The Far Shore (10 page)

‘Indeed they are,’ Cassius replied. ‘And you’re damned lucky not to be joining them. You do however have an immediate chance to redeem yourself. What’s your name?’

‘Akritos.’

The harbour master was standing behind a rickety desk stained with oil and wax. Also present was his young clerk, who was by a shelf stacked with boxes of documentation. Mounted on the wall were several bronze plaques with statements in Greek reinforcing the authority of the harbour master under local and imperial law.

‘First, tell me this,’ said Cassius. ‘Have any ships left this morning?’

Akritos turned to the clerk, who shook his head.

‘Lucky,’ said Cassius. ‘Especially for Nariad.’

The magistrate had left, now promising to devote all available resources to the investigation.

‘Anything
scheduled
to leave today?’ asked Cassius.

The clerk stepped forward. ‘An Egyptian freighter was supposed to be leaving first thing, sir. Captain hasn’t been in yet though.’

‘So they’re still here?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘We keep a good lookout,’ added Akritos, pointing to a ladder at the rear of the room running up to a hatch. ‘Plus they have to come and pay their wharf dues and organise a tow-out if they need one.’

Cassius glanced down at the open leather-bound book on the desk. ‘Is that what I asked for?’

‘It is.’

‘You keep a record of
every
departure or arrival?’

‘Only for ships – which are vessels with a hold wider than eight yards.’

‘Show me the departures from yesterday,’ Cassius instructed.

Akritos struggled to find the right page amongst the loose sheets yet to be tied into the book. The clerk swiftly took over and located it.

‘Here, sir,’ said the young man. ‘Six vessels in all.’

‘Really?’ queried Cassius. ‘At this time of year?’

‘That’s because of Phalalis,’ replied the harbour master, ‘the old boy the captains go to for their weather. He said there’d be pretty clear skies for three days so a few of them made a run for it yesterday. Might not get another chance this season.’

Cassius grabbed the page. The clerk had made notes for each of the six vessels, with details of the captain’s name; time and date of arrival and departure; origin and destination; type and amount of cargo; and wharf dues paid.

‘Nothing on passengers,’ he said to himself. Typically, those seeking transportation aboard ship simply asked around and made arrangements with cooperative captains; Cassius had done precisely that when organising their journey from Cilicia.

He sat down on the chair Simo had brought over for him. ‘Come round here, you two.’

Cassius placed his finger next to the first of the six entries. ‘The
Chios
, captained by one Placcus Onginus. Arrived from Miletus at the ninth hour on the second, left at the first hour on the fifth – yesterday – bound for Seleucia. Cargo unloaded: dried fish, dried fruit and iron implements. Cargo loaded: wine and figs. You don’t take notes on taxes paid?’

Before they could answer there was a knock on the office door. Akritos waved the clerk over to deal with the man standing there.

‘Not our job, sir,’ he told Cassius. ‘That’s down to the revenue people.’

‘Nariad’s office.’

‘Correct.’

‘So they actually go on board?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Then they might know which ships had passengers?’

‘They might, sir. They usually only check the cargo though.’

Cassius looked back at the page and examined the rest of the entries. ‘Why is there a space between the first four ships and the last two?’

‘Last two are what a sailing man would call coasters, sir, but with big holds, so we have to take their details.’

‘This second coaster. It arrived three days ago and unloaded four dozen barrels of oil but didn’t take anything on board.’ Cassius checked the other entries. ‘All the other vessels took on considerable loads.’

‘Of course,’ said Akritos, ‘you’re throwing money away with an empty hold.’

‘So it’s unusual?’

‘Very.’

Cassius looked back at the page. ‘And why is there no listing for the time of departure?’

The clerk had by now dealt with the visitor so returned to the desk.

‘Ah yes, sorry, sir, that’s the
Scyros
– they had a problem with their rudder. They were supposed to go yesterday but—’

‘You mean it’s still here?’

‘Yes, sir,’ replied the clerk. ‘I believe they’re bound for Macedonia.’

Akritos grunted.

‘What?’ asked Cassius.

‘Long way home – in a ship that small at this time of year.’

‘You think it’s a lie?’

‘Either that or they’re braver men than me.’

‘Maybe they don’t have any choice.’

Cassius stood up and handed the page to Simo. ‘You’re going to show me this ship,’ he told the clerk. ‘Akritos, I want you to spread the word. No seagoing vessel is to leave without my express permission. Understood?’

Akritos put his cap back on. ‘Sir, you’ll need Magistrate Nariad’s authorisation for that.’

‘Consider it given.’

A light rain began to fall as they strode along the coast road, now accompanied by a pair of legionaries Cassius had collared. The
Scyros
was moored some distance away, beyond the last of the warehouses, close to where the wharf became the northern breakwater.

‘Looks like this weather forecaster was wrong,’ Cassius said to the clerk.

‘Yes, sir. Just a cloudburst I think, though. The sailors really do listen to him. He makes more money than the augurs.’

‘Officer! Officer Corbulo!’

Cassius turned to see a covered carriage approaching at speed. Next to the driver was the diminutive figure of Trogus, waving frantically. Cassius and the others moved off the road as the driver brought the horses to a stop.

‘Wonderful,’ muttered Cassius when he saw that sitting under the carriage’s fabric roof were young Mistress Annia and someone he presumed to be her maid – a sweet-looking girl of about the same age. The driver got down and steadied the horses.

‘Morning, sir.’

‘Trogus.’

Annia had a little more colour about her than the previous day but was wrapped up in the same black cape. ‘Good day, Officer Corbulo.’

‘Good day, miss.’

‘How are things proceeding?’

‘Well at least they
are
proceeding now. I had a frank exchange of views with Magistrate Nariad and he is cooperating fully. His sergeants are assisting the legionaries to see if anyone recalls anything about the assassin. I am trying to establish the man’s movements.’

‘And?’

‘Nothing yet. But the day is young.’

Annia looked past him at the others. ‘Where are you going now?’

‘Just making enquiries.’

‘Are you concerned with one ship in particular? You know my father had a lot of dealings in Africa, you might look for ships from there.’

‘Miss, I really must get on. Perhaps if you return to the villa – I shall ensure you’re kept abreast of any developments.’

‘No, no. I can’t wait around there all day.’

‘Perhaps a visit to the governor then, to make sure he also understands the gravity of the situation?’

Cassius noticed Trogus wince but as long as the girl was out of his way, he didn’t care.

‘Perhaps,’ replied Annia. ‘Shall we arrange a meeting for later?’

‘I really don’t know where I’ll be. But don’t worry, I promise to keep you apprised.’

Annia leant over the side of the carriage and ushered Cassius closer. ‘If you need money, please just ask,’ she said quietly. ‘Whatever is required.’

In truth, this was one area where her help might prove useful. Cassius had only his own money with him, and there were no senior army administrators in the city from whom he could secure funds.

‘I shall, miss. Thank you.’

‘Please do your best for us.’

Though the distinctly unladylike attitude remained, Cassius was relieved to note the improvement in her manner.

‘Of course.’

The
Scyros
was a broad, high-sided vessel about seventy feet long. The yard had been raised and the brown mainsail hung beneath it, bunched up like a huge curtain. Close to the stern were four crewmen working on the ship’s tiller, talking in a language Cassius didn’t recognise. Aside from the fact that they were all dark-skinned, black-haired and wearing long, beltless tunics, Cassius could deduce little from the sailors’ appearance. Noticing the visitors, they looked up at the wharf.

‘We are coming aboard,’ he announced in Greek.

The men said nothing but watched in mild surprise as Cassius ordered the soldiers on first. Between the ship and the wharf were large fenders made from sacks filled with dried bark. The soldiers negotiated these then dropped on to the deck. As Cassius and the others followed, one of the sailors spoke.

‘Gaulish?’ suggested the clerk.

‘No,’ said Simo.

‘Who’s in charge here?’ asked Cassius.

The crewmen stared at him blankly.

‘Where – is – your – captain?’ Cassius asked, changing to Latin.

He could make nothing out of the garbled reply.

‘I think he said he’s not here,’ suggested the clerk.

‘How can they sail to Rhodes and not speak a word of Greek or Latin? It’s damned odd.’

One of the legionaries had wandered away to inspect the rest of the ship. ‘Sir, I think I heard something below.’

Dragging his eyes from the shadowy main hatch, Cassius turned to the talkative sailor. ‘Is – someone – down – there?’

The sailor shrugged, then gestured towards the hatch. The other three glanced anxiously at one another.

‘Draw swords, you two,’ Cassius told the legionaries. ‘If there’s someone below I want them brought up. Swiftly now.’

‘Yes, sir.’ The older of the two led the way down the steps, blade angled downwards.

Cassius waved Indavara forward to keep watch on the sailors, then walked over to the hatch as the legionaries reached the bottom.

‘Bloody dark down here, sir.’

‘You see anything?’

‘Not much, just— Hey!’

‘What is it?’

Cassius’s only answer was the sound of a struggle. He was halfway down the steps when the legionaries reappeared out of the gloom. They each had a hand on a short individual attired like the other sailors.

‘Got another one, sir.’

‘You speak Greek?’ demanded Cassius. ‘Latin?’

The man’s response was to try to wrench his arms free, but he soon desisted when the older legionary waved his sword in his face. ‘Want some of that, short-arse?’

‘You keep looking,’ Cassius told the younger legionary.

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Bring him.’

Cassius retreated up the steps. As soon as the fifth sailor cleared the hatch, he started babbling at his compatriots.

‘Quiet!’ Cassius shouted.

The older legionary held the man by the collar and kept his sword close to his neck.

‘Centurion! Sir!’

The ten men on the deck of the
Scyros
looked up at the wharf. Standing there with a coil of rope over his shoulder was a man of about forty. He looked rather shocked.

‘Might I ask what’s going on here? I am Nepius Ahala, master of this vessel.’

‘Just making enquiries,’ Cassius said calmly, keen to avoid letting another tense situation spiral out of control. ‘Come down here, would you?’

Leaving the rope on the wharf, Ahala nimbly negotiated the fenders and strode over to Cassius. He was a striking man: broad-shouldered and handsome, with a light beard and thick, greying hair.

‘Surely there’s no need for blades here, sir,’ he said, continuing in Latin.

‘I’ll be the judge of that,’ replied Cassius. ‘Is there anyone else on board?’

Ahala exchanged a few words with his men in the mysterious language. ‘No. I have six more crew but they’re fetching water.’

‘Why do none of them speak Latin or Greek?’

‘Why would they? I recruit them from my home town, not far from Barcino.’

‘Ah,’ said Cassius. ‘Spanish.’

‘Aquitanian, we call it.’

‘You were supposed to leave yesterday, correct?’

‘That’s right. Bit of rudder trouble. What’s all this about anyway?’