The Far Shore (60 page)

They found Annia lying in bed, covered by no less than three blankets. Cassius helped Clara bring over two chairs and though the maid betrayed nothing with her expression, she touched his arm when the other two weren’t looking.

They sat down. Cassius was surprised – and felt strangely proud – when Indavara initiated the conversation.

‘How are you, miss?’

‘Better, thank you. Clara has been wonderful.’

The maid gave yet another of her neat little bows.

‘And you two?’

Though the question was directed at both of them, Annia was gazing at Indavara. Aside from all the bandages, even the exposed areas of his dark skin were heavily marked; new damage upon old.

‘Nothing a bit of rest and some hot food won’t fix, miss.’

Cassius couldn’t help feeling slightly jealous of the look Annia gave the bodyguard then.

She sat up higher in the bed. ‘Officer Corbulo, having had some time to think, I can understand why you didn’t disclose everything to me before. But I would ask that you do so now.’

‘Gladly.’

Cassius described how the investigation had unfolded from the sighting of Dio onwards. Relating the events at the quarry, he spared Annia the worst of Carnifex’s excesses, though he felt he had to tell her that the conspirators had been shown the head as proof of the assassin’s work. Strangely, it wasn’t this that produced the most marked reaction in the girl. That came when Cassius reached the end of his account, explaining how they’d captured Carnifex and taken him to the hut.

Annia looked away and covered her hand with her mouth. It took the attentions of Clara and a little wine before she could recover herself enough to speak. Cassius and Indavara exchanged glances and looked to the door but Annia motioned for them to stay. She took a handkerchief from Clara and wiped her eyes.

‘How different things might have been had I stayed on the ship as you had instructed. Centurion Eborius and those other soldiers …’

Cassius knew a little about guilt; about how it could so easily flourish if it wasn’t nipped in the bud.

‘Miss, Eborius and his men made their choices a long time ago. When it would have been far easier to go along with Carnifex, they chose to stand up to him. Whatever our involvement, such a confrontation was inevitable.’

Cassius wasn’t certain of that, but he was certain Annia needed to hear it. It was right that she should regret her actions, but he couldn’t allow the young woman to shoulder such a burden.

‘Circumstances and the actions of others certainly played their part,’ he continued, ‘but, ultimately, one man is to blame for all the suffering we have witnessed. But thanks to Indavara here, Darnis, Rome and the rest of the world are rid of him.’

Annia dabbed at her eyes with the handkerchief. ‘Hearing of some of the things my father dealt with, I certainly didn’t consider myself an innocent. But I confess I had never expected to see such cruelty, such reckless hate. How could the gods allow it? Allow
him
?’

‘I don’t know, miss,’ said Cassius.

‘I wonder if I shall ever be able to forget that man. That monster.’

Cassius said nothing; he had already spent a considerable amount of time pondering the same question.

‘Forget him, miss,’ said Indavara flatly. ‘Nothing but a bad man who got what was coming to him. Don’t trouble yourself. He’s not worth it.’

Annia seemed to take comfort from Indavara’s words; they gave Cassius pause for thought too.

‘Clara, bring it over now,’ Annia said after a while.

The maid picked up a hardwood box and gave it to her mistress.

Annia opened it, took out two small silver discs and placed them on the bed.

‘I didn’t see my father until I was four years old. He was a centurion then, away fighting with the legions in the East. He gave these to me upon his return, a reward, he said, for me being so brave – with him absent and my mother ailing. As a girl I thought nothing of where they had come from but when I was older I realised they were medals. For valour. I once asked him why he hadn’t given them to his men. A tribune had distributed two each to every centurion after a great battle, asking that they select the men most deserving to receive them. Of my father’s century, only twenty-five had survived. But he said every last one of them deserved it, so he kept them.’

Annia looked up. ‘I should like to give them to you both. A symbol of my gratitude. First, for finding those responsible for my father’s death; second, for getting me out of that awful place.’

‘That is very kind, miss,’ said Cassius, ‘but we cannot accept. Those were given to your father.’

‘You didn’t know him. He would want you to have them. As do I.’

Annia took out one medal and offered it to Indavara. He glanced briefly at Cassius, then took it. ‘Thank you, miss.’

Annia offered the second medal to Cassius.

He stood up. ‘I appreciate the gesture, really, but I cannot accept it. Please excuse me.’

Later, with the singing sailors already in the galley for their own gathering, Indavara sat on the bed once more, running his fingers across the cold silver of the medal. He didn’t care what the inscriptions said, nor did he care about the eagle – even though he knew what it represented. To him it was simply a gift from her, and a symbol of what he had done.

In the arena, he had been applauded and cheered by thousands, but those few words from Annia meant more to him than all of it, as did praise from Corbulo and men like Noster and Captain Asdribar and Master Abascantius.

A gladiator was little better than an animal; a well-trained beast kept only to fight and entertain. But a man – a man had a name, a reputation, a history.

A man needed a family too. Indavara thought of all those people from Darnis, of Noster and his wife; they’d been through so much together, their ties were so strong.

Sometimes at night, lying in the darkness, he would try and summon a face – a brother, a sister, a father, a mother? His mind would play tricks, showing him those he’d known in the arena or since, never someone new or unknown. Someone from before.

Even a place would do. A familiar room or a courtyard perhaps, a river, a field, a forest? But there was nothing.

Indavara was still glad to have told Corbulo. In fact, he was surprised Corbulo hadn’t asked him more about it yet – he talked so much about everything else after all. Indavara hadn’t expected to ever tell anyone, certainly not him. But if they were going to stay together, work together, it was perhaps good that he knew. All the questions could stop – there was no reason to lie, to hide. Now Corbulo knew, perhaps he would understand.

Indavara looked down at the medal and used his tunic to wipe his fingermarks off the silver. This – this was something; something to keep and treasure. It would help him remember too; those few precious moments with Annia.

Once they reached Apollonia he would probably never see her again. The thought tore at him but Corbulo had been right; there was no future in it. Young ladies from rich families didn’t pair off with rough, ignorant men like him. But he believed she liked him and respected him and admired him, and this was enough to bring a smile to his face.

The medal would go in the little pocket he had sewn into his pack, along with the two figurines of Fortuna.

A man had a history. He could make his own history now.

Having eventually dozed off, Indavara was later woken by Simo, who’d come to check his bandages before they joined the others in the deckhouse. Returning to Cassius’s cabin to fetch him, they found him lying on the bed. Simo instantly busied himself by putting away a few odds and ends, but Indavara noticed Cassius wiping his eyes.

‘This damned nose.’

When Simo had finished tidying, he offered Cassius his cloak. ‘Shall we then, sir?’

‘You go ahead, Simo,’ said Indavara.

The Gaul looked to Cassius, who glanced at Indavara.

‘Go on. I can help him up.’

Once Simo had gone, Indavara leant against the wall. ‘Why didn’t you take it?’

‘The medal? Didn’t seem right.’

‘You deserve it as much as I do.’

Cassius just shook his head.

‘This is about the bridge, isn’t it? You’ve told Simo?’

‘I don’t think I can. By the gods, Indavara, the noise of it. And then that silence.’

‘What if they had got across? You were right – the rest of us were too stupid or too scared to even realise it. They would have caught up with us and cut us down in moments. Would you prefer it if we and Eborius and the others had been killed? If they’d taken Annia?’

‘Of course not. Logically … you’re right. I know that. But it doesn’t change the fact that I have to remember it. Live with it. What I did.’

‘
You
didn’t do anything.
We
did. Lose sleep over those bastards if you want. I won’t. Any man that chose to side with Carnifex over Eborius deserved everything he got.’

Cassius gazed up at the black beyond the porthole.

‘So, you coming?’ asked Indavara. ‘I can’t get up those steps on my own.’

Eleven people had crowded into the deckhouse. Annia was sitting up but was still covered with blankets. She had said little and seemed initially to resent the invasion of her quarters, but was now watching with amusement as Noster finally got the chance to have his drinking competition with Asdribar, Squint, Korinth and Opilio. The veteran’s wife seemed almost as keen as the men on the cinnamon wine.

For his part, Cassius had decided to take it slow and amuse himself by exchanging the odd smile with Clara. Like her mistress, the maid had light blue ribbons in her hair.

Indavara pointed at the wall above the beds. Asdribar had already added two new mementos to his collection: a pair of crossed Maseene javelins. ‘All that money spent on weapons and we ended up without a blade between us.’

‘Yes, rather ironic,’ replied Cassius.

‘What about those lessons then?’

‘Well, if you’re willing, we can continue them—’

‘—at the earliest opportunity?’

‘Precisely.’

‘I saw you with that chair by the way,’ Indavara added. ‘Good improvisation.’

‘Like you said – him or me.’

Cassius noted that their glasses were empty. Simo beat him to the jug.

‘No, Simo, allow me.’

‘Very well, sir. None for me, thank you. I’m still recovering from the last time.’

‘Nonsense,’ said Cassius, filling each glass in turn. ‘We have good cause to celebrate. Things might have turned out very, very differently.’

‘
Fortuna Redux
,’ said Indavara thoughtfully. ‘The good luck that brings you home.’

‘Well we eventually had the good luck,’ said Cassius. ‘Home?’ He glanced at Indavara. ‘Well, right now, this feels pretty close to me.’

The three of them clinked their glasses and took a long swig of wine. Noster’s wife asked a question of Simo. He excused himself and turned towards her.

Cassius spied a space under the table and stretched out his legs. ‘I remember back in Antioch – you complaining about how you were getting soft, not seeing enough action to keep you sharp. Had enough for the moment?’

‘More than enough,’ replied Indavara.

‘By the gods, so have I. What a few months – that affair with the flag and then we get dragged into this.’