The Far Shore (26 page)

After a brief conversation with Asdribar, the captain of the
Rusucurru
– a tall, grey-bearded fellow who also seemed to be Carthaginian – brought his ship alongside the
Fortuna
. The freighter, a longer and bulkier vessel, was under oar power and covered the distance swiftly. Asdribar ordered his hands to ease their lines and soon the ships were just ten yards apart, drifting off the still-invisible harbour.

The twenty men on the
Rusucurru
’s deck were, if anything, a rougher-looking bunch than the
Fortuna
’s crew, and the moment they saw the women a shout went up. Asdribar laughed as the sailors waved and blew kisses, but he swiftly got control of himself and spoke a few words to the captain, who eventually quietened his men. The leering continued, however, with even the rowers peering out through the oar holes.

‘Come, Clara,’ said Annia, leading her maid over to the deckhouse as several jovial exchanges broke out across the water between the sailors. Asdribar and the other captain were talking in Punic, occasionally pointing along the channel towards Cnossus.

Cassius walked over to him and waited for a break in the conversation. ‘Will you ask about the
Cartenna
?’

‘Of course.’

When the captain relayed Asdribar’s query to his crew, several men spoke up. Asdribar translated for Cassius. ‘The
Cartenna
came in yesterday – it was moored not far from them.’

‘And the passenger? Dio. He is a small man, hooded cloak, carrying a—’

‘Yes, I know. I asked. Apparently he was going from ship to ship, trying to find passage off the island. Two of Valtava’s men spoke to him.’

Captain Valtava shouted across the water again. He pointed to a bare-chested crewman, who took up the tale.

‘What’s he saying?’ Cassius asked impatiently.

Asdribar was too busy listening to reply.

Braving the attentions of the sailors, Annia returned to the side-rail.

When the sailor finished, Asdribar continued: ‘That fellow was drinking with a friend of his last night – navigator on an Egyptian merchantman called the
Isis
. His captain agreed to take Dio.’

‘Where?’

‘That’s the thing,’ said Asdribar. ‘The captain was paid a considerable sum but on condition that only he could know where they were going. The crew weren’t to find out until they were at sea. This navigator and some of the others weren’t happy about it, but the captain was offering double pay.’

‘When did they leave?’

‘A couple of hours ago.’

‘The ship we saw,’ said Annia.

‘Yes, miss.’

‘By the gods,’ said Cassius, smacking the side-rail. ‘We almost had the son of a bitch.’

‘We could not have got here sooner,’ said Asdribar.

‘We must go after them,’ insisted Annia.

Cassius stared down at the water. He had expected to be in Cnossus harbour within the hour. The thought of heading out to sea again – after a ship that might be headed anywhere – was a deeply unpleasant prospect.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I suppose we must.’

Valtava spoke again to Asdribar.

‘He says the
Isis
is a grain freighter. She’s bigger than the
Fortuna
. Quicker too.’

‘You told me your ship was fast, Captain,’ said Annia.

‘She’s the fastest there is, for her size. But the
Isis
has forty or fifty feet on us, perhaps double the sail area.’

‘Then we should not delay,’ Annia replied.

Asdribar rubbed his brow. ‘Miss, the
Isis
was heading west towards the other end of the island. If they’re not headed for Greece, they could be bound for anywhere, even—’

‘Africa,’ said Annia flatly. ‘Yes. I know.’

Asdribar came closer, so that the rest of the crew wouldn’t hear. ‘Miss, that’s two hundred miles of open sea. I’ve done the journey many times in the season, but if the weather turns bad there are no islands, no ports or anchorages. Nowhere to go.’

‘We know where we are going,’ countered Annia. ‘We are following the
Isis
. Captain, I didn’t secure your services with the expectation that you would baulk at the first sign of difficulty. More days at sea mean a very full bag of gold coins.’

Asdribar looked up at the mast. ‘There is almost no wind.’

Annia pointed across at the
Rusucurru
. ‘The
Fortuna
also has oars, does it not?’

‘Miss, I did explain that I don’t have a full crew. We might only make three knots.’

‘That’s three knots more than we’re making now.’

Cassius had listened to the whole conversation and conceded to himself that Annia was undeniably impressive when she got the bit between her teeth.

Asdribar spoke again to his fellow captain, then reported back once more.

‘Valtava knows these waters well. He says the mist won’t have spread out much further than a mile. They are heading north and will give us a tow while we get the yard down and ready the oars.’

‘Excellent,’ said Annia. ‘Thank you, Captain.’

Valtava’s local knowledge and the ability of his crew were soon proved beyond doubt. The well-drilled oarsmen of the
Rusucurru
seemed barely troubled by the additional burden of the
Fortuna Redux
; soon both ships were cutting across the pond-like sea, beyond the last wreaths of the Cretan mist and out into the watery midday sunshine. Tarkel, still at the top of the mast, had just sighted the
Isis
.

‘How far?’ yelled Asdribar.

‘Ten miles, give or take.’

‘At what distance will we lose sight of it?’ Cassius asked.

‘Twelve or thirteen.’

Belatedly realising he hadn’t got a description from the two crewmen who’d been approached by Dio, Cassius then spent a fairly surreal half-hour sitting at the
Fortuna
’s bow, conducting a shouted interview with them as they stood on either side of the
Rusucurru
’s sternpost.

He soon concluded that the assassin was well suited to his work. His lack of height seemed to be his only notable physical feature and the two men could offer little more than Drusus Viator had on Rhodes. The sailors did at least remember – after repeated questioning – that he was clean-shaven, with short, black hair; not particularly handsome or ugly; not particularly dark-skinned or light-skinned; and spoke good Greek with no discernible accent.

Just as Cassius finished questioning them, Asdribar came forward to oversee the detaching of the tow rope. The
Rusucurru
slowed, then was stopped dead by the oarsmen, and as the
Fortuna
drifted up behind her, the rope was hauled in by Korinth.

Asdribar was carrying one of the barrels of cinnamon wine, around which he had wrapped a length of rope. Seeing it, Valtava grinned, then held up a little cloth package tied with twine. With a mighty heave, Asdribar sent the barrel into the water a couple of yards from the
Rusucurru
’s broad stern. One of the crew grabbed a boathook and retrieved it. Valtava waited until the still-drifting
Fortuna
was only four or five yards away, then threw the package to Asdribar, who snatched it out of the air with ease. Once Valtava had ordered the oarsmen back to work, the freighter began to pull away. The two Carthaginians kept up their conversation as sailors from both vessels shouted farewells.

Without thinking about it, Cassius waved. Valtava returned the gesture and shouted in Greek: ‘Good luck, Roman! Make sure you pay him what he’s due!’

‘Not my problem,’ Cassius said quietly, before turning to Asdribar. ‘Why the exchange of gifts?’

‘It’s traditional for a meeting at sea,’ said Asdribar, examining the contents of the package.

‘What’s in there?’

‘Dried camel meat. Carthaginian speciality. You can try some later.’

‘Mmm.’

As they walked back along the deck, the five long oars poking out of each side of the
Fortuna
’s hull began to move. Opilio was in charge of the rowing team, which was in fact every member of the crew apart from Squint and Asdribar. Even young Tarkel had been drafted – he was to beat the timing drum. As the ship picked up speed, Asdribar cast a concerned glance at the hatch. ‘They’ve not done a lot of oar-work recently. I shall have to go easy on them. I usually just wait for a wind, unless time is of the essence.’

‘A hard taskmaster, young Annia,’ Cassius replied.

Asdribar grinned. ‘I thought Roman girls were supposed to be seen and not heard.’

‘They are.’

To the relief of all aboard, the breeze increased steadily throughout the afternoon and, after only three hours under oars, the sails were back up again, filling well and driving the
Fortuna
westward.

They lost sight of the
Isis
just before sunset and Asdribar called in later to tell Cassius there was no sign of a light. Like the other passengers and the crew, he would have to wait until dawn to find out if their prey had disappeared.

At the fifth hour of the following day, with another bout of mist finally clearing, the
Fortuna Redux
rounded the western cape of Crete. The only sign of life on the bleak, undulating headland were five tall flagpoles. There were flags on only two of them – nothing more than shredded bits of cloth, sapped long ago of any trace of colour.

Every passing hour seemed to add strength to the wind blasting from the north, propelling the
Fortuna
across the white-topped waves at close to her maximum speed. The only disadvantage was the constant strain on the mast, the yard and the rest of the rig. Most of the crew were needed to keep the mainsail correctly aligned; Korinth and Squint patrolled anxiously across the deck, checking blocks and lines, rings and knots. The little tender was thumping around on the waves and taking on water – it had already been bailed out twice.

A mile to the south-east were two small vessels that Asdribar had already dismissed as local fishing boats. Ahead was only a vast swathe of sea. Cassius recalled a phrase of Squint’s that had stayed with him:
A huge, grey swell that rolls on forever.

‘Hurry then!’ shouted Korinth to Tarkel, who was halfway up the mast.

‘Leave the lad be,’ said Asdribar. ‘Poor little sod’s been up and down there like a monkey. Do you want him to fall?’

Cassius licked salt off his lips and tried not to watch Tarkel’s perilous progress upward. The boy had a rope around him but the pitching of the ship made his climb doubly difficult. Indavara and Annia were to Cassius’s left, like him leaning against the deckhouse with one hand on the wooden bar that ran around it. Annia was wrapped up in a cloak and gazing contemplatively at the bow as it dipped and rose with the waves.

Cassius considered what might happen if the lad couldn’t see the
Isis
.
If the
Fortuna
turned
round, the wind would be against them. How long back to Rhodes? Four, five days? Could easily be a week or longer. And what then?

He wondered how it had all come down to this. Was there more he could have done? All things considered, he doubted it. In fact, he was pretty sure the assassin would have got clean away if he hadn’t been there to take charge. Surely the gods had had a hand in that; and it wasn’t the first time he’d found himself unceremoniously thrust to the centre of some important affair. Perhaps it was time for him to take his duties less seriously, allow himself to fail – at least that way he might avoid such assignments in future.

Cassius could almost see his father’s face, as if the old man could hear his thoughts. The furrowed brow, the interrogative glare; that awful combination of disappointment and anger. Not do one’s duty? Heresy in the Corbulo household.

Cassius imagined what would be happening there, half a world away. Late morning. Father would be finishing up his work for the day, sending out a last few messages, listening to reports from his numerous employees, looking forward to an hour or two at the baths. Mother would be overseeing things at the house: doling out instructions to the gardeners, discussing dinner with the cooks. Perhaps one of Cassius’s sisters would bring some of the grandchildren over after school?