By the time they reached a wide gap in the Phoenician wall, there was barely enough light for them to see their way. Fortunately the hut was close. It had been built only a few yards above the high-water mark, on sandy soil surrounded by pebbles and weed. Atop the uneven stone walls was a sloping timber roof. The two doors — one facing east, the other west — were stained green at the bottom and hinged by lengths of rotting rope. Eborius pulled the west-facing door open and stood to one side.
‘In you go,’ he told Carnifex.
With a prod from Indavara, the centurion shuffled through the doorway. Eborius stayed outside and took a fire-starting kit from his pack. Cassius walked past him into the hut. It smelt of salt and fish.
‘Far corner. Against the wall,’ he said.
Cassius and Indavara kept their distance as Carnifex got down on his knees, then sat on the thin reed matting that constituted the hut’s floor. Eborius struck the flint with the fire-striker four times before he got a flame. He lit a tiny clay oil lamp and put it in the middle of the hut, then went back outside.
Carnifex calmly watched his captors. ‘So you followed Nicasias, eh, grain man?’
‘That’s right.’
‘How’d you connect him to me?’
‘We were at the quarry. We saw it all.’
Carnifex failed to hide his surprise at this, but recovered swiftly. ‘Reckon you two should go outside with your new friend and take a look at the sun. Might be the last one you ever get.’
‘I’m not listening to his shit all night,’ said Indavara. ‘May as well gag him now.’
‘Agreed.’
‘Can’t see the lamplight from outside,’ said Eborius as he returned.
‘Good,’ replied Cassius, taking a length of cloth from the pack. ‘Indavara, if you can again persuade the centurion that he would be wise to cooperate.’
Indavara leant the stave against the wall, then drew his sword and held the tip close to Carnifex’s throat.
‘Head forward,’ instructed Cassius.
‘You forgot to say “sir”, grain man.’
‘Head forward,’ Indavara repeated, pressing the metal into Carnifex’s skin.
‘You ain’t going to kill me, One Ear.’
‘Who says I have to kill you? Maybe I’ll just cut out your tongue — see how you like it.’
‘Head forward,’ Cassius repeated. Still grinning at Indavara, Carnifex finally complied. Cassius bent over him and placed the strip of material in his mouth.
The centurion managed a final taunt. ‘Be easier if your hands weren’t shaking.’
Cassius pulled the gag tight and tied it off. Indavara sheathed his blade, reclaimed the stave and stood over Carnifex.
Cassius followed Eborius outside. ‘What’ll you do once you’ve got rid of the cart?’
‘Get back to the barracks. Needs to look like a normal night when the men of the Second turn up — which might be fairly soon. I’ll be back before dawn.’
The very mention of the word reminded Cassius just how interminable the night would be. Twelve hours. And at this time of the year — when almost three-fifths of the day was spent in darkness — they were long hours.
Eborius gripped Cassius’s arm. ‘Corbulo. Watch him. Every single moment.’
‘I think he’s asleep,’ whispered Indavara. ‘Either that or he’s choked on the gag.’
Cassius took three steps across the hut and peered at the slumped shape next to the lamp. He could just about make out Carnifex’s chest moving up and down. He walked back to Indavara. ‘No. He’s still breathing.’
‘Pity.’
‘What do you think? Two hours gone? Seems like an eternity already.’
Indavara didn’t reply. Cassius knew that he sometimes struggled to keep track of time, which — on occasions like this — seemed almost a skill. Cassius had also noted his remarkable powers of concentration — he could easily spend three or four hours on a single task, a consequence of his training perhaps. It didn’t hurt, of course, if one lacked the intellect to consider wider matters or the grand scheme of things.
Cassius could seldom avoid doing so. His mind had a tendency to wander and he constantly had to remind himself to stay alert, focus on the job in hand. But as he stared at the dark shape on the other side of the hut, he felt his eyelids getting heavier by the moment. He and Indavara had been checking outside at regular intervals, so he decided to take his turn.
‘Won’t be a moment.’
The chill wind woke him up soon enough. He brushed his hair out of his eyes and looked west along the shore. He thought of those black kites from the gorge; imagined them flying high past beaches and coves and cliffs before finally reaching the harbour at Apollonia and the sprawl of Cyrene. Fifty miles — they might be there in two days.
It wasn’t until he turned east towards the town that he saw the torches. Some were close to the warehouses but another group were moving along the breakwater towards the Fortuna. Cassius had expected as much. But who were they? Men of the First Century or the Second? They’d find no trace of Carnifex on the ship, but what if they realised Cassius and Indavara weren’t aboard?
There was, however, a more pressing concern: the group in the harbour had split in two, one heading east, the other heading west along the shore path.
‘Shit.’
Keeping his eyes fixed on Carnifex, Indavara backed up to the door.
‘What is it?’
‘Looks like a search party. Coming our way.’
‘Here. Swap.’
As Cassius took his turn to guard the sleeping centurion, more questions assailed him. Would the legionaries remember the hut? Would they see it from the path?
All they could do was wait. Every few moments Cassius would stick his head out of the door to see how much closer the torches were. At one point he heard — or imagined he heard — Carnifex say something. He walked over to the lamp and looked down; the centurion was asleep but mumbling into the gag.
‘They’re coming off the path, straight towards us,’ said Indavara.
Cassius retreated to the doorway. ‘All of them?’
‘No. Some are continuing along the shore. One torch. Looks like two men.’
Cassius felt a tap on his arm.
‘Hold this.’ Indavara offered him the stave. ‘If he stirs, hit him again.’
Sliding his blade out of its scabbard, Indavara continued: ‘What do I do if they’re Carnifex’s men?’
Cassius took the stave. ‘Whatever you have to.’
Now he could hear the soldiers’ boots striking pebbles as they strode across the sand. He snatched a glimpse of the shadowy figures below the torch. They were no more than five yards away when one of them spoke.
‘It’s Noster. We’re coming in. Stay out of sight.’
Indavara hurried inside and stood by Cassius, who wiped sweat away from above his mouth.
Noster walked in, the sizzling torch in his hand. The second soldier was another of the men who’d been at the quarry. They spied Carnifex in the corner and stared at him. The centurion’s eyes opened. He squinted up at the torch, then grunted as he struggled to free himself, teeth bared over the gag.
Indavara moved closer to him and waved his sword in Carnifex’s face.
‘Calm yourself, old man.’
‘Some of the First Century are with us,’ explained Noster, still unable to take his eyes off Carnifex. ‘We volunteered to check in here — all part of the show.’
‘What about the ship?’
‘Don’t worry. Eborius and some men from the First. Bunch of idiots — they don’t even know who was on there to start with, let alone who might be missing.’ Noster grinned, his uneven teeth lit red by the flames. ‘Procyon and Mutilus aren’t coping well. They’re panicking.’
‘You should go,’ said Cassius.