The Far Shore (25 page)

Five miles east of Cnossus, they spied a high-masted ship leaving the harbour. Cassius had just arrived on deck when Asdribar sent young Tarkel forward to the bow.

‘Best eyes we have,’ he explained.

The lad returned quickly. ‘Heading west, Captain.’

‘Sure of it?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Hope that’s not the
Cartenna
,’ said Cassius.

‘Cnossus is a big port – bigger than Rhodes,’ replied Asdribar. ‘Transit station for a lot of grain and other crops. Probably just a freighter.’

‘In November?’

‘Weather’s holding. Might be making a dash for Greece.’

‘How long before we’re in?’

‘Hour or so. The gods have been kind. I’ve not often done that trip in under two days.’

Cassius looked at Crete. It was a huge island – more than a hundred and fifty miles long, almost forty across at its widest. Like Rhodes, it was dominated by a central ridge of mountains and the
Fortuna
was now opposite one of the highest peaks, a monstrous, dark crag Cassius estimated to be at least a mile high. Its lower slopes were bound by forest and mist; and some areas had been quarried, the earth stripped away to reveal angular sections of grey rock.

The island had been a Roman possession for more than three centuries, and though Cassius knew Asdribar was right about the volume of trade passing through Cnossus, Crete was generally considered to be a sleepy, peaceful corner of the Empire. Cassius looked along the coast, at a cove enclosed by high cliffs. The pale, striated faces of the cliffs were dotted with dozens of dark caverns. Cassius narrowed his eyes, and saw there were fires burning inside some of them. He imagined the man known as Dio standing there, Memor’s head clutched in his hand, watching the ship approach.

Brushing aside such idle fantasy, Cassius considered the outcome of his morning’s work. Despite the hangover, he had checked through more of Memor’s documentation. The list of those with reason to want the man dead continued to grow, even though Cassius and Simo had examined only a fraction of his papers. Finding Dio therefore remained by far the best chance of making progress. Still gazing at the island, Cassius shook his head. If the assassin had gone to ground there, it might take weeks, even months, to find him.

‘Captain, do you know what kind of army presence there is at Cnossus?’

‘Not sure. I have seen legionaries around. And there’s definitely a way station at the harbour.’

Cassius realised the time had come for him to speak to Indavara. The bodyguard was alone, sitting against the starboard side-rail, doing his sums on Asdribar’s abacus. Annia and Clara were presumably in the deckhouse, while Simo was in the cabin, still working on the Memor papers. Cassius hadn’t told him about the events of the previous evening.

As he crossed the deck, Indavara kept his eyes on the abacus. Cassius leant back against the side-rail next to him and folded his arms across his chest. For a moment, he wondered if he really needed to go through with it. An apology always made one seem weak and he had been provoked. But Annia had been the one playing games; Indavara had done nothing but speak to her.

In truth, Cassius knew these minor considerations were irrelevant simply because of the debt he owed the man. Indavara was paid to protect him, yes, but risking one’s life to save another was not a matter to be taken lightly, or ever to be forgotten. And whatever disputes might arise between them, no matter how awkward or naive or downright stupid Indavara could be, nothing would change that. He had been wrong to humiliate him.

‘I think I owe you an apology.’

Silence.

‘Last night. It was uncalled for and … unpleasant. I had drunk a lot, but I know that’s no excuse. So – I apologise.’ Cassius gazed across at the island as he spoke. ‘You deserve better from me.’

Silence.

After a while, Indavara tilted his head back against the timbers. ‘I don’t see why we should pretend any more that we’re friends. I get paid to do my job. You get paid to do yours. That’s all it has to be.’

‘Indavara, I know that what I said upset you, but it’s that damned girl, she will insist—’

Indavara held up a hand. ‘Don’t.’

Cassius wondered, did he just want to hear no more, or did he want to hear nothing said against Annia? Was it possible he really thought he stood a chance with her? If the girl was encouraging it, Cassius thought she was being far crueller than he’d been.

‘Well, I’ve said what I wanted to,’ he replied, rubbing the back of his neck. ‘I did my sword exercises this morning, by the way. Went very well. Will you still help me?’

‘I said I would.’

Cassius pushed himself off the side-rail.

‘Corbulo.’

‘What?’

‘In future, if you laugh at me or make me look a fool, I’ll leave. I’ve enough money. I’ll just go.’

Cassius doubted that, because he was pretty sure Indavara had nothing – and no one – to go to. But he nodded anyway.

As midday approached, the mist seemed to roll out from the island, shrouding the coast and enveloping the ship; by the time they were nearing Cnossus, visibility was down to less than a hundred yards. The wind had dropped too, and the
Fortuna
slipped gently through the water, barely making way. While the sailors went about their work, the five passengers stood by the deckhouse, gazing into the white nothingness.

‘Thank the gods they’ve still got that lighthouse working,’ said Asdribar.

The orange dot off the port bow was quite clear; firelight magnified by burnished bronze mirrors.

‘Our luck had to run out some time,’ said Squint, who was back on the helm. ‘At least we know where we are. When’s the turn?’

Asdribar consulted the small leather-bound book he had earlier retrieved from the deckhouse. Cassius was standing behind him and he’d deduced that each page referred to some anchorage or approach. Scrawled notes, figures and diagrams covered every inch of the paper. ‘When the light’s five points off the bow.’

Though there was so little breeze that the mainsail was barely filling, the mist seemed to have chilled the air and Cassius was glad he’d told Simo to bring up his scarlet officer’s cloak. It really was remarkably warm – hardly surprising given the wool was a third of an inch thick.

‘Net in the water! Port side,’ came the cry from the bow.

‘Stay as you are,’ Asdribar told Squint.

Something scraped along the hull. Cassius looked over the side and saw a ragged old fishing net drifting towards the port rudder housing. Attached to it were several green glass marker buoys. Without an order, Desenna grabbed a boathook, leant out over the side-rail and flicked the net out of the way so that it didn’t foul the housing.

‘Clear, Captain.’

‘Well done.’

At first Cassius thought he was imagining the sound of voices drifting across the water, but he saw that the others could hear them too.

‘Sure we’re not in too close?’ queried Squint.

‘That’s why I don’t let you navigate, old man,’ replied Asdribar. ‘Never sure of yourself.’

‘What would you do if there was no lighthouse?’ Cassius asked.

Asdribar smiled and tapped his nose.

The mist closed even tighter around the
Fortuna
, until there was little more than a hundred feet of the calm, dark sea visible in any direction. Apart from the odd word from the sailors, and the creaking of the
Fortuna
’s hull, all was quiet. Then an unseen flock of squawking birds flew overhead. When the silence returned it seemed doubly oppressive.

‘Down to about fifty feet, Captain!’

The mainsail now hung limply from the yard. Cassius looked down at the water and decided they were almost stationary.

‘Opilio!’ Asdribar yelled.

‘Captain?’ came the voice from the hatch.

‘Those oars ready?’

‘Ready.’

‘How’s your rowing, Officer?’ Asdribar asked over his shoulder.

‘Not bad,’ Cassius answered.

‘Good, because I’m light a few oarsmen.’

Cassius grinned as Asdribar turned round.

‘I’m serious,’ said the Carthaginian. ‘We can’t afford to drift out here for long. If the wind doesn’t pick up, it’ll be all hands to the oars.’

Cassius’s smile had disappeared; the situation would have to be dire indeed before he played galley slave. He looked at the others. Simo and Indavara were still peering out at the mist. Clara was hanging on to her mistress’s arm, eyes wide. To her credit, Annia looked the most composed.

‘Desenna, lower the weight,’ ordered Asdribar.

The sailor reached into an alcove built into the starboard side-rail and pulled out a coil of rope with knots at regular intervals. Attached to the end was a hefty iron cylinder. Once the rope was uncoiled, he lowered the weight into the water.

‘Tarkel,’ yelled Asdribar. ‘Anything?’

The lad had earlier climbed up the series of little poles affixed to the mast and now sat on top of the yard. Cassius had completely forgotten about him and – when he looked up – found he could barely make him out through the swirling mist.

‘I think it’s even worse up here, Captain!’

‘Neptune’s beard, I’ve not seen a fog like this for a while,’ observed Squint.

‘You’ve not seen anything properly for longer than a while,’ said Asdribar.

Some of the crew exchanged a few words, then pointed to the women and said something to Asdribar in Punic. The captain silenced them instantly.

‘They’re blaming us,’ Annia said quietly. ‘They think it’s bad luck to have women aboard.’

‘Don’t you worry about them, miss,’ said Asdribar.

‘Thirty feet,’ Desenna announced, before bringing up the weight.

Squint whistled. ‘There are shoals west of the harbour, remember?’

Asdribar didn’t answer him. He was studying his notes.

Cassius tried not to imagine jagged rocks slicing through the timbers of the hull, water flooding into the hold, filling the cabins, coming up through the hatch …

‘That’s it,’ said Asdribar. ‘Sail hands – get ready to bring your lines in. Squint – come to port until the light’s dead ahead.’

The veteran eased the tillers to the right and the bow of the
Fortuna
slowly swung round. The sail hands looked up as they made their adjustments to the huge square of cloth above them.

‘We’re in the approach channel now,’ Asdribar said, turning to face his passengers. ‘Not far to the harbour.’

‘Will we be able to dock in this fog?’ asked Annia.

‘Not a chance, miss. Nor will anyone see us coming. No, once we’re inside the breakwaters, we’ll drop the anchor. Excuse me.’

As the captain made his way forward, Korinth came back to check on the mainsail. It took a good deal of hauling on various ropes to change the angle of the yard, but by the time it was done the wind seemed to have picked up. Cassius felt a slight breeze on the back of his neck. He looked over the stern; the
Fortuna
was again leaving a thin wake.

‘Officer Corbulo,’ said Annia, ‘Might I ask what you plan to do when we reach the port?’

Cassius retreated to the side-rail, so that he could address Annia and still see what was going on at the bow. Asdribar was on his knees under the bottom of the foresail, gazing into the mist.

‘That rather depends on what we find there, miss.’

‘You are aware of the size of the island?’

‘Indeed I am.’ Cassius gave her a cordial smile. ‘As you now know, philosophy is not a strength of mine but my geography, and my eyesight, are really quite reasonable.’

‘I meant only that it could be difficult – to find one man.’

‘Very difficult. And as I mentioned before, this affair may not end here.’

Squint spoke up: ‘Don’t mind me sticking my nose in, but we might not be going anywhere if this fog keeps up or the weather closes in. Couple of years back we were stuck on Crete for half the winter.’

‘Sir, a mast!’ came a cry from above. ‘Just off the port bow.’

Asdribar held his hand out to the right. Squint altered his course, only straightening up when the captain put his hand down again.

‘Fifty yards!’ added Tarkel.

The other passengers filed past Squint to join Cassius at the port side-rail.

‘Coming towards us!’

Cassius couldn’t see anything yet.

‘There!’ said Annia.

Cassius followed the line of her outstretched arm. The bow of another ship was emerging from the mist.

‘Thirty yards!’ announced Tarkel.

Now they could see figures on the foredeck. They heard shouting.

‘Punic?’ said Annia.

‘Yes,’ confirmed Cassius.

Suddenly there was a roar of laughter from the bow.

‘It’s the
Rusucurru
!’ yelled Asdribar.

‘The what?’ asked Cassius. He and the others turned to Squint for an explanation. The old sailor was beaming, showing more holes in his mouth than teeth.

‘Don’t look so worried,’ he said. ‘Friends.’