The Far Shore (46 page)

By the time they emerged from the other side of the marsh, Indavara had been through a dozen different plans, none of which stood any real chance of success. As long as Carnifex kept his distance and that blade at Annia’s neck there was nothing he could do except bide his time, look for an opportunity.

Corbulo should have let me kill him.

Indavara barely noticed the sky lightening around him or the track ahead; all he could see was Annia on the floor of the hut, squirming under Carnifex’s boot. He imagined that blade sliding into her neck; life draining out of her.

Indavara was certain of one thing: he would keep her alive, or die trying.

Cassius’s hands formed fists as he walked. They had been so close. What had she done? Watched Eborius from the ship? Followed him to the hut, just to see the man responsible for her father’s death?

Stupid, arrogant, headstrong little bitch.

All three of them would pay for it; he was sure of that. What had Indavara said? You can’t give a man like that a second chance. Now he had it; and when Cassius thought of what the savage centurion might do to them, his throat dried and his legs almost buckled.

I should have let Indavara kill him.

Carnifex kept them moving and kept them in front of him: Cassius ten paces ahead, Indavara five. They walked on towards the Via Cyrenaica in silence, apart from an occasional whimper from Annia or a grunted order from Carnifex. Once she hissed a curse at him, but whatever he did by way of response kept her quiet for the remainder of the journey.

When they reached the road, Carnifex directed them east towards the town until they came to an old wall at the edge of a field. He ordered Cassius and Indavara to kneel down behind it, facing the road. Cassius turned and watched him position himself behind a nearby tree, with Annia sitting beside him.

‘I told you eyes front, Streak!’

Cassius could see part of the road through a hole in the wall. The first people to pass were two middle-aged local men whose horses galloped by, heading west out of town. A quarter of an hour later, six legionaries appeared from the opposite direction. They looked exhausted, trudging along in silence with their heads down.

‘Ha!’ cried Carnifex.

The men stopped and looked at the tree.

‘It’s him!’

‘It’s the centurion!’

‘Over here,’ ordered Carnifex.

Cassius heard the men scrabbling over the wall, then watched them drop to the ground close by.

‘Belletor, Salonius, run into town and find me some horses and a cart.’

‘Sir!’

Two of the men sprinted away.

‘Marius, take hold of this one for me. Streak, One Ear – stand up. Keep facing the wall.’

Cassius and Indavara got to their feet.

Cassius heard a rush of movement behind him. Something thumped into his back and he was thrown forward. He cried out as his thighs and groin struck the sharp edges of the wall. Thick fingers gripped his neck and smacked his head down on to the cold rock. He heard a hollow thump and lights burst in his eyes.

Cassius thought he might faint but the brightness faded away. He was left lying on the wall, watching as Carnifex moved on to Indavara, who had turned round to face him.

‘Got to get me some of your blood, remember, boy? You know what bleeds a lot?’

Indavara brought his hands up but the centurion caught him cold.

He drove his forehead down into Indavara’s, knocking the smaller man backwards into the wall.

‘The head.’

Some of the men laughed. Cassius blinked away the sweat in his eyes. Indavara was lying flat, stretched out on the top of the wall. The blood came quickly, running down over his brow, his cheek, then on to the pale grey rock below.

The irony of their reversal of fortune was not lost on Cassius as he lay on his side under a blanket, hands bound, staring down at the muddy contours of the road. It hadn’t taken long for the soldiers to return with a cart and now they were on the Via Roma, already well past the gorge and presumably headed for the mansion. Cassius wedged his foot against the other side of the cart to stay as still as possible. The pain from his head had lessened but every bump seemed to rattle through his skull. Indavara was in a worse state, he knew, but when Cassius had turned to check on him and Annia, the legionary guarding them had poked him with his sword.

He thought about rolling out of the back of the cart. Assuming he could even get back up on his feet, with his hands tied he wouldn’t be going anywhere fast. And even if he could get away, they were far from Eborius and the men of the Second Century. In any case, he could hardly leave Indavara and Annia; the three of them would share the same fate now.

The road ran up and down a series of short, steep ridges. At the peak of one, Cassius got a good look at Darnis and estimated they were at least five miles from the town. They had passed scores of fields (the vast majority untended and overgrown), several empty hamlets, even a handful of roadside inns, yet he hadn’t seen a single person.

The cart turned right off the road and under an arch. On either side of it was a high wall running hundreds of feet in both directions. Just after Cassius heard the horses’ hooves clatter on stone, they came to a halt in a courtyard.

The blanket was pulled away and a foul-breathed legionary grabbed him by the tunic and hauled him out of the cart. If Cassius hadn’t quickly swung his legs down he would have fallen flat on his back. Another legionary pulled him upright and held on to him as two more of them dragged Indavara out. The skin had opened up nastily on his forehead and matted, blood-soaked hair stuck to his brow, but – to Cassius’s immense relief – the green eyes were still bright and alert.

‘Careful with her,’ said Carnifex, striding over as the men lowered a wriggling Annia to the ground. ‘We don’t get tender white meat like that very often.’

The men laughed along with him.

‘To the barn. Salonius, go and get one of the girls to rustle me up some wine and a bit to eat.’

‘Sir.’

‘Where are Procyon and Mutilus?’

‘Not back yet, sir.’

‘Send them to me when they are.’

With two men to guard Cassius and four surrounding Indavara, Carnifex took hold of Annia himself and led them into a stable, past a series of empty but well-maintained stalls. They passed through another courtyard and into a barn.

‘What’s that stench?’ said the centurion. Ahead was a wide door, the bottom of which was obscured by the straw that covered much of the barn’s floor. The wall to the right was adorned with every type of metallic tool imaginable: rakes, knives, spikes, saws, scythes. To the left, hanging by chains from one of the five large nails hammered into the wall, was a man, or rather what had once been a man.

The face was a sagging, rotten horror. Further down, bits of bone and stringy muscle could be seen beneath the greying flesh and torn tunic. Below the body, the straw was covered with a green-brown sludge.

‘Who was that?’ asked Carnifex.

‘The, er, barley farmer, sir,’ said one of the men. ‘Didn’t pay his pasture dues. What was the name again?’

The other legionaries shrugged or shook their heads.

‘Well whoever he was, he stinks,’ said Carnifex. ‘Get that bloody door open.’

One of the men gestured towards the body. ‘Should we put it in the pit, sir?’

‘You want to poison him, you prick? No, we’ll have something fresh for him before long. Bury it.’

Two soldiers set about removing the body.

Carnifex pointed at Cassius and Indavara. ‘Hang ’em up.’

They were led over to the wall.

‘Bring me those chairs.’

Once a legionary had done his bidding, Carnifex sat Annia down facing the wall, her bound hands in her lap.

Not for the first time in his life, Cassius was grateful for being tall. He reckoned the nails were about seven feet off the floor. The men had stretched his arms high and dropped the rope tying his wrists over the nail, but he could easily touch the floor. Carnifex shook his head as he watched his legionaries struggle to get Indavara up high enough. Three of them eventually managed it, though the toes of Indavara’s boots were barely supporting his weight. He’d made no attempt to resist or even curse at them. Cassius hoped he was saving his strength.

‘You lot – disappear,’ ordered Carnifex.

The legionaries helped the other two with the body and left through the newly opened door. Beyond was a sunlit section of grass enclosed by a cactus hedge.

Carnifex sat down and leant back in the chair, arms crossed. He turned and looked at Annia. Her hair had come loose and hung down over her face. She had lost her stola and her pert breasts were visible through her tunic.

‘Mmm,’ said the old centurion. ‘There’s women, then there’s girls.’

A soldier arrived with a jug of wine and a plate of bread and cheese. Carnifex pointed at the floor next to his chair. Once the soldier had put the food and drink down, he left. After a few more moments spent staring at his captives, Carnifex picked up the jug and drank noisily.

‘Sore throat,’ he said, standing up when he’d swallowed half of it. ‘That’s what comes of having some stinking rag in your mouth for twelve hours.’ He took another mouthful of wine and spat it at Indavara.

‘How you doing, One Ear?’

As the wine ran down over the still-drying blood, Indavara looked at him.

Carnifex grinned. ‘I’m guessing knocking me about with that stave is starting to seem like a pretty bad decision, eh?’

‘Yes,’ said Indavara. ‘I should have stuck you with a blade and had done with it.’

Carnifex laughed, and turned to Cassius. ‘I do like him.’

He sat back down, grabbed a hunk of bread and started chewing his way through it.

‘I’m so sorry,’ Annia said quietly, head bowed.

‘You should be, Beautiful,’ said Carnifex. ‘Otherwise these two might just have got away with it. What were you doing on Rhodes, Streak? The truth – or Beautiful here won’t keep her name for long. I’m not a big face man.’

Carnifex reached over and tweaked Annia’s left breast. She let out a little cry and managed to drag the chair a few inches away.

Cassius cursed Carnifex, then the girl, then himself, for ever allowing her to set foot on the
Fortuna Redux
.

‘I was there to meet Memor,’ he said. ‘I arrived at the house the day after Nicasias killed him.’

‘Lucky.’

‘That’s not the word I’d use.’

Carnifex tucked in to the lump of cheese.

Cassius doubted he would get another chance to reason with him, though he knew his chances of success were negligible.

‘Centurion, I’m a realist. I’m not going to pretend my position is a strong one. But neither is yours. The Service know I’m here. If they don’t hear from me soon they will come here and they will retaliate. You may think you’re untouchable, but I can assure you, you’re not.’

Carnifex didn’t bother to finish his mouthful of cheese before replying. ‘Streak, no one gets post out from here. Which means if you did contact your masters, you sent a letter from Rhodes. You telling me you already knew then that Nicasias was on his way back to Darnis?’

Cassius was ready for that one. ‘Your assassin friend talked too much. To a thief named Drusus Viator – on the ship that brought them to Rhodes from Paphos. My superior is named Aulus Celatus Abascantius. He was friends with Memor, as was Chief Pulcher – I’m sure you know that name – and when they find out the girl’s missing too, I think there’ll be a ship full of troops arriving here pretty soon.’