The Far Shore (31 page)

Cassius was already working on a plan, but when the crew asked for more food a little later, he realised an immediate opportunity had presented itself. He hurried to the hatch and down the steps, relieved to note that everyone else was occupied: Asdribar was steering, deep in conversation with Annia; Simo was hanging wet clothes on the side-rail; and Indavara was helping the sailors.

In the end, no one had put themselves forward for lookout duty, but Desenna had volunteered to check the integrity of the mast and make the few minor repairs needed before they could raise the spare yard. Once at the top, he had seen a ship to the south, though it was no more than a speck on the horizon. They couldn’t be sure it was the
Isis
,
but Asdribar had changed course, commenting that there were unlikely to be many other vessels at sea. They would just have to follow as best they could.

Down below, some of the crew were still clearing water. Just beyond the steps, Opilio and another man were pushing the excess into the sluices with wide brushes, while another team could be heard singing lustily as they cleared the lower hold.

Cassius hurried along the passageway, also glad that young Tarkel had been moved into Squint’s quarters. Apparently the lad had said a few words and even managed a bit of breakfast. The crew had all insisted on checking on him and Simo had eventually been forced to ask Asdribar to ban visitors.

Cassius stuck his head into the galley and checked it was empty, then went inside the cabin. He wedged the door open with his foot, ran a hand through his hair and waited.

Clara came along not long after, carrying the empty tray.

‘Hello,’ said Cassius. ‘As you’re on your way to the galley, perhaps you’d collect my dirty crockery for me?’

He pointed to the single mug on the table by the bed.

Clara looked at the mug, then glanced back along the empty passageway.

‘Won’t take a moment,’ Cassius assured her.

Keeping her expression neutral, she walked past him into the cabin. Cassius pulled his foot away and the door slammed shut. He took the tray from her and put it on the bed.

Clara looked up at him. He watched her running her eyes over the features of his face. They came to rest on his mouth.

‘Do you think I’m handsome, Clara?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘You can call me Cassius. Do you think I’m handsome?’

‘I think you’re very handsome, Cassius.’

He had asked that question of a lot of women, numerous maids amongst them; often enough to know the difference between a real yes and a fake yes.

He ran a finger softly up her neck. ‘You won’t tell your mistress about this, will you, Clara? I don’t think that would be helpful for anybody.’

She shook her head.

Cassius bent forward and kissed her on the lips. Clara opened her mouth wide and drew in his tongue, licking at it with her own. He pulled her to him and ran his hand across her bottom, squeezing the soft flesh.
Clara sighed.

Cassius turned her around, grabbed her waist and pulled her in close again. His cupped her heavy breasts in his hands and kissed her lightly on the neck.

‘You like that, don’t you, Clara?’

She nodded, mouth open.

‘Cassius,’ he whispered.

‘I like it, Cassius.’

Just as he found her nipples with his fingers, someone came striding down the passageway. They both froze as the interloper reached the door, but the footsteps went on into the galley. Clara tried to free herself but Cassius held on tight, one arm round her waist, one across her chest. Whoever it was came out of the galley and hurried back along the passageway.

‘I should go, sir,’ Clara breathed.

Cassius agreed; no sense pushing his luck. He turned her round again and took one last kiss, then let go and opened the cabin door. ‘I do hope that we can find a time and place for another such meeting, Clara. Do you?’

She rearranged her hair and picked up the tray before replying. ‘I do, sir.’

‘I told you to call me Cassius. We are after all quite well acquainted now.’

The pink flush of the girl’s cheeks made Cassius grin. Clara walked out into the passageway and he shut the door behind her. Still smiling, he leant back against the wall.

He felt good. The nausea was gone, the ship had survived the night, and, for the briefest moment, all thoughts of Africa and what awaited them there had been forgotten.

If the dark times he’d faced over the last few years had taught him anything, it was that you took your pleasures when and where you could find them, and as far as he was concerned, there was no greater pleasure than getting one’s hands on a compliant young woman.

He wandered over to the table, took a swig of wine straight from the bottle and whispered to himself: ‘Who needs ladies?’

By midday the spare yard was up and – other than the broken spar lashed to the deck – there were few visible signs of what the
Fortuna
had endured. Once the hold was clear of water, Asdribar rotated duties so that his exhausted crew could get some rest.

And when Desenna scaled the mast again just before sundown, and announced that he could not only still see what they hoped was the
Isis
but also a distant coastline, relief spread swiftly through the ship. Even those who had been sleeping roused themselves and – while Asdribar finally allowed himself a break – Squint led a ceremony of thanks to the gods. Annia, Clara and Indavara all attended, gathering by the altars with the sailors. Before leaving them to it and taking himself off to the bow, Cassius noted two things. The first was Indavara showing particular reverence whenever Poseidon’s name was mentioned, the second that he was standing next to Korinth. The night’s events had evidently brought an end to any remaining antagonism.

As he wandered past the hatch, Cassius ruminated on why he hadn’t stayed to give thanks. It seemed he was experiencing yet another change of heart concerning matters divine. So, apparently the gods had spared them. The others wanted to show their gratitude, ensure they reached land unharmed. Perhaps they were also considering their return journey (Cassius didn’t even want to think about that). For him, the ceremony seemed rather pointless.

They were after all engaged in a just and noble mission – the investigation of a brutal murder. Yet the gods had chosen to hinder rather than help. In such circumstances, who could assume that a gesture to the heavens would produce any effect whatsoever?

When this latest assignment was over, Cassius decided, he would either embark on a consistent and genuine programme of worship or forgo such efforts for ever. To do neither one nor the other seemed foolish, and he castigated himself for not confronting the issue earlier. He suspected he would opt for the former, though the latter remained an option taken by a few. His now deceased grandfather had been one, though after the old man passed away, his wife had revealed that he’d continued to make offerings to the gods in private.

Shaking his head at the frustration of it all, Cassius ducked under the bottom of the mainsail and passed the two men left in charge of it. There was only a slight chop on the sea and the
Fortuna
was cutting along quite smoothly; he could walk along the deck with his hands tucked into his belt. He stopped close to the bow and gazed at the horizon. If that was the
Isis
ahead of them, where was she headed?

He had spent some of the afternoon with Asdribar, examining his navigation book and a few well-worn maps. Directly south of the western cape of Crete was the African province of Cyrenaica, a region dominated by the Five Cities – the Pentapolis. Served by the port of Apollonia, Cyrene itself was the biggest. This was the
Isis’s
most likely destination; there were no other major ports for hundreds of miles either east or west along the coast.

Cassius considered what little he knew of Cyrenaica. The territory had belonged to Rome for more than three centuries and – like much of Africa – enjoyed relative peace and prosperity. One local product in particular, the medicinal herb silphium – which was also purported to have aphrodisiac qualities – had contributed to the early prosperity of the city. Recent history had been less kind. Cassius reckoned the earthquake had been about ten years ago and he recalled one of his teachers discussing how much of Cyrene itself had been devastated. The scholar had suggested that, as a consequence, the city’s best days were now well behind it.

Was this forgotten province the lair of whoever had struck out at Memor from afar? Sent Dio to kill a man who had done him harm? Cassius thought again of the assassin, still with that rotting head in his hand; not standing in a sea cave now, but walking away into the yellow haze of the desert.

Cassius intended to sleep for most of the next morning, so was somewhat annoyed to be woken at the second hour. Reaching for his mug of water – which Simo duly passed to him – he sat up and yawned.

‘What’s going on?’

‘I assumed you’d want to be told, sir.’

‘Told what?’

‘The ship isn’t headed to Apollonia, sir.’

‘What? Where else is there?’

‘Apparently a town to the east named Darnis. We should arrive there this afternoon. The ship
is approaching the coast now.’

Despite this development, Cassius fell instantly back into sleep and when he eventually rose at the sixth hour, he wondered if he had imagined the conversation with Simo. The Gaul confirmed he hadn’t.

Once he was up, Cassius felt as well rested and strong as he had in days. Despite the uncertainty that lay ahead, his relief that land was close verged on the euphoric. He completed Indavara’s blade exercises, washed, then downed a large, tasty lunch of dried sardines and stewed vegetables. Stepping up out of the hatch, he found the Fortuna bathed in brilliant sunshine. Gulls were wheeling and squawking high above the stern.

‘Where is everyone?’

Squint, who was steering, thrust his jaw towards the bow. ‘That ship’s come back out again. Looks like the
Isis
.’

Cassius hurried forward and took his place at the starboard side-rail with Asdribar, Annia, Korinth and Indavara. Young Tarkel was there too, wrapped up in a blanket. All five were examining the ship now heading east towards Egypt. Her light brown sails were full and the wind at her flank was causing her to heel over at a steep angle.

Dead ahead – no more than four or five miles away – lay Africa. The coastline was a mix of white beaches and rocky headlands. Beyond Darnis’s small harbour lay the town: a cluster of pale buildings surrounded by fields of gold, yellow and innumerable shades of green.

‘Broad stern. Egyptian rig on the headsail,’ said Asdribar. ‘That’s her.’

Annia looked despairingly to the heavens. ‘Again we arrive just in time to see a ship leave.’

‘Yes,’ said Cassius. ‘But it was hired by a man who seemed to know exactly where he wanted to go. I’ll wager our friend Dio got off.’

‘Might have stopped for repairs after the storm,’ offered Korinth.

‘Possibly,’ replied Cassius. ‘But if that’s so, they completed them remarkably quickly. What do we know about Darnis?’

‘Not much,’ said Asdribar. ‘Other than the harbour’s a useful spot if you get caught in bad weather. Remote and isolated. Cyrene is the closest city – fifty miles to the west.’

‘Army presence?’

‘No idea.’

Annia tapped the side-rail with her hand and turned to face Cassius. ‘Should we make for the harbour?’

‘We don’t have a lot of choice, miss,’ said Asdribar. ‘The spare yard is a temporary measure. It wouldn’t stand up to a battering half as bad as that storm.’

‘Captain, if we stop here and my father’s killer is aboard that ship, all is lost.’

Cassius glanced at the
Isis
again. ‘What are the chances they know we followed them from Crete?’

‘They may have seen us on the first day,’ replied Asdribar, ‘but from then they were only visible from the masthead.’

‘So the same would be true for us?’ Cassius asked.

‘Exactly.’

‘We’ve no chance of catching them?’ interjected Indavara.

Asdribar shook his head. ‘Not even with a full rig. We’ve done well to keep pace.’

‘Could we signal them?’ Cassius asked.

‘Yes,’ said the captain, ‘it’s a clear day. But they might not see it. And they probably wouldn’t stop even if they did.’

Cassius looked back at Darnis. ‘On the balance of probability, I think Dio has left the ship. The town sounds like an ideal place to lose oneself and he may not even be aware of our pursuit. It would make sense for the captain of the
Isis
to head for his next destination while the weather holds.’

‘And if Dio didn’t get off?’ asked Annia.

‘Then we’ll have to see about finding stables and a local guide, miss, for we shall require overland transport to Egypt.’