‘I tried to keep pace, sir, but with all this-’
Simo was carrying his master’s sword-belt, helmet, cloak and satchel, which still had the spearhead sticking out of it.
‘And look at my gear,’ Cassius said. ‘Soaking wet!’
‘I’m really very sorry, sir. The cloak should be fine. I treated it with oil just the other day. I’m sure-’
‘I mean look at you, Simo.’
Thanks to a combination of sweat and rain, the Gaul’s tunic was clinging to his rather large stomach.
‘You’re simply too fat. With the type of work we’re involved in, it’s just not good enough. I shall have to put you on some sort of training regime. We shall start at the earliest opportunity.’
‘Where have I heard that before?’ said Indavara, turning from the counter with a large raisin cake in his hand.
‘Just give me that bloody page,’ Cassius told the Gaul.
‘Page, sir?’
‘From the harbour master’s logbook!’
‘Might I be excused, sir?’ asked the clerk as Simo rummaged in the satchel.
‘No you may not. Invariably something violent happens when I go to inns looking for people, so you can introduce me to this sailor if he’s there.’
‘I only really know him to pass a good day, sir.’
‘That’s good enough.’
Cassius took the page from Simo and examined it. ‘Here. The Cartenna. Arrived last week, left yesterday bound for Crete, third hour.’ Cassius turned to the clerk. ‘You know the ship?’
‘I do, sir. Been in a few times. The captain came in and paid his wharf dues first thing and they set off not long after.’
‘Do you know if Crete was his final destination?’
‘I don’t, sir.’
‘Right, once you’ve taken me to this inn, go back to Akritos. Simo, you’re to go with him. Pay him a denarius when you’re done.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘My sincere thanks, sir,’ offered the clerk.
‘I want to know everything there is to know about the Cartenna: routes they follow, shipping agents they work with, and — most importantly of all — who was on there. Go to Nariad’s revenue people if you have to. There, a chance to redeem yourself, Simo.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
‘Now hand me that cloak.’
A quarter of an hour later, Cassius and Indavara were ensconced in a booth in one corner of The Sea Serpent. With its small, grilled windows and the overcast sky outside, the inn was shrouded in gloom. Even so, it was easy to see that every one of the two dozen patrons made his living on the water: weathered faces; sun-bleached hair; thick, marked, blistered fingers. A group in one corner were on to the third verse of some nautical song. From what Cassius could gather, the tune celebrated the end of the sailing season and expressed gratitude to the gods that the singers had survived it.
Even though it was barely midday, the man sitting opposite him was nursing a huge mug of wine. ‘Squint’ was well named; Cassius could have picked him out even amongst his fellow seamen. His left eye was almost completely closed, his right bloodshot and yellowed. His thick beard — like his wispy hair — was the colour of fresh snow, apart from the strands dyed wine-red above his mouth. His arms lay on the table, encircling his mug. The wrinkled, leathery skin was reminiscent of old fruit and made it hard to read the words tattooed in green ink between his elbows and wrists. Cassius had decided it was probably a list of the ships he’d served on.
‘You wanted to talk, Roman,’ he croaked. ‘Talk.’
‘Tell me about the Fortuna Redux.’
‘You’ve never heard of her, boy?’
‘Should I have?’ Cassius replied impatiently, moving his wet cloak to the side of the bench he was sharing with Indavara.
‘The Fortuna’s the ship that did the Carthago Nova run in twelve days.’
‘I’m sure that’s very impressive, but what I really want to know is whether your vessel is available for hire.’
‘Now?’
‘Immediately. I need to get to Crete. Just three passengers but we must leave today.’
‘That’s up to the captain, boy.’
‘Would you mind not calling me “boy”. I’m an officer of the Roman Army, with a rank equivalent to centurion.’
Squint took a noisy slurp from his mug before answering. ‘Well done, lad.’
Indavara chuckled.
‘I need to see this captain of yours at once,’ insisted Cassius. ‘What’s his name — Asdribar?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Will you take me to him?’
Squint raised his mug. ‘Soon as I’ve finished this.’
The innkeeper came to the table and gave Cassius and Indavara the glasses of hot wine they’d ordered.
‘Drink up quickly,’ Cassius told Indavara, as he undid the top of his money bag.
The inn door clattered open. A gust of wind blew in and a bottle smashed on the floor. Tutting, the innkeeper looked at the mess next to his bar.
The booth was the fourth of four situated to the right of the door, which Cassius and Indavara were facing away from. Cassius turned, leant round the side of the booth and watched five men walk in. The innkeeper pointed at the first of them: a squat, buck-toothed ruffian with two swords on his belt.
‘Rassus, you’re barred — remember!’
‘I’m not here for drink. We’re after this foreigner — he beat up an old priest at the temple of Poseidon. Sergeants aren’t doing shit so we and the rest of the guild have decided to deal with him ourselves.’
Cassius turned back and looked at Indavara, who mouthed: ‘Hardly touched him.’
‘Big bastard apparently,’ added Rassus, ‘but he’s easily recognised — only got one ear. Anyone seen him?’
Because of where he was sitting, Indavara’s disfigured left ear was visible only to Squint and the innkeeper. Squint didn’t appear to have noticed.
Cassius felt Indavara reaching for his sword. He put his hand on the bodyguard’s wrist and glanced up at the innkeeper.
‘Well?’ said Rassus. ‘No one seen nothing?’
The innkeeper looked at Indavara. He had noticed the ear. Turning his attention to Cassius, he widened his eyes speculatively.
Cassius reached into his money bag and placed three denarii on the corner of the table.
The innkeeper looked at the money, then back at the gang.
Cassius added three more denarii.
‘No one’s seen this cocksucker then?’ demanded Rassus. ‘He must have been round the port.’
The innkeeper looked back at Cassius and subtly held out four fingers.
Shaking his head, Cassius added four more coins.
At last, the innkeeper spoke up: ‘That sounds like a no to me. Why don’t you go and disturb someone else’s customers?’
With a grunt, Rassus and his cronies left. As the door slammed shut, Indavara moved his hand away from his sword. Cassius leant back and sighed.
Squint finished off his wine and set down his mug. He then watched in amazement as the innkeeper slid the ten silver coins off the table into his hand and walked away, smirking.
The old sailor tapped his mug. ‘This was only a sesterce.’
Cassius shrugged. ‘Inflation.’
Despite its supposedly legendary reputation, at first sight the Fortuna Redux didn’t particularly impress. The ship was small for a freighter and the green paint of the hull had faded almost to grey. Under the bowsprit was a wooden rendering of Fortuna herself. The goddess had lost her nose and one breast and the only trace of colour left was the odd patch of yellow in her hair. In fact, she was really only identifiable by the outstretched hands cupping a stack of coins.
‘Ninety-five-foot long, twenty-three wide,’ stated Squint proudly as they walked along the narrow breakwater towards the vessel’s stern. ‘With a deep keel to keep her upright.’
‘Always helps,’ observed Cassius.
‘She can carry a hundred tons fully laden and make seven knots with all her sails up and a fair wind.’