The Far Shore (54 page)

Indavara almost volunteered but knew he should stay with Annia.

‘I’ll come, sir,’ offered Noster.

‘No,’ said Corbulo. ‘Allow me. I want to see the road for myself.’

‘As you wish,’ said Eborius. ‘I think I know where we can get a good view. The rest of you sit tight. We’ll be back soon.’

At the first sight of the Maseene, Asdribar gave the order. Simo had been down below with Clara – helping the townspeople as they settled into the now very cramped hold – but once he heard the shouts from above he hurried up to the deck, arriving just as the sailors cast off.

Korinth, Desenna and two other men gave the
Fortuna
a final push, then jumped aboard. Asdribar waited until she was clear, then instructed the four men manning the port side to put out their oars and turn the ship round. Even as he shouted orders, the captain kept his eyes on the tribesmen – they had just reached the end of the causeway.

There were perhaps twenty of them, all barefoot and clad in their pale, baggy tunics. A few were wielding javelins; all were carrying bottles or jars, presumably filled with wine. When they saw the
Fortuna
on the move, half a dozen left the main group and ran past the collapsed dock on to the eastern breakwater. But Asdribar had made his calculations; he knew he could get his ship out of the harbour before the tribesmen reached them.

That didn’t stop the small group of warriors trying, and they didn’t seem overly concerned by the uneven concrete beneath their unprotected feet. Korinth and Desenna each took a bow from the barrel of weapons and positioned themselves by the starboard side-rail.

Once the
Fortuna
had been turned round, swift, deep strokes from the eight oarsmen sent her cutting through the water towards the entrance. With Squint on the helm, Asdribar moved up to the mast and silently directed the veteran with his hands. As the bow came level with the breakwaters, he shouted down to Opilio and the oars were retracted.

One of the local women and a teenage boy came up the steps to look out of the hatch, but a shout from Asdribar sent them straight back down. As the oars were run out again and the ship picked up speed once more, the Maseene reached the end of the breakwater. Korinth and Desenna drew their bows and aimed their arrows but the warriors had already settled for triumphant jeering. The javelins stayed in their hands and the only object thrown was a wine bottle that plopped into the middle of the
Fortuna
’s wake. Korinth and Desenna lowered the bows.

Simo looked back over the stern at the town. He had kept up with his prayers but now dark thoughts overwhelmed him. Were they still alive, perhaps even watching the ship depart? Or were they lying somewhere, injured or dead, victims of the Maseene or Carnifex and his men?

‘Keep her heading north,’ Asdribar told Squint before walking over to Simo. ‘You better get below again and make yourself useful – keep those people away from my oarsmen.’

Without a word, the Gaul walked back towards the hatch.

‘Simo,’ said Asdribar.

The Gaul halted at the top of the steps.

‘I had no choice.’

Cassius had expected Eborius to move directly north towards the road but he headed west. As they edged round one of the stone cisterns, Cassius asked him why.

‘I want to see the square too. We’re nearly there.’

‘What about the ship?’

‘You want to make a dash for it without seeing what’s in your way? Go ahead.’

It seemed impossible to move more than ten paces without running into Maseene, and without the gloom of twilight to hide them the short journey might have taken hours. But Cassius was relieved to note the sun still hadn’t quite set when they reached a large villa that faced the square. As he followed the centurion along the overgrown path that bisected the villa’s courtyard, he could hear fires crackling and the victorious cries of the tribesmen.

Eborius paused by the rear door. Cassius rested the butt of the javelin on the ground and took the opportunity to check behind them. For one brief, chilling moment, he thought he could see two men – one with a spear – but he almost laughed when he realised what he was actually looking at. The flames from the square had illuminated a fresco on the courtyard’s rear wall: the goddess Venus reclining on a giant seashell. The ‘spear carrier’ was in fact a nymph holding a fishing rod. Cassius’s aunt had the very same picture at her summer villa.

Eborius tapped him on the shoulder and pointed up and to the right. On the other side of the villa was a small tower, complete with miniature battlements and a conical tiled roof. The centurion led Cassius into the pitch-black interior. Fortunately, the noise from the square was more than sufficient to cover their stumbling, curse-ridden progress through the villa. The tower was accessed by a steep staircase and they eventually emerged into a tiny circular space that seemed to have remained untouched since the residents had left. Though everything was covered with a thick layer of dust, there were floor cushions, a miniature brazier, even a shelf stacked with scrolls and books.

Just below the base of the tower roof were two grilled windows, one facing north on to the Via Cyrenaica, the other west. Cassius put down the javelin and knelt next to Eborius, who was gazing out at the square.

‘By all the gods,’ breathed the centurion.

The fire had been fuelled by the market stalls, of which not a single timber remained. The stack of wood was as tall as two men and just as wide. Thick flowers of flame reached skyward and a heavy pall of smoke drifted high. The tribesmen stood around it in groups of a dozen or so. Cassius estimated there were between a hundred and fifty and two hundred of them. Most were drinking and some were deep in discussion, gesticulating wildly to their fellows. Others idly watched the flames. On the far side of the square, dozens of horses had been tethered, watched over by some of the younger tribesmen.

Cassius thought of the youthful warriors Carnifex had crucified and looked at the southern side of the square. He was surprised to see that the crosses and the bodies remained.

‘Cervidus,’ whispered Eborius.

The centurion was also looking at the crosses. And when Cassius looked closer, he realised that in fact the two bodies were of fully grown men, not youths. One had a white bandage around his ankle. Cervidus: the legionary who’d injured himself at the quarry.

‘You had to leave him behind.’

‘Yes.’

Eborius moved away from the window and slumped back against the wall. ‘Until today I wouldn’t have thought the Maseene capable of such things.’

‘The other man?’

‘Lafrenius Leon. I bet they had their fun with him.’

Cassius watched as a group of tribesmen walked past the crosses. Every one of them took his turn to spit at the body of the dead governor. Cassius looked out beyond the big blaze to the west, along the Via Cyrenaica. There were smaller fires every fifty yards or so. He moved to the other window and looked east. The situation was the same, and he could see dozens of figures close to every fire.

‘Gods, we’ll never get across now.’

Cassius peered towards the harbour but it was too dark to see if the
Fortuna
was still there. He turned away and sat below the window, opposite Eborius. After a while, he realised the big centurion was weeping. Cassius reached across and touched him on the arm. ‘Manius.’

Eborius wiped his face, so ashamed that he almost seemed to be trying to scrape the tears off his skin. ‘My apologies, Corbulo. I have long since acknowledged my part in what’s happened here, but it is another thing to see the results of it.’

‘You didn’t cause this. The blood of all who have died here is on Carnifex’s hands, not yours.’

Eborius put his head back against the wall. ‘This is not the first time I have failed in my duties.’

‘You mean your demotion? Being sent back to Darnis?’

‘Even you know.’

‘People talk. I imagine it must have been very difficult, but at least you were assigned to a legion in the first place. I barely scraped through training. If not for the Service, I doubt they would have passed me.’

‘You are a young man. With chances to prove yourself.’

Cassius saw little point in explaining that he thought he’d already had quite enough chances.

‘You have proven much today.’

‘When it’s already too late.’

Cassius’s weary mind couldn’t summon a constructive reply to that. Outside, the fire roared and hissed. Occasionally another cry of victory went up from the Maseene.

‘Much was always expected of me,’ Eborius continued quietly, ‘looking as I do. Sometimes I think that was the only reason I was promoted – just because I looked impressive on the parade ground carrying a standard. When I arrived in Lambaesis, everyone told me I would rise up the ranks. They just piled more and more duties on me, thinking I would … flourish. In the end I think I did well to hold it together for a year. Then one day I realised I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had water in my canteen. Not long after that I was back here.’

‘That’s history now. You stayed. And you stood up to Carnifex. I don’t believe I would have.’

Eborius said nothing, which to Cassius seemed like progress.

He continued: ‘I thought I was going to die in that pit. You risked everything in coming after us – you should feel pride, not shame.’

‘Pride?’ Eborius looked towards the square. ‘For that?’

‘You’re a good officer. I see it, and your men know it.’

‘My men are dead.’

‘Not all of them. And Noster, Adranos and Lentellus need your help just like we do. No one else is going to get us out of here.’

It took a long time for Eborius to reply. ‘You speak well, Corbulo.’

‘Better than I fight, so I hope you’ll continue to lead us as well as you have so far. What now?’

Eborius got up on his knees and looked out of the window facing north. ‘Once it’s properly dark, we shall try and find a gap in the lines – get across the road.’

‘Let’s head back to the others then,’ said Cassius, moving towards the steps.

Eborius stayed where he was. ‘Must be three hours or so since the bridge. Plenty of time for Carnifex to reach the town. He’s out there. Somewhere.’

Even in the time it took them to collect the others and move east, the numbers of Maseene seemed to swell, with warriors converging on Darnis from all directions. Eborius had already identified four different local clans; it seemed the rumoured coming together was no longer a rumour. After another hour of darting from one villa to the next, they finally reached what the centurion had decided was the best place to cross the Via Cyrenaica.

Though the Maseene were in control of the road for at least two miles east of the square, the largest gap in their lines was next to the roofless temple of Jupiter. As Cassius joined him at the corner of the walled sanctuary behind it, Eborius quietly explained why. ‘They have always feared the place. It’s the only structure above ten feet still standing – testament to the power of the Roman god of gods.’

‘Even though the roof came down,’ said Cassius.

‘It didn’t come down. It was never built. They started work when I was a boy. The temple was paid for by a man named Sallustius, the richest man in Darnis at the time. He died before it was completed and his family decided they would rather spend the money on themselves. But Sallustius had insisted that every part was to be made as strong as possible – said he wanted it to still be here in a thousand years.’

Cassius listened to the hurried breaths of the others arriving. He and Indavara had taken it in turns to lead Annia through the maze-like town. Even so, she had fallen several times and had barely uttered a word. She was standing behind Cassius now and he could feel her shivering, even though Indavara had found an old blanket and tied it round her shoulders with twine.

‘All here?’ asked Eborius.

‘All here,’ confirmed Noster, who was still guarding the rear.

‘Stay close.’

The centurion led them up the broad stone steps and between two of the columns into the half-completed structure. There was one distinct advantage to moving through a temple: they invariably followed a uniform design.