As instructed, Clemens had been trying to locate Carius Asina. ‘I eventually found an administrator at the forum who knows him well. Asina and his family left for their estate as soon as they returned. We can get a message to them but-’
‘No, no, there’s no time for that,’ Cassius interjected. ‘And probably no need. I doubt they could offer any more information about this Dio than Viator did. What about Sudrenus’s slave?’
‘He lives in a fishing village on the other side of the citadel — quite a way along the coast. I sent one of the men on horseback to question him but I doubt he’ll be back before you leave.’
‘Right. Anything else?’
‘No. I went round most of the inns but nobody remembers him. By the way, is your bodyguard here?’
‘Yes. Why?’
‘This incident at the temple of Poseidon. Lot of talk about it. Some very angry people. It’s probably just as well that you’re leaving.’
Just then a young legionary shot out of an alley and ran over to them. Cassius didn’t recognise him.
‘Sir. Another sighting — a fisherman whose boat was moored up next to the Cartenna. There was a passenger. The crew had him sit on the wharf for an hour while they cleaned the decks. The fisherman noticed the sack and the boots.’
‘He’s sure?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Good work,’ Cassius told the legionary. ‘I’ll make sure you get your due.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
‘I may as well round the men up then,’ said Clemens. ‘Get them back to barracks.’
Cassius nodded. ‘Yes. You — and they — did well for me. It’s appreciated.’
‘You wouldn’t believe me if I told you I was a keen supporter of the Service, sir, but no Roman deserves what happened to Memor. It’s his poor wife and those girls I feel for. I hope you find the son of a bitch. Best of luck.’
Once he’d shaken forearms with Cassius, Clemens and the legionary set off back along the sea wall. Cassius returned to the way station. Simo had gone to buy provisions for the journey, leaving Indavara to pile the last of their gear in the little room by the door.
‘Now listen,’ Cassius told him. ‘Assuming they let this Korinth character out, we’re going to be stuck on a boat with him for the next few days. Can I rely on you to keep control of yourself?’
‘Who started it?’
‘All right, but evidently he’s a pretty fiery fellow. Just stay out of his way.’
Finished with the bags, Indavara leant back against the wall by the window.
‘You’re becoming a bit of a liability, my man,’ said Cassius.
‘What do you mean?’
‘You’re causing me more problems than you solve.’
Indavara shook his head but said nothing.
‘I mean kicking a priest,’ Cassius continued. ‘Whoever heard of such a thing?’
‘We got Viator, didn’t we?’
‘I almost had him anyway.’
‘And what would you have done if you’d caught him? Talk him into surrender?’
‘Very funny.’
Indavara crossed the room, stepped over one of the saddlebags and stood close to Cassius. ‘You know something, Corbulo?’
Cassius felt his throat dry. Indavara hardly ever addressed him by name.
‘One day I might not be around when you need someone scared or beaten up, or you pick a fight with the wrong people. And then you really will have a problem, won’t you?’
Indavara held Cassius’s gaze a moment longer then walked past him and out on to the street.
IX
In the murky gloom of early evening, with a light rain still falling, the passengers and crew of the Fortuna Redux stood in a line behind the deckhouse, waiting for Asdribar to begin the leaving ceremony.
The start of the tenth hour had just passed but, to Cassius’s surprise, the Carthaginian had managed to get the ship in some sort of order and assemble his crew. The full complement was twenty, but various individuals had already departed for different parts of the island so he was now down to twelve. Apart from Squint and Korinth, his other senior man was Opilio: a veteran of the Roman fleets about the same age as his captain. He seemed to be in charge of everything that went on below decks and had been supervising the loading of supplies. The other nine members of the crew were as rough and eclectic a bunch as Cassius had seen. He’d already heard conversations in four different languages, though it seemed Asdribar insisted on Greek for anything relating to the ship.
Cassius had hoped Annia might have a late change of heart, but she and Clara had already taken over the deckhouse by the time he, Indavara and Simo arrived. He’d briefly considered a last appeal to the girl but not only did he think it would fall on deaf ears, he simply hadn’t the energy for it. The long, taxing day had sapped his strength and all he wanted to do was go below and get settled in. Unlike many freighters, the Fortuna had four small cabins close to the stern, one of which Asdribar had put aside for them. They were yet to see their quarters; their gear was still piled up next to the hatch.
The captain was standing behind the two altars situated between the deckhouse and the stern. Both comprising cubes of stone mounted in wooden frames, one altar was inscribed with dedications in numerous languages while the other was stained pink with blood from sacrificed animals. Several cockerels had been brought aboard and one would be killed as a symbol of gratitude when they next reached port.
‘We shall begin,’ said the Carthaginian in Greek.
Cassius, Indavara and Simo stood to his right, with Annia and Clara (holding a parasol over her mistress) separating them from the crew. Asdribar had suggested to Cassius that they take a moment with Korinth and Indavara, but Cassius thought it best just to keep them apart, for the remainder of the day at least.
‘First, to the God of the Deep, Great Poseidon.’
Cassius was relieved to see no reaction from the crew. Even if Poseidon had been offended, the other gods were undoubtedly smiling on Indavara if none of the sailors had heard what he’d done to that priest.
Squint came forward with a jug and placed it on the altar.
‘This we give to you, Great Poseidon,’ said Asdribar, ‘so that we may in return see fair winds and calm seas.’ He spoke quietly — his voice barely audible above the low hiss of the rain striking the water — but invested his words with a compelling gravitas. ‘We humbly beg that you will be merciful, and see us safely on our way.’
He picked up the jug of wine, walked to the stern and poured it into the water. When he returned to the altar, Squint took the jug and handed the captain a little wooden bowl, which he placed on top of the inscribed stone.
‘Now, to the goddess Fortuna, whose name this vessel carries, and to whom we offer our riches, so that the vagaries of luck may favour us. Come and give, so that you shall receive the best and avoid the worst.’
One by one, the crew came forward and dropped a coin into the bowl. Annia did the same, prompting Cassius to wonder where she was keeping the rest of her money — several large bags, surely. He, Simo and Indavara each added a sesterce to the bowl.
With Korinth holding a cloth cover over the altar, Squint poured thick, scented oil over the coins. He then lit a match from a lantern and set the oil alight. As it sizzled and spat, Asdribar dropped the coins into the water.
‘Now I honour the gods of Carthage.’
The captain shut his eyes and spoke a few sentences in Punic.
Then came the turn of Opilio, who placed a small libation on the altar. ‘To Jupiter, great god, all offerings and prayers. I beg for favour and deliverance.’
Asdribar glanced at another of the crew. ‘And we acknowledge our friend Desenna. He worships the Hebrew god and will make his own prayers.’