‘Not often we get a chance to sup with two young ladies in the captain’s cabin,’ said the hold-chief with a ribald grin. Cassius reckoned he was even uglier than Abascantius, which was quite a feat. It had often occurred to him that there were few worse fates than to be born utterly unattractive, and he’d even postulated that it might be better to be a handsome slave than an ugly freeman.
At the bottom of the steps they met Indavara, who was still moving some of the scattered twig bales away from his bed. Cassius noticed a pail of water there too.
‘You coming along, Muscles?’ asked Opilio.
‘Yes.’
Indavara ran a hand through his hair, patting it down over his mutilated ear.
Cassius sniffed the air. ‘Are you wearing scent?’
‘What of it?’
‘Nothing,’ Cassius replied with a smile.
‘I too am wearing a perfume,’ Opilio announced. ‘Essence of the kitchens. Very powerful.’
‘Indeed it is,’ replied Cassius.
‘Come along then,’ said the hold-chief, starting up the squeaking steps. ‘I don’t suppose you two have met Marcus Aurelius yet, have you?’
Cassius and Indavara exchanged bemused glances, then followed him.
The mystery of Marcus Aurelius was quickly solved.
‘Ah yes,’ said Asdribar when Opilio mentioned him, ‘the oldest member of my crew.’
Cassius glanced at Squint when he heard this. The aged sailor was sitting to his right, next to Opilio, on one side of the table that had been moved into the middle of the deckhouse. Opposite the three men were Annia and Clara, each sitting on one of the beds. Annia’s hair had been plaited and tied so as to resemble a little crown. Asdribar was at the end of the table, closest to the door. Cassius had made sure he avoided being next to Annia, leaving Indavara the seat at the other end. The bodyguard looked rather awkward, perched on a low stool, trying very hard not to gaze at the young lady to his left. Asdribar reached into a locker and pulled out a wooden box.
‘I suppose I should have told you ladies — considering you’ve been sharing cabin space with him.’
As he put the box down on the table, Opilio and Clara moved their glasses out of the way. Everyone had already received a generous measure of the cinnamon wine. Asdribar looked around at his audience and took his time undoing the hook securing the little door on one side of the box.
‘Move the light,’ he told Squint, who pushed an oil lamp aside. ‘He likes the dark, you see.’
Indavara and Clara hunched forward, fixated on the box. Annia — like Cassius — was trying to resist the Carthaginian’s attempts at showmanship.
Asdribar opened the door. ‘And here he is.’
‘Here’s what?’ asked Indavara.
‘We can’t see anything,’ said Annia.
Asdribar knocked the top of the box. Cassius found himself leaning across the table.
Suddenly, there was a loud crack from outside. All the non-sailors jumped and Cassius barely avoided spilling wine down his tunic.
‘Just the yard shifting, sir!’ came the shout from Korinth.
‘I see it, I see it,’ announced Clara.
A clawed, scaly leg appeared out of the shadows.
Opilio placed a handful of carrot tops on the table. ‘I brought these for him.’
Indavara’s jaw dropped as the little creature emerged from the box and took slow, tottering steps across the table. ‘What is that?’
‘Never seen one?’ asked Cassius.
Indavara shook his head.
‘It’s a tortoise,’ said Annia, as if it were impossible someone might not know such a thing.
‘Remarkable animals,’ Cassius observed. He remembered pestering his parents to buy him one as a boy, but they’d been unable to find any in Ravenna. ‘They live to a good age, don’t they?’
‘Indeed they do, Officer,’ replied Asdribar.
Cassius examined the enigmatic grins on the faces of the captain and his crewmen. ‘What?’
‘Guess how old he is,’ said Opilio after a swig of wine.
‘I’ll give you a clue,’ added Asdribar. ‘He’s older than Squint. Just.’
The old sailor took this in good humour, holding his glass up to the captain.
Cassius shrugged and decided to aim high. ‘Sixty-five.’
Asdribar shook his head. ‘Keep going.’
‘Seventy,’ said Annia.
‘No.’
‘Eighty,’ offered Cassius.
‘You’ve a way to go yet,’ murmured Squint, rubbing his good eye with his fingers.
‘One hundred!’ yelled Clara, prompting laughter from Cassius and the sailors. Annia gave the maid a sharp look and pointed at her wine, indicating she’d already drunk enough.
‘Marcus Aurelius,’ Cassius said thoughtfully. ‘He can’t be.’
‘He is,’ said the captain. ‘Named after the man made emperor in the year of his birth.’
‘Which makes him one hundred and eleven.’
‘Exactly right.’
Asdribar took the box off the table and sat down. Marcus Aurelius was now nibbling at the green fronds of the carrot tops.
‘One hundred and eleven?’ said Indavara. ‘It’s impossible.’
‘It’s not,’ said Annia. ‘One of the longest-lived creatures there are.’
‘By Jupiter,’ said Cassius, who’d been busy with a few calculations. ‘There have been forty-four different emperors since then.’
‘Yes, he’s seen a lot of upheaval,’ said Asdribar. ‘Doesn’t seem to bother him much though.’ He turned to Clara. ‘I tried to offer him a wage once but he wouldn’t take a single coin.’
Clara giggled.
‘How did you come by him?’ Cassius asked.
‘He came with the ship,’ replied Asdribar. ‘And he’s been with us everywhere: up the great Egyptian river, through the gates of Byzantium, even out past the Pillars of Hercules.’
‘You’ve seen the Great Ocean?’ asked Cassius.
‘Me and Squint both. What was it? Twelve, thirteen years ago now? Up to Portus Cale on the west coast of Spain.’
‘What about Gaul and Britain?’ Cassius asked.
‘We didn’t get that far.’
Squint cleared his throat and spoke up: ‘A man sails too far past the Pillars, he sails beyond the reach of the gods, where worship and favour mean nothing. There is naught but the sea there; a huge, grey swell that rolls on for ever.’
Indavara took a long swig of wine.
‘Still,’ said Squint, with a little glance at Opilio. ‘Can’t really call yourself a sailor unless you’ve seen the Great Ocean with your own eyes.’
‘The amount you go on about it, I feel like I’ve been there,’ replied Opilio.
‘Tell me,’ said Cassius, leaning forward to address Asdribar. ‘Commander Litus. Surely not all the navy men you come across are like that?’
‘A shakedown,’ replied Asdribar matter-of-factly. ‘Just as I told you.’
‘He was one of the worst,’ added Opilio. ‘Officers weren’t that bad in my day.’
Squint made a noise that suggested he didn’t agree.
‘Exactly which part of the army are you from, Officer?’ asked Asdribar. ‘I’d not heard of this Imperial …’
‘Security Service. As you know, Miss Annia’s father was a very senior officer. The Service is — technically speaking — part of the army but in practice we often act independently. Basically we deal with specific threats to the Empire and the Emperor.’
Asdribar looked impressed. ‘Interesting work?’
‘Oh, certainly,’ said Cassius. ‘Eh, Indavara?’
Indavara looked mildly terrified at having to join the conversation.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Interesting.’
‘So Muscles here is your bodyguard?’ asked Opilio.
‘Indeed he is,’ said Cassius, adjusting his tunic sleeve, which had somehow folded over on itself. ‘And a damned good one at that.’
Indavara seemed rather embarrassed by the compliment but acknowledged it with a nod.
‘I can believe it,’ continued Opilio. ‘Knocked our mouthy young deck-chief on his backside, so I hear.’
‘That’s water under the bridge now,’ affirmed Asdribar.
‘Quite right,’ said Cassius. ‘How many years were you with the navy, Opilio?’