Once inside, Cassius removed his cape and ordered a mug of wine. There were a handful of men — fishermen by the looks of them — eating in the parlour. Cassius questioned the woman about the owners of the three large ships and she in turn asked the men. One vessel was known to be awaiting repairs. The other two were coasters that made regular trips up to Aila. Cassius gave another boy a sesterce to find the captains and ask if their boats were available for hire.
Once the mug was finished he ordered a large flask. The woman’s husband — also the inn’s proprietor — showed him up to the room. Cassius took his boots off and lay on the bed closest to the window. There was no dagger sheath or sword belt to remove; he had discarded them days earlier and Simo had packed them away. Sipping from the flask, he watched the sky darken.
He was still awake when Simo came up but he pretended to be asleep. The attendant moved remarkably quietly as he unpacked the saddlebags. After a while, Cassius couldn’t be bothered to pretend any more.
‘Sorry, sir. I did try not to wake you.’
Cassius sat up. ‘Pass me my satchel.’
From it he took the map, checking the distances up the coast and from there along the Via Traiana. He thought it unlikely he’d be back in Bostra in under two weeks, though he would at least be able to use the imperial post once at Aila.
Cassius knew he would have to reconcile himself to yet more uncertainty; he just had to stop himself thinking about Indavara and the others and the black stone. There were two ways to achieve that; drinking and sleeping.
‘Your horse went down almost straight away, sir. It didn’t even want any food.’
‘Tomorrow you will sell it. The mule too.’
‘Patch?’
‘Of course.’
Simo thought about this, then reached for another of the saddlebags and took out the spearhead. ‘Sir, I don’t think I can repair the damage. It may need to go to a metalsmith.’
Cassius lay back again. ‘You do understand what this is about, don’t you?’
‘Sir?’
‘I came back for you. And how did you repay me? By doing nothing to protect us, then condemning me.’
‘Sir, please. I did not condemn you.’
‘Of course you did. Through your silence. I thought better of you, Simo.’
Already on his knees, the Gaul clasped his hands. ‘Master Cassius, I cannot wilfully cause suffering to another. Our Lord tells us-’
‘I don’t care about your Lord. You know that. You belong to me and you should think of me first but I see now that’s impossible. Abascantius told me I shouldn’t keep you on while working for the Service. He was right.’
‘Master Cassius, please. Think of all we have been through these last few years. I have known only two masters in my whole life.’
‘How much money do you have — your savings?’
‘Not enough, sir. Nothing like enough.’
‘Then we both know what must happen. Get up off your knees.’
‘Please do not sell me, sir. I beg you.’
‘I will do what I can to find you a reasonable new owner. I promise you that much at least.’
Simo sat down on the other bed.
Cassius drank again and turned away from him. ‘I’m sorry to say it but I should not have gone back for you. If I had not, you would be in your precious Kingdom and I would have escaped with the others. That poor bastard in the outhouse would still be alive and I would not have to live with what I did to him.’
An hour later came a knock on the door. It was the proprietor’s wife, announcing that one of the captains was downstairs. Cassius took his money bag with the twenty aurei he had left. The skipper was sitting at the bar. He was surprisingly young but — judging by his clothing — a man of reasonable means.
‘Good evening.’
‘Good evening,’ said the captain in Latin. ‘I am Endymion, captain and owner of the Tyrus.’
‘My name’s Crispian. I need passage to Aila. Immediately.’
‘Unfortunately I am heading south tomorrow. I could take you north next week.’
‘That’s not good enough.’ Cassius waved at the proprietor. ‘What about the other ship?’
‘No reply yet. But the captain’s been laid up with fever for the past few weeks. Half his crew too. I wouldn’t expect much help from that quarter, sir.’
Cassius turned back to Endymion. ‘What if you were to delay your trip south? Add compensation to your price if you must.’
‘My hold is already half full. Some of it is perishable and will have to be unloaded if I head north.’
‘Just give me the price.’
‘How many of you?’
‘Two.’
‘Two hundred and fifty denarii.’
Cassius didn’t have the energy to negotiate. ‘Fine.’
He counted out five gold coins and handed them over.
‘You’ll get the other half when we arrive.’
‘Fair enough.’
‘How long?’
‘The weather is set fair. Depending on the winds, between four and six days.’
‘When will you be ready to depart?’
‘Let us say the fifth hour.’
Endymion was true to his word and the Tyrus left Leuke Kome on time under clear blue skies, the sun sparkling on the water. There were just six crew; apparently all either brothers or cousins of the captain. There was only one piece of cargo for the newly emptied hold — Patch. Cassius hadn’t the energy to argue about this either; he half-expected the captain to refuse but Endymion had transported livestock before and was convinced the weather would be kind.
The Tyrus had only a single sail but with a twenty-knot south-westerly to help them up the coast, they covered the miles swiftly. Cassius spent most of his time sitting at the mast, sipping from his flask. He had bought an entire barrel of the inn’s finest wine and doubted there would be much left by the time they reached Aila. The ankle still hurt but the swelling had lessened and he could negotiate the deck unaided.
The water that streamed past was the clearest he had ever seen. He spied schools of orange and yellow fish and so many dolphins that after a while he didn’t even bother to get up and watch them. The Tyrus passed sandbanks and small islands, all uninhabited. They encountered only a handful of other ships, some larger and farther out to sea, most much smaller — fishermen not venturing far from the coast.
When the morning mists cleared, Cassius sometimes caught sight of the Hejaz mountains. He looked away and kept drinking, as he did every time his thoughts turned to Galanaq. He grew to appreciate the beautiful blankness of the ocean and he used it to drive away what dwelt within him. It worked for a while, especially when he drank. At night he slept on deck, except when the ship was rolling and he had to wedge himself somewhere safer.
Strangely, he hardly dreamt. But when he awoke, the thoughts were there. The dead auxiliaries lying by the gate. Adayyid in that tomb. Khalima. And that poor bastard lying on the ground, shaking until he died because Cassius had struck him. Someone’s brother, someone’s son.
Simo spent much of his time checking on Patch and they barely spoke until the third day at sea. When the Gaul came to up collect Cassius’s breakfast plate he squatted next to him and asked whether he had reconsidered. Unusually, Cassius hadn’t yet started on his wine. He looked at Simo, at the round, kind face that had greeted him every morning for almost three years.
‘Sit.’
Simo did so.
‘How’s the mule?’
‘Off his food, sir, but he’s drinking well. Sleeping most of the time.’
Cassius looked out at the sea. ‘You must understand. This is not something I want to do. But you belong to me and a slave must do as his master bids. You have another master.’