The Barbarian's Mistress (24 page)

It was hard to imagine Carthago looking like this barren land before Augustus took on the task of rebuilding it. Only the remnants of the mighty wall had remained after the city was sacked. From what they had seen of that wall during their time in the city, it must have formed an impressive stronghold. That the Roman military might had taken it, showed why the spread of the Roman Empire had been so successful. They were a force to be reckoned with.

Vali wondered if his people would one d
ay come under the boot of that Empire. He knew their southern neighbours were fighting to keep control of the lands the Romans called Magna Germania. But there was nothing of worth in his homeland for which the Romans would waste manpower and resources to gain. If there had been, his people wouldn’t have needed to go aviking to survive.

‘Hungry?’ Lara asked.

‘Always.’ He wriggled his eyebrows at her suggestively, just to see her laugh. She did laugh, and swotted his arm.

‘This will be a long journey, husband. You will need to control your appetites.’ The double meaning was clear in her tone, and he laughed too. Why had the gods been so good to him? This woman was so special. And the wonder was; she loved him.

They made their way to their little patch of enclosed deck. They had no close neighbours. Most of the other handful of passengers were situated at the forward side of the deck house between it and the hatches. But that was a busy area for the crew, and passengers were often forced to move if they got in the way. At least were they were, it might be windy, but it was out of the way, and they were safe from the waves that broke over the bow and rained back on the decks.

‘I can’t believe they have a place to cook inside the ship. It must be very dangerous. A fire might start and burn the ship out from under us.’

‘They’re very aware of the dangers, but it’s worth the risk to provide decent meals for the crew. There are several decks filled with goods under us and the hold that is filled high with amphorae. It is an impressive vessel. No need to fear. The Master offered us space below deck if we wanted it, but I said we’d stay on deck unless there was a storm.’

‘Do we have to go down there if there’s a storm?’

‘That or tie ourselves to the rigging. It gets very rough. But not to worry, sweetling, we may not see a storm for the whole time we are at sea. So far our luck has been good.’

Lara nodded at him with a frown, handing him fresh bread to break his fast. She didn’t seem convinced.

The
Tanit
limped into Carthago’s rectangular merchant harbour just on dark. It had been a difficult journey and a freak storm had damaged their mainsail and torn away the foresail completely. But at least that had only been on the last day of the trip, and so they’d lost only a few hours of travelling time.

Herakles and Ninia waited until Missing-Fingers left the ship before taking their leave. Ninia felt her legs buckle as they accepted solid land under them. Her father was quick to assist her, and she clung to his arm as she waited for her legs to become steady beneath her again.

Now the hard part started. Carthago was far larger than either of them had expected. How were they ever to find Anni in a city this large? Certainly, Vali’s unusual appearance would make him stand out, but sea ports like this were filled with foreigners of all shapes and colours. Would anyone remember a tall, blonde man and his woman who landed here several days ago?

They
were one step ahead of Missing-Fingers though. Because of the knowledgeable agent in Palinurus they had known the ship Anni had taken south. When they’d crossed paths with that same ship, the
Utica
, at Lilybauem, Herakles had made a point of going to meet the ship’s master, to enquire about Anni.

After a few moments of suspicion, and a
studied scrutiny of Ninia, the Master had agreed that he’d carried two people that matched their description. Yes, they had left the ship at Carthago. But no, that wasn’t their ultimate destination. They were heading to Gaulia and thence to Britannia. If they had taken the Master’s advice, and he expected they had, as the Norseman was a quick-witted seaman, he would have taken passage on the
Baal.

So while Missing Fingers was looking in the city for two people, they would be looking for anything they could learn about the
Baal.
By the time the spy found out what had happened to the couple, she and her father would have taken ship in pursuit of the
Baal.
At the most, Anni could only be a few days ahead of them. If they got fair winds, they might reach Narbo at the same time. Then she’d be able to save her dear mistress from that debauched bed slave.

There was sti
ll a lot of activity on the wharves. Fiery torches had been set up at intervals along the long docks so that slaves could see their way to load and unload the docked vessels. It was too dark to be able to read the names on the sides of the ships, but Herakles made a point of asking each ship’s mate along the way if they knew of the
Baal.

Just as they reached the city entrance to the docks, Herakles finally met with success. A harassed shipping agent was scanning the manifest for a small vessel just drawn up.

‘
Baal?
Yes, I know the ship you refer to. But you’re too late. She sailed at first light this morning. Won’t be back for another few weeks.’

‘Sailing for Narbo, so I’m told,’Herakles continued, not allowing the man to shake him off.

‘Yes, yes. Now will you excuse me, I have work to do.’

‘Certainly sir, after one more question. Is there another ship bound for Narbo leaving shortly?’

The man lifted his eyes to the heavens, as if cursing the gods for inflicting this pest on him. ‘Over there, the
Teutates.
She leaves at dawn, so I’d be in a hurry to secure passage now, if I were you.’

With a brief thank you, Herakles led Ninia along the quay, in the direction the clerk had indicated. After a few more questions, they came upon the
Teutates.
It was already loaded, its hatches sealed up for the night. The crew had all gone ashore, except for the mate, who was just finalising matters with the crew members on overnight guard duty.

‘We can find a place for you and your daughter. But it won’t be cheap. Hundred and eighty denarii each. You feed yourselves. Our ship’s cook feeds only the crew. It’s a seven day journey in good weather, travelling day and night. Be prepared, it’s no barge trip down the Tiber. We leave at dawn.’

‘We understand, and the cost is acceptable. We will pay when we board at first light.’

‘Fair enough. Get a good night’s sleep. You’ll need it.’

As they hurried away triumphant, Ninia tried not to think about the harrowing journey to come. It had been terrifying when the storm had hit early that day, especially when the foresail came away with a deafening crack. If she had her way, she’d never sail again.

But Anni needed her, so she would brave whatever the gods sent their way, just to be at her mistress’ side again.

Menolus had been busy for the last few hours since the
Tanit
docked, asking about a tall Norseman at the inns along the sea wall. It had taken him a lot of wasted hours, but he’d finally come by some startling information. A few nights ago, a blonde giant had murdered three men and severely wounded another two. The survivors told the same story. The man had fought like a djinn, his sword appearing and disappearing at will. He’d struck one man down from a distance of ten feet.

Missing-Fingers didn’t believe the embellishments. Giant djinn, with disappearing swords that could strike from a distance? Very unlikely. Just as the innocence of the dead men was called into question in this scenario. If this Vali still had his wife at his side, he wouldn’t be starting fights for the hell of it. Likely, he was defending himself from a street gang.

Lucky or skilled? It didn’t matter at this stage, although if he ever got close to his mark, it would be good to know what to expect. Menolus was a veteran of the arena. He’d fought long enough and hard enough to gain his manumission. Unlike many of his kind, he didn’t continue to fight once he was free. There were other lucrative ways to make a living using his skills, without the regime of the ludus.

These days he chose his assignments, and worked only when he needed to. The rest of the time he enjoyed the favours of a couple of prostitutes in Rome, and ate and drank well. It was a good life. And after the storm he’d withstood earlier in the day, he was just glad he still had that life. Neptune’s fury cam
e a little too close this time. But now he had his feet firmly planted on the ground again, and he was in pursuit of his quarry. He could almost smell them.

And, although this gem of information didn’t get him any closer to his prey, it did tell him that this Vali was here somewhere. All he had to do was find him. How hard could that be with gold enough to lubricate greedy memories?

By the time his partner arrived with instructions from their patron, he’d have a clear idea of their quarry’s location. Together, they’d take the man down, if that was their employer’s wish. Not in some haphazard fashion, like the street gang attempted. But strategically; doing what they did best.

11 September 79 CE
, Carthago AFRICA

Braxus limped along the dock, shoulders hunched, head down. He was sick, very sick. Headaches, joint pain, and bouts of chills and fever had been with him not long after he’d set sail from Ostia. It was not from the sea, as that had been placid for the length of the five day journey from Rome. No, this was something else. A fever caught from slaves, bad water or bad food? The latter could be right, as they hadn’t seen land for the full trip, and therefore hadn’t had fresh food for that whole time. But no one else had fallen sick, so he still wasn’t sure.

The interminable trudge along the docks to the entrance to the harbour was finally complete. He didn’t know how he kept moving; his weight seemed too great for his legs to hold up. But he had no time to indulge himself with rest. He had to find the message his partner would have left him, so he knew what his next course of action would need to be.

They’d always chosen an inn that used an anchor as is symbol, to leave their messages. There was always at least one in every port. Here, the landlord would be trusted with a code message. It cost them both to grease the publican’s hand at one end and at the other, but it was the surest way they’d found, over the years, to keep track of each other on the job.

This town had two anchor symbolled inns. The first used the Roman anchor, the second the African. He chose the Roman one first. Here, he located the landlord and asked for any messages for Vesta. It was their joke to use the goddess of the Vestal virgins as their code word. It had seemed fitting, as those priestesses were known for their sexual proclivities, rather than their virginit
y. A bit like him and Menolus: degenerate servants of a non-existent god.

The middle-aged landlord in a greasy tunic looked him up and down and then nodded, holding out one gnarled hand.

Braxus dropped a few sesterces into his palm. After a disgruntled glance at the coins the man lifted one eyebrow. Sighing heavily, Scarface dropped another two coins into his hand. Satisfied, the man closed his fist over the large, brass coins and pocketed them.

‘Yer
friend’s upstairs. Has a room at the front. First door in from the outer door. I spect ‘e’s there. Dinner ain’t served yet. He ne’er misses a meal, that one. If you want to share with ‘im it’ll cost you another sesterce for the night.’

‘He’s already paying for the whole room. I’m not paying extra, you crooked bastard.’ His snarl was enough to bring the landlord up short. Braxus might be sick, but he wasn’t weak enough to fall foul of this potbellied fool.

The man must have seen his death in Scarface’s eyes, because he backed down hastily. With an angry nod, Braxus turned and left the ground floor establishment. Then he made his tortured way up the outer stairs to the accommodation on the upper floor.

‘Menolus,’ he said aloud as he pushed the door open. It was enough of a warning to save him a dagger in the chest. But his partner had his weapon drawn, nonetheless, as Braxus staggered into the room on even more unsteady legs.

‘What’s wrong with you?’ Menolus said without interest.

‘Sick. Bad food or something. Just need to rest. How goes it?’ He pitched onto the cot on the opposite wall to the one his partner was sitting on. It was hard and scratchy, and smelled of sweat and urine. But it was stable. He thanked the gods for the fact that it was stable. In his younger years, life at sea had invigorated him. Now it drained him.

His body began to shake with chills again, and he drew his cloak more tightly around him.

‘Took me the last couple of days to find the trail, then to find out they took ship to Gaulia the day I arrived. What a fucking waste of time. What’s the patron say?’

‘What we expected. Kill the Norseman and bring back the girl,
unharmed
. Think the lady thought we might avail ourselves of the sweet young thing if not warned off her. But after servicing that slave all this time, I can’t see what a little more of the ‘rough’ would hurt. Depends on how hard the bastard makes the fight, whether I claim the prize or not.’