‘Corbulo.’
‘What?’
‘In future, if you laugh at me or make me look a fool, I’ll leave. I’ve enough money. I’ll just go.’
Cassius doubted that, because he was pretty sure Indavara had nothing — and no one — to go to. But he nodded anyway.
As midday approached, the mist seemed to roll out from the island, shrouding the coast and enveloping the ship; by the time they were nearing Cnossus, visibility was down to less than a hundred yards. The wind had dropped too, and the Fortuna slipped gently through the water, barely making way. While the sailors went about their work, the five passengers stood by the deckhouse, gazing into the white nothingness.
‘Thank the gods they’ve still got that lighthouse working,’ said Asdribar.
The orange dot off the port bow was quite clear; firelight magnified by burnished bronze mirrors.
‘Our luck had to run out some time,’ said Squint, who was back on the helm. ‘At least we know where we are. When’s the turn?’
Asdribar consulted the small leather-bound book he had earlier retrieved from the deckhouse. Cassius was standing behind him and he’d deduced that each page referred to some anchorage or approach. Scrawled notes, figures and diagrams covered every inch of the paper. ‘When the light’s five points off the bow.’
Though there was so little breeze that the mainsail was barely filling, the mist seemed to have chilled the air and Cassius was glad he’d told Simo to bring up his scarlet officer’s cloak. It really was remarkably warm — hardly surprising given the wool was a third of an inch thick.
‘Net in the water! Port side,’ came the cry from the bow.
‘Stay as you are,’ Asdribar told Squint.
Something scraped along the hull. Cassius looked over the side and saw a ragged old fishing net drifting towards the port rudder housing. Attached to it were several green glass marker buoys. Without an order, Desenna grabbed a boathook, leant out over the side-rail and flicked the net out of the way so that it didn’t foul the housing.
‘Clear, Captain.’
‘Well done.’
At first Cassius thought he was imagining the sound of voices drifting across the water, but he saw that the others could hear them too.
‘Sure we’re not in too close?’ queried Squint.
‘That’s why I don’t let you navigate, old man,’ replied Asdribar. ‘Never sure of yourself.’
‘What would you do if there was no lighthouse?’ Cassius asked.
Asdribar smiled and tapped his nose.
The mist closed even tighter around the Fortuna, until there was little more than a hundred feet of the calm, dark sea visible in any direction. Apart from the odd word from the sailors, and the creaking of the Fortuna’s hull, all was quiet. Then an unseen flock of squawking birds flew overhead. When the silence returned it seemed doubly oppressive.
‘Down to about fifty feet, Captain!’
The mainsail now hung limply from the yard. Cassius looked down at the water and decided they were almost stationary.
‘Opilio!’ Asdribar yelled.
‘Captain?’ came the voice from the hatch.
‘Those oars ready?’
‘Ready.’
‘How’s your rowing, Officer?’ Asdribar asked over his shoulder.
‘Not bad,’ Cassius answered.
‘Good, because I’m light a few oarsmen.’
Cassius grinned as Asdribar turned round.
‘I’m serious,’ said the Carthaginian. ‘We can’t afford to drift out here for long. If the wind doesn’t pick up, it’ll be all hands to the oars.’
Cassius’s smile had disappeared; the situation would have to be dire indeed before he played galley slave. He looked at the others. Simo and Indavara were still peering out at the mist. Clara was hanging on to her mistress’s arm, eyes wide. To her credit, Annia looked the most composed.
‘Desenna, lower the weight,’ ordered Asdribar.
The sailor reached into an alcove built into the starboard side-rail and pulled out a coil of rope with knots at regular intervals. Attached to the end was a hefty iron cylinder. Once the rope was uncoiled, he lowered the weight into the water.
‘Tarkel,’ yelled Asdribar. ‘Anything?’
The lad had earlier climbed up the series of little poles affixed to the mast and now sat on top of the yard. Cassius had completely forgotten about him and — when he looked up — found he could barely make him out through the swirling mist.
‘I think it’s even worse up here, Captain!’
‘Neptune’s beard, I’ve not seen a fog like this for a while,’ observed Squint.
‘You’ve not seen anything properly for longer than a while,’ said Asdribar.
Some of the crew exchanged a few words, then pointed to the women and said something to Asdribar in Punic. The captain silenced them instantly.
‘They’re blaming us,’ Annia said quietly. ‘They think it’s bad luck to have women aboard.’
‘Don’t you worry about them, miss,’ said Asdribar.
‘Thirty feet,’ Desenna announced, before bringing up the weight.
Squint whistled. ‘There are shoals west of the harbour, remember?’
Asdribar didn’t answer him. He was studying his notes.
Cassius tried not to imagine jagged rocks slicing through the timbers of the hull, water flooding into the hold, filling the cabins, coming up through the hatch …
‘That’s it,’ said Asdribar. ‘Sail hands — get ready to bring your lines in. Squint — come to port until the light’s dead ahead.’
The veteran eased the tillers to the right and the bow of the Fortuna slowly swung round. The sail hands looked up as they made their adjustments to the huge square of cloth above them.
‘We’re in the approach channel now,’ Asdribar said, turning to face his passengers. ‘Not far to the harbour.’
‘Will we be able to dock in this fog?’ asked Annia.
‘Not a chance, miss. Nor will anyone see us coming. No, once we’re inside the breakwaters, we’ll drop the anchor. Excuse me.’
As the captain made his way forward, Korinth came back to check on the mainsail. It took a good deal of hauling on various ropes to change the angle of the yard, but by the time it was done the wind seemed to have picked up. Cassius felt a slight breeze on the back of his neck. He looked over the stern; the Fortuna was again leaving a thin wake.
‘Officer Corbulo,’ said Annia, ‘Might I ask what you plan to do when we reach the port?’
Cassius retreated to the side-rail, so that he could address Annia and still see what was going on at the bow. Asdribar was on his knees under the bottom of the foresail, gazing into the mist.
‘That rather depends on what we find there, miss.’
‘You are aware of the size of the island?’
‘Indeed I am.’ Cassius gave her a cordial smile. ‘As you now know, philosophy is not a strength of mine but my geography, and my eyesight, are really quite reasonable.’
‘I meant only that it could be difficult — to find one man.’
‘Very difficult. And as I mentioned before, this affair may not end here.’
Squint spoke up: ‘Don’t mind me sticking my nose in, but we might not be going anywhere if this fog keeps up or the weather closes in. Couple of years back we were stuck on Crete for half the winter.’
‘Sir, a mast!’ came a cry from above. ‘Just off the port bow.’
Asdribar held his hand out to the right. Squint altered his course, only straightening up when the captain put his hand down again.
‘Fifty yards!’ added Tarkel.
The other passengers filed past Squint to join Cassius at the port side-rail.
‘Coming towards us!’
Cassius couldn’t see anything yet.
‘There!’ said Annia.
Cassius followed the line of her outstretched arm. The bow of another ship was emerging from the mist.
‘Thirty yards!’ announced Tarkel.
Now they could see figures on the foredeck. They heard shouting.
‘Punic?’ said Annia.
‘Yes,’ confirmed Cassius.