“He will instruct you.” Calpurnia consoled her, and then looked Lucius up and down. “Do not worry. I am sure he is a veteran at many things.”
XXVI
The morning sun broke over the low bank of clouds far out to sea and shed its rays on the small islands lining the approaches to Brundisium’s harbor. The sea was relatively calm this day, and the surf broke gently along the tiny strips of white sand and rock. In the distance, along the coastal hills at the apex of the harbor, the rooftops of the town gleamed in many different hues of red. Those in the town, stepping out onto their terraces that morning, would see a vast armada sitting well out to sea. They would also see a single ship, with sails furled, approaching the northern-most of the tiny islands under oars. Pushing out from the harbor side, they would see five small galleys heading for the same island, their oars leaving tiny foamy disturbances on the water behind them.
From the seaward side of the island, the single warship drove on amidst the rollers. She was the Faun - a nimble, one hundred-foot galley of eighty oars in two banks with a single weather deck and a rower deck below. When she had closed sufficiently with the shore, sailors leapt from her bows into the waist deep froth and began securing a pair of anchors. A rope ladder was dropped over the side, and two scores of men debarked, most of them marines with shields slung on their backs. The marines came to a halt once they reached dry ground, but three others who were with them continued on, plodding through the powdery sand laced with seashells and bird droppings.
At the same time, the five ships from the harbor landed on the opposite side of the island. A similar sized retinue of armored legionaries also stopped at the water’s edge, allowing their delegation of three to proceed to the meeting spot at the island’s center.
Libo waited with Postumus and Flavius while the other delegation advanced. The highest point on the island was scarcely the height of a man above sea level, so he was able to observe the approaching party from the moment they had debarked. He quickly identified Antony among the three men, his large stature and prominent forehead setting him apart from the others nearly as much as the polished bronze corselet glimmering beneath his billowing scarlet cloak. The Caesarian general had a commanding presence about him, marching briskly several paces ahead of the two men accompanying him. He wore no helmet, allowing Libo to see a visible measure of trepidation in his eyes as they scanned the low dunes around him, as if treachery lurked beneath the sand itself.
Libo fidgeted internally over this opportune moment while Antony was in the open, but he knew the distance to the Faun was far too great. Not even Centurion Domitius, whom Libo prayed was at this moment watching from the scorpion hidden beneath the canvas shroud on the Faun’s bow, could hope to hit Antony from that range. He would need to wait until Antony was closer, and he wished to encourage him to come as close as possible.
With this in mind, Libo forced a warm smile and raised a hand in greeting. "Salutations and blessings upon you, Marcus Antonius."
Antony immediately stopped in his tracks, still a good twenty paces away, his face showing misgivings over the overtly friendly greeting, and Libo inwardly cursed himself for his own foolish error. Even more problematic were Antony’s attendants. While one was a blonde-haired, pasty white, clerical-looking type who wore an ill-fitting mail shirt over his pot-bellied torso, the other was a daunting knight of middle age who was well-armed and wore a glimmering bronze helmet with a flaring green plume. This grim-faced warrior had taken up a position between the two groups such that any missile aimed at his general would be blocked by his large frame.
Antony seemed dismissive of Libo's salute. The leery-eyed general did not acknowledge him in the least, but smiled curtly at Postumus as if the senator were the only one worthy to address him.
"Postumus, my old friend," Antony said, a bit too genially. "I must admit, I'm not surprised to find you involved in all this. You always were a scheming old son of a whore."
Postumus looked back at him contemptuously. "No less surprised than I to find you standing here today, a man so devoid of principle that he would cheerfully sell out his master for his own personal gain."
At this, Antony seemed to check himself, as if choking back the response that was on his lips. After a smile that appeared much more genuine, he spread his palms wide. "Come, come. These long-standing differences between us need not hamper this arrangement. There is no need for insults. Especially after the generous offer you have extended me. I am both honored and touched, Senator.”
"I assure you, neither the offer nor the honor came from me,” Postumus said, still bridling. “I come to you today only at the bidding of the man I serve. Believe me, I argued that he could have gotten you for much less."
The animation left Antony's features, as a player removes a mask. He regarded the senator coolly as he spoke through gritted teeth. "Take assurance, Postumus, that when all of this is over, and you tragically number among the fallen of this war, I shall personally see that your severed cock is delivered to your widow that she might honor it at the next Liberalia."
“Most kind,” Postumus replied tersely. “Might I also assure you that -”
"Please, gentlemen!" Libo said, stepping between them. "This is senseless."
"Who is this upstart, Postumus?" Antony asked. “We were just getting started.”
Postumus sighed. "This is Scribonius Libo. He commands the fleet that now blockades your coast."
"Ah, yes, Bibulus's replacement. I remember you, now.” Antony’s tone was rife with unveiled condescension. "Pity to hear about old Bibulus. But, perhaps he got what was coming to him. The crazy bastard, burning my poor ships and soldiers like that. He always was a few rods shy of a fasces.”
Libo nodded cordially, but said nothing, wishing that he could give the signal that would silence the traitor’s overconfident tongue, but still the green-plumed knight stood in the path.
Flavius leaned toward Postumus and said quietly. “Shall we proceed with the business at hand, Senator?”
“I think that would be wise, General,” Antony’s aide whispered, almost inaudibly.
Postumus looked at Antony. “You know who we represent?”
“Yes,” Antony replied. “I know who you claim to represent. But questions remain.”
“Then let this settle those questions.” Postumus held up the ring bearing the raven signet and tossed it into the sand at Antony’s feet.
The blonde aide leaned over to retrieve it, and studied it intently, before turning to Antony and nodding. “It is authentic, General.”
“My, my,” Antony said, shaking his head and glancing impishly from Libo to Postumus. “Had I not seen it, I would not have believed it. The Senate-in-exile and the fleet both on the Raven’s leash. I suppose Pompey’s army is as well, eh?”
“I think that my presence here, along with Admiral Libo, confirms that,” answered Postumus.
“Yes, but who is the Raven? That is the most intriguing question of all. Is it you, Postumus, my old chum?”
The senator did not blink. “An agreement has been made. We are here to receive the treasury gold from you. I assume you have brought it with you.”
Antony glanced over his shoulder to the beached ships behind him. Four of the craft were mastless galleys, their decks shaded by bright green canvas awnings, beneath which stack upon stack of crates were visible.
“It’s all there,” Antony said smiling.
“Of course, but we wish to inspect it, all the same.”
“You are welcome to do so.”
Antony gestured to the blonde aide. Postumus did the same to Flavius, and then both aides walked together to the moored galleys, where planks were run out to receive them. While Antony and Postumus remained on the beach staring at one another, Libo watched the adjutants in the distance. They pulled open one crate after another, inspecting the contents of each. Both men appeared to be immersed in deep conversation, and Libo found that odd.