“I have no love for Antony, sir,” Lucius replied jovially. “I suppose if I don’t kill him now, he’ll try to have me killed again someday.”
“Quite right, Lucius,” Libo said more placidly this time and extended a hand. “We are agreed then. I assure you, my friend, it is for the good of Rome.”
“If you say so, sir.” Lucius somewhat reluctantly took the admiral’s hand. “But it will not be easy. Antony will have a bodyguard with him and, more than likely, many more soldiers nearby. He’s a bastard, but he’s not daft.”
“I have given it long consideration.” The admiral gave him an appreciative glance. Gesturing for Lucius to come closer, he unraveled a chart and laid it out on the table. It showed the port of Brundisium with its triangular harbor, the narrow waterway leading inland where the two land-bound sides of the triangle met, and the dozen tiny sand spits that lay scattered across the seaward side. The largest of these was annotated Basada – the place where the meeting would take place. Lucius could see that the little islet was a good choice for neutral ground. It was beyond the reach of the towers protecting the approaches to the harbor and would allow either party a clear path of escape should a hasty retreat prove necessary.
“We will land here.” Libo pointed to the seaward side of the islet. “Our delegation will arrive aboard a bireme which will beach at this location. The rest of the fleet will remain on the open sea, but within sight of the harbor.”
“Just one ship, sir? Antony will be sure to bring more than that.”
“To bring more ships close to these sand spits only invites disaster. A wayward wind might beach them or drive them within range of the towers. Besides, our aim is to kill Antony, not to defeat him. Once he is dead, our priority will be to escape.” He said this in a half-hearted tone, as if he knew the prospect of such an escape was slim, as if he had already mentally committed himself to a one-way trip. The reason for keeping the fleet in the open made sense now. This was a suicide mission. It was the one way of preserving Libo’s honor. If he sacrificed his own life in the name of the republic, the treachery of his last act would be forgotten, and perhaps the story of this little assassination mission would find its way onto the lips of the bards and acted out in theaters for generations to come – like the tale of Mucius Scaevola, the Roman patriot of old that tried to assassinate the evil king Lars Porsena. Lucius remembered, once upon a time, when he was a boy in Gades, when his station in life had him on the path of an equite, his Greek tutor had often taught him the tale of Mucius the left-handed one. He knew it well. But if Libo was to play the part of Mucius in tomorrow’s drama, and Antony the part of Lars Porsena, then had Lucius been chosen to play the part of Mucius’s right hand that was ultimately sacrificed to the flames?
“I know this islet well, Centurion,” Libo continued. “It is flat and spans no more than five hundred paces in any direction. Our ship will be beached with its prow high in the air. As you know, there is a hawser hole for handling the anchor through which a man might peer to view the beach. Concealed properly, a scorpion might be mounted there such that the man operating it would not be visible to those on the shore. I will arrange for such a weapon to be mounted and stowed beneath a canvas at this location. I will tell the captain that I am doing this simply as a precaution, in the event of treachery by Antony. I will also command that, once the ship is beached, the crew is to remain clear of the bow so that Antony does not suspect similar such treachery on our part. You, however, will take up position at this vantage point. I do not know how long you will have to align your shot, but you must do it quickly. Can it be done?”
Lucius considered the chart. Many circumstances impossible to predict would have to be accommodating. The wind, the distance to Antony, the size of the hawser hole, the life left in the sinews of the torsion springs, but he detected that the admiral was well-aware of these things. “Assuming the gods favor us with fair weather, then yes, it can be done. I will need to exercise the scorpion tomorrow morning while we are still out to sea, to gauge its strength.”
“Good, Lucius. It will be arranged just as you say. After we land, I will go with the delegation to meet with Antony on the strand. Look for me to touch my brow as if to wipe off the perspiration there. That will be your signal to loose. You must do it quickly, and your dart must fly straight and true. Antony must not rise again, for I may not be close enough to finish him off.”
“Few men struck by a scorpion bolt ever get up again, sir,” Lucius said confidently.
“May Mars make it so tomorrow.” Libo’s face then assumed a solemn expression. He turned to face Lucius and looked him squarely in the eyes, as if to search out his true intentions. “I cannot offer you riches, Lucius, as Caesar or some others might. I will promise, however, that when all of this is over, and the republic is restored, I will do all that I can to see you appointed to a prominent position in her legions – or her navy, if you so choose. I appeal to you, to see this through. I appeal to you as a fellow son of Rome. I appeal to the centurion of the Tenth Legion who pledged to serve the Senate and the people. I appeal to the man who stood on that battlement at the frozen edge of the known world and did his duty. I ask you, Lucius, finally and on your honor, will you see it through?”
XXV
The crews’ berthing was in the forward sections of Argonaut’s massive bulk. After leaving Libo’s quarters, Lucius made his way through the dark passages, feeling the fatigue of the day wearing on him. The creak of a hundred tholepins swiveling in their sockets filled the night air as the oars dipped and rose.
Lucius mulled over the problems he had just walked into. He had agreed to Libo’s proposal, more as a way of buying time than anything else. For he knew Libo’s plan to be complete madness. It was reckless and preposterous and would only end up getting all of them killed. Did the admiral think Antony’s men would quietly walk away when they saw their general skewered by a two-foot dart? Libo would probably be the first one killed by Antony’s angry bodyguards, and while that was probably acceptable to the duty-oriented fool, the rest of the delegation and everyone else would soon follow him in death. Lucius knew Antony would never agree to such a meeting without having an ambush waiting. A part of him wished death to them all. Death to Antony for betraying him, and death to the Optimates for the devious behavior he had seen their legions use in Spain. But, deep within him, Lucius knew Libo could not be counted with these. Libo was an upright man, and in spite of his many misguided values, Lucius was fond of him. He did not relish seeing the admiral’s blood mingle with the likes of Antony. There had to be a way of heading off this disastrous plot before it was too late, and they were all corpses on the beach.
Lucius was still contemplating this, and had just reached the berthing area, when a shadow moved at him. He had not noticed the slim figure standing in a dark corner of the passage and he immediately took a defensive stance, preparing to face what he thought must surely be one of Postumus’s assassins.
“No need to startle so, Spanish dog,” a woman’s voice came from the shadows. “I could have killed you easily where you stand. You would have breathed your last before you knew who had slain you.”
The slim figure moved into the lamp light, revealing the stone-like features of Marjanita. She eyed him with something that could only be described as repugnance, but Lucius smiled back at her as he let his guard down.