  ‘You could never justify it of course – such violence, such sin.’

  Simo did not answer.

  ‘If there had been any other way, I would have taken it. But we had to get them out. And we had to know.’

  Simo clasped his hands and stared down at the floor.

  ‘Say something.’

  ‘Sins are not equal,’ offered Simo after a time. ‘We have seen some terrible things, sir, you and I. Of the enemies you have faced, it seems to me that most of them at least had their reasons. But this … to treat others so cruelly purely for … lust and …’

  ‘—entertainment.’

  Simo nodded. ‘I cannot condone killing, sir, not ever. But I understand it; and I cannot say that in Kabir’s place I would do any different.’

  ‘There are some forces stronger than faith, then. Even yours?’

  ‘It is not that they are too strong, sir. It is that we are too weak.’

  On the fourth morning, as the galley passed the island of Lesbos, Tarchon joined Cassius on deck. They were sitting on a bench to the right of the steering position, with only the first mate and the captain for company. The rest of the crew were manning the oars; a necessary measure as the wind had backed during the night. The galley was now fighting a strong southerly and rain which showed no sign of abating.

  Like Cassius, Tarchon wore an oiled cloak with a hood.

  ‘Need some air?’

  ‘Indeed. I just hope we reach Chios in daylight.’

  ‘That may be a struggle. We have been fortunate so far but they’ll do well to make two or three knots against this.’

  Cassius could see little of his face under the hood. Tarchon had a deep, rich voice and an accent that to Cassius sounded Greek. He also clearly favoured the language over Latin.

  ‘You know the island well?’

  ‘Not particularly. I was there about eight years ago, looking for some tribune who’d deserted with three chests of gold coins meant for his legion.’

  ‘Did you find him?’

  ‘Yes, but not there. He was holed up with his mistress in Ephesus.’

  ‘Did he put up a fight?’

  ‘He tried to.’

  Both men turned their heads to the stern as spray arced over the bow. The captain sent the first mate forward, to where a boy was acting as lookout.

  ‘How long have you worked for Abascantius?’ Cassius asked, mainly to stop Tarchon asking him questions.

  ‘A decade, on and off. It’s been Galatia and Cappadocia for a couple of years but the Service sends me where I’m needed. Mainly the east, though I daresay I’ll be headed west fairly soon. You too, probably.’

  ‘Abascantius did mention that.’

  ‘I don’t mind a change but I’ll have to brush up on my Latin.’

  ‘It’s not your first language?’

  ‘Barely knew a word as a child.’

  ‘May I ask how you came to be in the Service?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘Yes, you may ask.’

  With a grin, Tarchon stood up and stretched then went to talk to the captain.

  Though there was no chance he would see it, Cassius turned and looked south for Chios.

  The island did not come into view until the following morning. Cassius knew nothing of the place other than a vague recollection of a naval battle between the Roman and Persian fleets. He wasn’t sure if the incident had occurred during the first or second Macedonian War and neither captain nor crew had any idea either. What they were able to tell him was that it was shaped like a thick crescent, thirty miles at its longest, eighteen at its widest. The capital, also Chios, was situated on the far side of the island – the west – which meant there was a decision to be made.

  Tarchon admitted that he could not even be sure what kind of presence the army and navy now maintained.

  ‘Going around will add several hours,’ said Cassius.

  ‘Yes, but the sailors say the east coast is almost uninhabited and there are only two anchorages. We may not be able to find out much there; or even hire horses.’

  ‘It has to be the capital then.’

  Tarchon told the captain, who immediately consulted the first mate. The wind was light; the oarsmen were hard at work.

  ‘Gods.’ Cassius rubbed his brow and wondered how he could make the next hours pass quickly.

  ‘You’ve waited weeks,’ said Tarchon. ‘Just be glad we’re here. We can get some answers for you at last.’

  The wait was as agonising as Cassius had feared. The captain could not recall precisely the location of the capital and three times they cleared a headland only for Cassius to realise they were still not there. Finally, around the ninth hour, the galley turned towards the shore.

  There wasn’t much to the town; the largest building Cassius spotted on the way in was a temple. Beyond it lay higher ground which virtually surrounded the settlement. It seemed unlikely that a speedy search of the island would be possible but he reckoned there was one advantage to the remote location and low population – surely someone would know Sextus Villius Cornelius.

  There was no harbour or breakwater; only a large quay situated in the middle of the cove where most of the buildings were concentrated.

  ‘Just remembered a bit of learning,’ said the first mate as they approached.

  ‘First time for everything,’ said the captain, drawing a smirk from Tarchon.

  ‘They say Homer was born here.’ The first mate seemed impressed with himself. ‘Homer.’

  Simo came up from below. Over one shoulder was a pack containing a few essentials, over the other was Cassius’s sword bag. As the crewmen shipped their oars and a towing dory came out to meet them, Cassius pulled out the sword and hung the belt from his shoulder.

  Tarchon seemed faintly amused by the sight of the blade. He carried only a dagger and seemed to make every effort to appear unremarkable. His boots were of decent quality, his belt and tunic utterly average. He also carried a small goatskin bag on his back. To the casual observer, he would blend in. But to anyone who studied the man, they would soon realise that
this was an individual of note.

  The dark eyes seemed to take everything in but give nothing away. He only spoke when he needed to and rarely wasted a word. The physique was solid and athletic rather than overtly muscular. He looked as if he could stand and face danger or run fast enough to get away with ease. Even on the boat he moved smoothly, like an athlete.

  He reminded Cassius of Indavara, and he decided he might learn a great deal from the man, given the opportunity.

  Once the ship was alongside, Cassius, Simo and Tarchon jumped off. One of the men taking the galley’s lines told them that the best place to ask for information was either the harbour master’s or the island’s assembly house. The harbour master’s was closer.

  As they walked past some curious boys and fishermen carrying pots teeming with shellfish, Tarchon pointed to the south. Beyond the quay were several moorings, three of which were occupied by galleys of a similar size to the one they had arrived on.

  ‘Wonder if one of those belongs to our friend.’

  ‘Maybe.’

  Other than the plaque beside the door, the harbour master’s looked like the other modest villas facing the water. At the dwelling next door, two old women sat under an awning, looking on.

  Just as Tarchon reached for the door, it opened. A man of about forty stood there, a set of keys in his hand.

  ‘Sorry, closing up for the day.’

  ‘You’ll give us a minute, though,’ said Tarchon.

  The harbour master inspected them, then looked at the quay.

  ‘Did you just arrive?’

  ‘Yes.’

  The harbour master lowered his keys but remained in the doorway. ‘What can I do for you?’

  ‘We’re here to visit Sextus Villius Cornelius. Can you give us directions to his home?’

  ‘Knows you’re coming, does he?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Cornelius keeps himself to himself. I’m not sure he’d like me telling strangers where to find him.’

  ‘We’re army officers.’

  ‘Where are your uni—’

  Tarchon leaned forward. ‘I’m already running out of patience with you, my friend. Where does Cornelius live?’

  The harbour master wilted quickly under the agent’s gaze. ‘All right, just don’t let him know I told you. Off the town square is a road leading south. After four miles you will come to a ruined temple. The next turning left takes you to his villa. It’s not signposted.’

  Tarchon nodded towards the moorings. ‘Do any of those galleys belong to him?’

  ‘No. He has his own dock at the villa.’

  ‘Is there an army garrison here?’

  ‘Just a guard officer and a squad of twelve – plus the local militia.’

  ‘Who’s the guard officer and where will we find him?’

  ‘They’ll have finished work by now. They’re repairing the old barracks – apparently we’re to get a half century in the spring. Guard officer is named Agapetos. He and the rest of the squad are housed in two inns. One of them is on the square, called The Octopus.

  Cassius was all set to leave but Tarchon had another question.

  ‘Cornelius – what do you know of him?’

  ‘Same as everyone else, I suppose – not much. Except that he’s very, very rich.’

  They caught Agapetos in the middle of bathing. The guard officer emerged from The Octopus’s bath house with a towel wrapped round his waist.

  ‘Cornelius, you say? Who exactly are you?’

  ‘Imperial security,’ said Tarchon. ‘Assemble your men – you have five minutes. Understood?’

  Where Cassius often relied on his distinguished tones to convince soldiers that they should follow his orders, Tarchon clearly favoured a blunter approach.

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  Agapetos followed them back across the courtyard to the inn.

  ‘You have horses?’ asked Tarchon.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What about us? We need three.’

  Agapetos darted through an open doorway, bellowed at someone, then replied.

  ‘They’ll be brought round to the front. We’ll be just behind you.’

  The guard officer was true to his word. As Cassius, Tarchon and Simo guided their newly acquired mounts up a path leading out of the town, the legionaries came galloping up behind them.

  His hair still wet, Agapetos reined in. ‘Got six for you.’

  ‘Good enough,’ said Tarchon.

  Once at the top of the slope, the narrow road continued south, occasionally passing alarmingly close to some steep drops. This part of Chios’s coast was dominated by vertiginous cliffs and some pleasant-looking beaches of grey sand. They passed two men carrying a long pole, hanging from which were freshly caught squid skewered on hooks.

  Tarchon waved Agapetos forward. ‘Where exactly is the house?’

  ‘Beyond the next headland at one end of what we call Long Bay. The villa itself is not that big but Cornelius owns the whole area around it.’

  ‘And his own ship,’ said Cassius, who was now riding behind the pair with Simo. He was desperate to urge his mount into a gallop but the road was neither straight nor flat enough to risk it.

  ‘That’s right,’ replied Agapetos, wiping sweat from his cheek.

  One of the men spoke up from behind them.

  ‘What’s that?’ said Tarchon.

  ‘Apparently the Leontophoros hasn’t been out for a while. Some of the locals reckon Cornelius is ill – he used to take a lot of walks but he’s not been seen in the town for months.’

  ‘What else do you know of him?’ asked Cassius. ‘What about his employees?’

  Agapetos shrugged but then turned round and questioned his men. The answers revealed that Cornelius’s domestic staff still visited the town regularly. The ship’s captain was also housed at the villa and kept a skeleton crew with him at all times.

  As they neared the headland, the group entered an area that had recently suffered a severe fire. The ground was covered with ash and the trees had been scorched so badly that only their blackened skeletons remained. The bitter smell was still thick in the air. Just beyond the reach of the flames, they came to the ruined temple, which was little more than a rectangle of foundation stones and rubble.

  They turned off and had followed the track for no more than a quarter of a mile when the villa came into view below. Built at right angles to the shore, the dwelling had been constucted in the shelter of the headland. To the rear were numerous outbuildings plus a sizeable garden and terrace. At the front, a narrow concrete platform ran seaward, connecting the house to an impressive dock, upon which several more small buildings had been constructed.

  There was no ship.

  ‘Looks quiet,’ observed Agapetos.

  Cassius studied the building and the surroundings.

  ‘I don’t see anyone,’ said Tarchon.

  Cassius’s head was buzzing.

  ‘Sir?’ said Simo.

  Please no. Not after all this. I have to know. I have to know.

  ‘Yah!’

  Cassius set his horse away and took not a single look back as he followed the zigzagging trail downwards. Hands gripping the reins, his kicks kept the mount moving. As its hooves pounded the ground, the horse threw itself around each bend and in no time at all reached the bottom. Not bothering to tie it up, Cassius leaped down and drew his sword.

  He marched on to the terrace and looked around. There was not only no one there but not a single sign of recent habitation. He walked up to a half-open window shutter. Inside was a kitchen. Upon a table were a few plates and jugs. As the others arrived, Cassius ran around to the nearest door. Finding it unlocked, he wrenched it open.

  The house was silent. He walked across a floor of wide black and white tiles and looked into a bedroom. It was empty except for a bed and a chest of drawers. Reaching the atrium, he noted the discolouration on the walls where something – a tapestry perhaps – had been taken down. Beyond the atrium was a study
, where he found a desk and a few dozen books and scrolls.

  ‘Sir?’

  Ignoring Simo, he ran out of the front door into the fading light. Scattered upon the platform were numerous wooden boxes, woven baskets and amphora. Most were empty; some contained a few bits of ironware.

  Cassius walked on to the dock, only stopping when he came to the first mooring post. Around it was a coil of rope, the only line there. A single gull standing at the far end of the dock flapped into the air then headed across the bay, inches above the waves. Cassius looked down at the water lapping against the concrete.

  ‘Sir.’ Simo put a hand on his shoulder.

  ‘I thought we would know. At least we would know.’

  Cassius had no idea how long he stood there before Tarchon joined them. ‘Looks like the place has been robbed. Everything portable and of value seems to have been taken. I don’t know what to make of it. You?’

  ‘What does it matter? They’re gone.’

  ‘I don’t see how they could have known we were coming. Cleaning this place out would have taken time. We’ll keep searching.’

  Tarchon hurried back across the dock.

  Cassius waited for Simo to finish his whispered prayer before speaking.

  ‘I wonder how long we missed them by. Might have only been hours.’

  Simo gazed up at the sky for some time, then walked with him back towards the house.

  ‘Perhaps we should stop now,’ said Cassius. ‘Perhaps Abascantius was right.’

  ‘This is all so strange, sir. Doesn’t it suggest that this man Cornelius was somehow involved? Can’t we find his ship?’

  ‘And then what? Another moment like this? You want that?’

  As they arrived in the atrium, Agapetos and the others were reporting back to Tarchon.

  ‘I just don’t understand it,’ said the guard officer. ‘With all the staff and the sailors there must have been at least a dozen of them. It’s just been left unlocked.’