The Far Shore (17 page)

‘Very funny.’

Indavara crossed the room, stepped over one of the saddlebags and stood close to Cassius. ‘You know something, Corbulo?’

Cassius felt his throat dry. Indavara hardly ever addressed him by name.

‘One day I might not be around when you need someone scared or beaten up, or you pick a fight with the wrong people. And then you really will have a problem, won’t you?’

Indavara held Cassius’s gaze a moment longer then walked past him and out on to the street.

In the murky gloom of early evening, with a light rain still falling, the passengers and crew of the
Fortuna Redux
stood in a line behind the deckhouse, waiting for Asdribar to begin the leaving ceremony.

The start of the tenth hour had just passed but, to Cassius’s surprise, the Carthaginian had managed to get the ship in some sort of order and assemble his crew. The full complement was twenty, but various individuals had already departed for different parts of the island so he was now down to twelve. Apart from Squint and Korinth, his other senior man was Opilio: a veteran of the Roman fleets about the same age as his captain. He seemed to be in charge of everything that went on below decks and had been supervising the loading of supplies. The other nine members of the crew were as rough and eclectic a bunch as Cassius had seen. He’d already heard conversations in four different languages, though it seemed Asdribar insisted on Greek for anything relating to the ship.

Cassius had hoped Annia might have a late change of heart, but she and Clara had already taken over the deckhouse by the time he, Indavara and Simo arrived. He’d briefly considered a last appeal to the girl but not only did he think it would fall on deaf ears, he simply hadn’t the energy for it. The long, taxing day had sapped his strength and all he wanted to do was go below and get settled in. Unlike many freighters, the
Fortuna
had four small cabins close to the stern, one of which Asdribar had put aside for them. They were yet to see their quarters; their gear was still piled up next to the hatch.

The captain was standing behind the two altars situated between the deckhouse and the stern. Both comprising cubes of stone mounted in wooden frames, one altar was inscribed with dedications in numerous languages while the other was stained pink with blood from sacrificed animals. Several cockerels had been brought aboard and one would be killed as a symbol of gratitude when they next reached port.

‘We shall begin,’ said the Carthaginian in Greek.

Cassius, Indavara and Simo stood to his right, with Annia and Clara (holding a parasol over her mistress) separating them from the crew. Asdribar had suggested to Cassius that they take a moment with Korinth and Indavara, but Cassius thought it best just to keep them apart, for the remainder of the day at least.

‘First, to the God of the Deep, Great Poseidon.’

Cassius was relieved to see no reaction from the crew. Even if Poseidon had been offended, the other gods were undoubtedly smiling on Indavara if none of the sailors had heard what he’d done to that priest.

Squint came forward with a jug and placed it on the altar.

‘This we give to you, Great Poseidon,’ said Asdribar, ‘so that we may in return see fair winds and calm seas.’ He spoke quietly – his voice barely audible above the low hiss of the rain striking the water – but invested his words with a compelling gravitas. ‘We humbly beg that you will be merciful, and see us safely on our way.’

He picked up the jug of wine, walked to the stern and poured it into the water. When he returned to the altar, Squint took the jug and handed the captain a little wooden bowl, which he placed on top of the inscribed stone.

‘Now, to the goddess Fortuna, whose name this vessel carries, and to whom we offer our riches, so that the vagaries of luck may favour us. Come and give, so that you shall receive the best and avoid the worst.’

One by one, the crew came forward and dropped a coin into the bowl. Annia did the same, prompting Cassius to wonder where she was keeping the rest of her money – several large bags, surely. He, Simo and Indavara each added a sesterce to the bowl.

With Korinth holding a cloth cover over the altar, Squint poured thick, scented oil over the coins. He then lit a match from a lantern and set the oil alight. As it sizzled and spat, Asdribar dropped the coins into the water.

‘Now I honour the gods of Carthage.’

The captain shut his eyes and spoke a few sentences in Punic.

Then came the turn of Opilio, who placed a small libation on the altar. ‘To Jupiter, great god, all offerings and prayers. I beg for favour and deliverance.’

Asdribar glanced at another of the crew. ‘And we acknowledge our friend Desenna. He worships the Hebrew god and will make his own prayers.’

Cassius was surprised to see the other crewmen turn to this man Desenna and nod respectfully. With the ceremony over, Asdribar suggested that Annia and Clara retire to the deckhouse while the crew made final preparations. The two young women picked their way past assorted ropes and sailbags, holding their stolas up above the wet deck. Korinth and another man looked on and shook their heads. Cassius watched Annia and Clara as they entered the deckhouse. He couldn’t be entirely sure because of the rain, but the maid seemed to be crying.

‘Ridiculous,’ he whispered to himself. ‘Utterly ridiculous.’

‘Whose is this crap?’ yelled Korinth, now standing by the hatch, staring down at the unstowed gear.

Cassius walked over to him. ‘Ours.’

‘Get it below.’

With a steely glance at Indavara, Korinth headed forward to join the men dragging the immense mainsail bag towards the mast.

‘Best do as the man says,’ Cassius told the others.

Even though he did his part, weighing himself down with saddlebags and a sack of food, it took return journeys from Simo and Indavara to get everything down the steps.

The upper hold of the ship was comparatively high; Cassius could almost stand up straight. Stacked up on the right side were hundreds of the twig bales he’d seen used for separating and protecting fragile cargo. To the left was a big pile of timber and a carpenter’s table.

Opilio – who was apparently known as the hold-chief – came down the steps at speed. He was a squat, solidly built character clad in a grubby tunic. Not the most attractive of men, he was also the unfortunate owner of a flat nose, unruly teeth and thinning, straggly hair.

‘This way, sir,’ he said, picking up two skins of water and hurrying along the passageway behind the steps towards the stern. The three of them grabbed what they could and followed him. Directly ahead was what looked like the galley, with two cabins on each side of the passageway. Opilio stopped at the second room on the right. ‘We had some salt pork hanging in here so you’ll have to forgive the smell.’

The cabin was tiny; by Cassius’s estimation about eight feet by seven. There was one bed, with a straw mattress no more than two inches thick. The head of the bed was against the far wall, under a porthole from which water was dripping.

Opilio put down the skins and squeezed past Cassius. ‘I’ll be in the galley if you need anything, sir.’

As he left, Cassius turned to Simo. ‘At least there’s one cheerful member of the crew.’

Opilio stuck his head back in the doorway. ‘Only because I just heard what we’re getting paid, sir. I’m usually a right miserable bastard.’

Korinth arrived outside with a woven basket of clothes in his hand. He dropped it in the room opposite, then strode back along the passageway.

Indavara picked up his bags. ‘I’ll find a space somewhere else. There’s no room for all of us in here anyway.’

‘As you wish,’ replied Cassius.

‘Did you have a falling-out, sir?’ asked Simo when Indavara had gone.

‘Of sorts. You know what he’s like.’

‘At least he’s rather more sociable now, sir. You must remember how he was when we first met? It’s only been a matter of months.’

Cassius went and stood by the porthole for a little fresh air as the Gaul brought in the last of the bags. ‘It’s just that he never seems to think. Just does the first thing that comes into his head.’

‘Some might regard that as an admirable trait for a man in his profession, sir.’

‘I suppose. What about his numbers and letters?’

‘We’ve not had a lot of time, sir, but I’d say he’s no worse or better than anyone else starting an education.’

‘And he’s still not spoken to you of his family, his past?’

‘Not a word, sir. I have tried on occasion but he always changes the subject or goes quiet.’

‘I must admit I’m curious,’ replied Cassius. ‘Think about it – all we know is that he was a gladiator in Pietas Julia, ended up travelling east, then fell into the employ of Abascantius. Try again, Simo.’

‘I don’t think I’ll get anywhere, sir.’

‘Well I certainly won’t. Just try.’

A small group had gathered on the dock to see off the freighter, including half a dozen women, a couple of whom had children with them. They didn’t look particularly happy that their menfolk were departing; neither did the sailors.

The start of the eleventh hour was well past, and though the rain had stopped, a blanket of low, grey cloud lay over Rhodes and the sea beyond. The wind had increased too, chopping the water into steep, angular waves.

The
Fortuna
’s deck was now clear, except for the mainsail and the yard, which would be raised once the ship was out of the harbour. Two towing tugs – twenty-foot dories each manned by eight strapping oarsmen – were sculling around in front of the ship. Akritos the harbour master was in one of them and had just overseen the tying of thick ropes to iron rings mounted on the freighter’s bow.

Keen to escape the malodorous cabin, Cassius was standing close to the mast on the shore side, his thickest woollen cloak over his shoulders. He could have blamed any number of things for the bitter churning in his stomach but suspected the prospect of a long, perilous sea journey was the main culprit.

Two hundred miles.
Two hundred
.
In November. And ships were so slow, and so dependent on the elements. The only advantage was that when you slept – if you slept – you might awake to find another thirty or forty miles had been covered. Cassius just hoped the seasickness wouldn’t be too bad. Later he would find his figurine of Neptune and offer a proper prayer of his own.

‘Watch yourself there, sir.’

Cassius stood aside as one of the crew came past him and up to the side-rail. The sailor caught a rope thrown by Korinth, who was untying the lines holding the ship against the wharf. Squint, meanwhile, was now standing on a small platform between the deckhouse and the main hatch. He already had a hand on each of the tiller bars, which were connected by a complicated system of sockets and timbers to the two steering rudders on either side of the ship’s stern. Asdribar was standing just ahead of the veteran, arms crossed. The harbour master waved to him.

‘Ready at the stern?’ the captain cried.

‘Ready here!’ answered one of the sailors.

‘Ready at the bow?’

‘Ready here!’

‘Cast her off!’

Korinth and three of the crew pushed the ship away from the wharf, then jumped aboard.

Asdribar called out to Akritos: ‘Heave on!’

‘Heave on!’

Cassius ran a finger across his chin. The stubble on his face could stay now; it would keep his face warm and a ship was no place for a shave with an iron razor, even if carried out by Simo’s steady hand. He watched as the towing lines pulled tight and the
Fortuna
began to move. Though dwarfed by the freighter, the dories were soon pulling her along at quite a clip towards the harbour entrance.

‘Officer Corbulo.’

Cassius turned to see Annia beside him. She had her own thick cloak wrapped around her and had done something with her stola to keep the embroidered hem above the deck.

‘Miss.’

Neither of them said anything else for a while. Then some of the sailors started throwing colourful insults at the oarsmen, who fired back equally imaginative retorts. It was rather awkward, standing there with the young lady as curses fouled the air.

‘They have a competition in the summer,’ Annia said eventually.

‘Sorry?’

‘The dories – they race across the harbour. People make bets.’

‘Ah. How are your quarters, miss?’

‘They’ll do. It’s good of the captain to give up his deckhouse for us.’

Cassius doubted there was much Asdribar wouldn’t give up for a hundred denarii a day. Besides, the presence of the two young women was likely to be enough of a distraction for the crew. Better that they stay out of the way.

‘Do you think we’ll find this … Dio?’

She said the name with her eyes closed, as if she could barely stand to utter it.

‘The soldiers found another witness who confirmed he was on the
Cartenna
. If we can catch up, or at least arrive not too long after in Cnossus, I believe there’s a good chance, yes.’

‘I suppose it might not end there. With him, I mean.’

‘Possibly not.’

‘It was an assassination. Someone hired him, paid him, that’s why he—’