The Far Shore (15 page)

‘Now hand me that cloak.’

A quarter of an hour later, Cassius and Indavara were ensconced in a booth in one corner of The Sea Serpent
.
With its small, grilled windows and the overcast sky outside, the inn was shrouded in gloom. Even so, it was easy to see that every one of the two dozen patrons made his living on the water: weathered faces; sun-bleached hair; thick, marked, blistered fingers. A group in one corner were on to the third verse of some nautical song. From what Cassius could gather, the tune celebrated the end of the sailing season and expressed gratitude to the gods that the singers had survived it.

Even though it was barely midday, the man sitting opposite him was nursing a huge mug of wine. ‘Squint’ was well named; Cassius could have picked him out even amongst his fellow seamen. His left eye was almost completely closed, his right bloodshot and yellowed. His thick beard – like his wispy hair – was the colour of fresh snow, apart from the strands dyed wine-red above his mouth. His arms lay on the table, encircling his mug. The wrinkled, leathery skin was reminiscent of old fruit and made it hard to read the words tattooed in green ink between his elbows and wrists. Cassius had decided it was probably a list of the ships he’d served on.

‘You wanted to talk, Roman,’ he croaked. ‘Talk.’

‘Tell me about the
Fortuna Redux
.’

‘You’ve never heard of her, boy?’

‘Should I have?’ Cassius replied impatiently, moving his wet cloak to the side of the bench he was sharing with Indavara.

‘The
Fortuna
’s the ship that did the Carthago Nova run in twelve days.’

‘I’m sure that’s very impressive, but what I really want to know is whether your vessel is available for hire.’

‘Now?’

‘Immediately. I need to get to Crete. Just three passengers but we must leave today.’

‘That’s up to the captain, boy.’

‘Would you mind not calling me “boy”. I’m an officer of the Roman Army, with a rank equivalent to centurion.’

Squint took a noisy slurp from his mug before answering. ‘Well done, lad.’

Indavara chuckled.

‘I need to see this captain of yours at once,’ insisted Cassius. ‘What’s his name – Asdribar?’

‘That’s right.’

‘Will you take me to him?’

Squint raised his mug. ‘Soon as I’ve finished this.’

The innkeeper came to the table and gave Cassius and Indavara the glasses of hot wine they’d ordered.

‘Drink up quickly,’ Cassius told Indavara, as he undid the top of his money bag.

The inn door clattered open. A gust of wind blew in and a bottle smashed on the floor. Tutting, the innkeeper looked at the mess next to his bar.

The booth was the fourth of four situated to the right of the door, which Cassius and Indavara were facing away from. Cassius turned, leant round the side of the booth and watched five men walk in. The innkeeper pointed at the first of them: a squat, buck-toothed ruffian with two swords on his belt.

‘Rassus, you’re barred – remember!’

‘I’m not here for drink. We’re after this foreigner – he beat up an old priest at the temple of Poseidon. Sergeants aren’t doing shit so we and the rest of the guild have decided to deal with him ourselves.’

Cassius turned back and looked at Indavara, who mouthed: ‘Hardly touched him.’

‘Big bastard apparently,’ added Rassus, ‘but he’s easily recognised – only got one ear. Anyone seen him?’

Because of where he was sitting, Indavara’s disfigured left ear was visible only to Squint and the innkeeper. Squint didn’t appear to have noticed.

Cassius felt Indavara reaching for his sword. He put his hand on the bodyguard’s wrist and glanced up at the innkeeper.

‘Well?’ said Rassus. ‘No one seen nothing?’

The innkeeper looked at Indavara. He had noticed the ear. Turning his attention to Cassius, he widened his eyes speculatively.

Cassius reached into his money bag and placed three denarii on the corner of the table.

The innkeeper looked at the money, then back at the gang.

Cassius added three more denarii.

‘No one’s seen this cocksucker then?’ demanded Rassus. ‘He must have been round the port.’

The innkeeper looked back at Cassius and subtly held out four fingers.

Shaking his head, Cassius added four more coins.

At last, the innkeeper spoke up: ‘That sounds like a no to me. Why don’t you go and disturb someone else’s customers?’

With a grunt, Rassus and his cronies left. As the door slammed shut, Indavara moved his hand away from his sword. Cassius leant back and sighed.

Squint finished off his wine and set down his mug. He then watched in amazement as the innkeeper slid the ten silver coins off the table into his hand and walked away, smirking.

The old sailor tapped his mug. ‘
This
was only a sesterce.’

Cassius shrugged. ‘Inflation.’

Despite its supposedly legendary reputation, at first sight the
Fortuna Redux
didn’t particularly impress. The ship was small for a freighter and the green paint of the hull had faded almost to grey. Under the bowsprit was a wooden rendering of Fortuna herself. The goddess had lost her nose and one breast and the only trace of colour left was the odd patch of yellow in her hair. In fact, she was really only identifiable by the outstretched hands cupping a stack of coins.

‘Ninety-five-foot long, twenty-three wide,’ stated Squint proudly as they walked along the narrow breakwater towards the vessel’s stern. ‘With a deep keel to keep her upright.’

‘Always helps,’ observed Cassius.

‘She can carry a hundred tons fully laden and make seven knots with all her sails up and a fair wind.’

‘Sure it’s ready to leave today?’ asked Cassius.

‘Maybe – if the captain says yes and we can get the crew together. See the tall mast? We had it extended a few years back.’

‘Doesn’t that make the ship more unstable?’

‘A bit, but worth it for the extra speed.’

Unlike the freighter they’d arrived on, the
Fortuna
also had a second, smaller mast, close to the bow. At about forty feet, it was half the size of the main mast and virtually identical in dimensions to the yard, which was currently lying on the deck.

Despite its condition, Cassius had to acknowledge there was a certain elegance to the ship’s design, with its sleek lines and sharp, narrow bow. The hull also tapered slightly towards the stern but was made broader by the winglike housings for the steering rudders. Tied to the rear of the ship was a solidly built tender about fifteen feet long.

The sternpost was more conventional than the bow: a goose-head design with two blue dots for the eyes. Forward of this was the deckhouse, one of the largest Cassius had seen. It was six feet high and stretched across almost the entire width of the deck. There were small windows on either side and a door more befitting a villa than a ship.

‘That’s the captain’s quarters,’ said Squint as he led them across a slippery, squeaking gangplank. ‘I’ll see if I can rouse him.’

Ten feet forward of the deckhouse was the main hatch, currently protected from the rain by a tent-like cover. Voices drifted up from below.

The deckhouse door opened and lamp smoke swirled out into the damp air. Squint said a few words then moved aside. Standing in the doorway was a bald, strong-jawed, blue-eyed man with the type of face it was difficult not to look at. He smiled at Cassius.

‘This must be my lucky day. Good afternoon, sir.’

‘Good afternoon, Captain. Might I speak with you?’

‘Of course,’ replied Asdribar warmly. ‘However – and you must forgive the pun – I’m afraid you’ve missed the boat if you wish to hire the
Fortuna
.’

‘Oh.’

‘Yes, I’m afraid I couldn’t possibly refuse the terms offered, nor a lady in need of assistance.’

Asdribar stepped on to the deck.

Annia came to the door. Despite the vaguely apologetic smile, that fierce determination hadn’t left her eyes.

Cassius ran a hand through his rain-soaked hair.

‘Caesar’s balls.’

The deckhouse of the
Fortuna Redux
was a miracle of compact design. Immediately to the right of the door was a sturdy hardwood table and a stool fixed to the floor. Strewn around a big abacus in the middle of the table were dozens of paper sheets. Above was a rack stuffed with multicoloured flags. Running along the rear of the deckhouse were two narrow, high-sided beds. To the left was another table – this one accommodating jugs, bottles and a bowl of dried fruit. Above it was a cloth hammock slung between two hooks. Every other inch of space was occupied either by an exotic memento or a piece of nautical equipment, some more easily identifiable than others.

Asdribar had just sat down on the stool next to the door, Squint standing beside him. Annia and her maid were sitting on the first bed, Trogus and Indavara on the second, while Cassius and Simo leant against the other table. Cassius had to stretch his legs out to keep his head from touching the roof.

‘So where are we going, Officer?’ asked Annia, looking keenly up at him.

‘I shall address the “we” part of that statement in a moment,’ replied Cassius. ‘But as far as the assassin goes, my best guess is that he departed yesterday aboard a ship named the
Cartenna
, bound for Crete.’

‘Guess?’ queried Annia.

‘Perhaps you have another theory, miss?’

‘Not at all. I would just like to know on what this guess is based.’

Cassius noted a slight grin from Asdribar. Despite the weather, the captain was dressed in only a thin, grey tunic. Though he must have been well over forty, his light beard was jet black, and his bronzed body that of an athlete half his age.

‘Further enquiries are being made,’ said Cassius, ‘but I have questioned this Viator character. It seems the assassin goes by the name of Dio and was interested in travelling on to Crete. I cannot be certain, but it is an educated guess, at least.’

‘I see,’ said Annia.

Cassius addressed Asdribar. ‘The
Cartenna
left yesterday morning. What chance do we have of catching her?’

The captain ran a contemplative finger down his jaw. ‘We’ve a northerly coming in now, which isn’t bad, but yesterday it was more to the east so they’ll have had a nice run.’

‘About a hundred and fifty miles – Crete?’

‘More like two hundred to Cnossus, which is where most ships will put in.’

Cassius grimaced.

‘That’s good, isn’t it?’ suggested Annia. ‘The further it is, the more chance we have of catching them on the open sea. Once the ship reaches land, this man might disappear.’

‘I suppose that’s true,’ said Asdribar.

Cassius couldn’t deny the logic but he was more concerned by the fact that Annia was still saying ‘we’.

‘Which route would you take?’ she asked the captain. ‘East or west?’

Asdribar turned to Squint, who was twisting the end of his beard with his fingers.

‘If this cloud is setting in, west would be better,’ said the old sailor. ‘Keep us away from Krapathos.’

‘What’s at Krapathos?’ asked Cassius.

‘Nothing special,’ replied Asdribar. ‘But it’s an island, with other smaller islands around it, and it’s in our way if we go east around Rhodes. The problem at this time of year is not just the rain, it’s the cloud and the mist – they make navigation very difficult. We have another big problem, actually, my—’

‘Captain,’ interrupted Annia. ‘What’s the earliest we could leave?’

Cassius was on the verge of sending the others outside and putting an immediate end to this charade.

‘Well,’ said Asdribar, ‘we must clear the port in daylight. It’ll be a struggle to get my crew together and some supplies on board, but I’ll make it happen. When can you be ready, miss?’

‘Two or three hours.’

‘And you, sir?’ asked the Carthaginian.

‘Whenever,’ Cassius replied curtly.

‘Excellent,’ said Asdribar. ‘Might I suggest the tenth hour then? If you wish to be present for the ceremonials, come a little earlier.’

‘Very good,’ said Annia, getting up. ‘Thank you, Captain.’

Cassius caught Asdribar’s eye. ‘Might I speak to the young lady alone for a moment?’