Like many of the villas, the dwelling next door was surrounded by a low wall. Eborius held up a hand to indicate Indavara should stay put, then ducked down, crossed the alley and skirted along the wall to the right. Indavara came up to the doorway and heard the others lining up behind him. Eborius crouched at the corner of the wall and looked north, then motioned for Indavara to follow.
Indavara was already moving when Lentellus tugged the back of his tunic.
‘Wait,’ whispered the legionary. ‘Look there — to the left.’
The four tribesmen were on foot, heading south behind the row of villas. Eborius was still looking up the street. Indavara stepped back into the darkened room and waved the others back too, then put an arrow against the bowstring and peered round the doorway.
The Maseene were carrying firewood and seemed to be looking for more. Two were wearing what looked like recently appropriated cloaks and another had an army-issue helmet on his head. Not one was carrying a javelin, though all four were equipped with arm daggers. They stopped at the end of the alley, talking loudly. The warrior with the helmet was older than the others and his matted black hair fell almost to his waist. He nodded along the alley towards where Eborius had been.
Indavara guessed the centurion must have seen the tribesmen and somehow hidden himself.
One of the other Maseene seemed to disagree with the older warrior, who responded by raising his voice and setting off down the alley. Indavara heard the dull scrape of swords being drawn behind him. The other tribesmen relented and followed their compatriot.
Indavara withdrew another step and tightened his grip on the bowstring, wishing he had a sword in his hand.
The four Maseene walked right past the door, two of them laughing about something. Indavara couldn’t hear their bare feet on the ground, but when the voices faded he moved forward.
After a time, Eborius reappeared at the corner, hand still on his undrawn sword.
‘All clear.’
Indavara followed him out of the alley, then left along the front of the villas. The Via Cyrenaica was just up ahead. Indavara looked around; despite the ever-darkening sky, their position seemed dangerously exposed. As if to confirm this, two horsemen trotted into view on the road.
Eborius, Indavara and the others crouched down and pressed themselves against a wall. In a moment the riders were gone but then came the shouts of more Maseene, sounding alarmingly close. Eborius turned left through the next entrance and lifted a timber that had fallen across the villa doorway. Indavara covered the street and was last in behind Noster.
‘By Mars, they’re bloody everywhere,’ said Adranos.
Eborius undid his chinstrap and took off his helmet. ‘I’ll go forward and check the road, see if there’s any way across. I could use someone to watch my back.’
Indavara almost volunteered but knew he should stay with Annia.
‘I’ll come, sir,’ offered Noster.
‘No,’ said Corbulo. ‘Allow me. I want to see the road for myself.’
‘As you wish,’ said Eborius. ‘I think I know where we can get a good view. The rest of you sit tight. We’ll be back soon.’
At the first sight of the Maseene, Asdribar gave the order. Simo had been down below with Clara — helping the townspeople as they settled into the now very cramped hold — but once he heard the shouts from above he hurried up to the deck, arriving just as the sailors cast off.
Korinth, Desenna and two other men gave the Fortuna a final push, then jumped aboard. Asdribar waited until she was clear, then instructed the four men manning the port side to put out their oars and turn the ship round. Even as he shouted orders, the captain kept his eyes on the tribesmen — they had just reached the end of the causeway.
There were perhaps twenty of them, all barefoot and clad in their pale, baggy tunics. A few were wielding javelins; all were carrying bottles or jars, presumably filled with wine. When they saw the Fortuna on the move, half a dozen left the main group and ran past the collapsed dock on to the eastern breakwater. But Asdribar had made his calculations; he knew he could get his ship out of the harbour before the tribesmen reached them.
That didn’t stop the small group of warriors trying, and they didn’t seem overly concerned by the uneven concrete beneath their unprotected feet. Korinth and Desenna each took a bow from the barrel of weapons and positioned themselves by the starboard side-rail.
Once the Fortuna had been turned round, swift, deep strokes from the eight oarsmen sent her cutting through the water towards the entrance. With Squint on the helm, Asdribar moved up to the mast and silently directed the veteran with his hands. As the bow came level with the breakwaters, he shouted down to Opilio and the oars were retracted.
One of the local women and a teenage boy came up the steps to look out of the hatch, but a shout from Asdribar sent them straight back down. As the oars were run out again and the ship picked up speed once more, the Maseene reached the end of the breakwater. Korinth and Desenna drew their bows and aimed their arrows but the warriors had already settled for triumphant jeering. The javelins stayed in their hands and the only object thrown was a wine bottle that plopped into the middle of the Fortuna’s wake. Korinth and Desenna lowered the bows.
Simo looked back over the stern at the town. He had kept up with his prayers but now dark thoughts overwhelmed him. Were they still alive, perhaps even watching the ship depart? Or were they lying somewhere, injured or dead, victims of the Maseene or Carnifex and his men?
‘Keep her heading north,’ Asdribar told Squint before walking over to Simo. ‘You better get below again and make yourself useful — keep those people away from my oarsmen.’
Without a word, the Gaul walked back towards the hatch.
‘Simo,’ said Asdribar.
The Gaul halted at the top of the steps.
‘I had no choice.’
Cassius had expected Eborius to move directly north towards the road but he headed west. As they edged round one of the stone cisterns, Cassius asked him why.
‘I want to see the square too. We’re nearly there.’
‘What about the ship?’
‘You want to make a dash for it without seeing what’s in your way? Go ahead.’
It seemed impossible to move more than ten paces without running into Maseene, and without the gloom of twilight to hide them the short journey might have taken hours. But Cassius was relieved to note the sun still hadn’t quite set when they reached a large villa that faced the square. As he followed the centurion along the overgrown path that bisected the villa’s courtyard, he could hear fires crackling and the victorious cries of the tribesmen.
Eborius paused by the rear door. Cassius rested the butt of the javelin on the ground and took the opportunity to check behind them. For one brief, chilling moment, he thought he could see two men — one with a spear — but he almost laughed when he realised what he was actually looking at. The flames from the square had illuminated a fresco on the courtyard’s rear walclass="underline" the goddess Venus reclining on a giant seashell. The ‘spear carrier’ was in fact a nymph holding a fishing rod. Cassius’s aunt had the very same picture at her summer villa.
Eborius tapped him on the shoulder and pointed up and to the right. On the other side of the villa was a small tower, complete with miniature battlements and a conical tiled roof. The centurion led Cassius into the pitch-black interior. Fortunately, the noise from the square was more than sufficient to cover their stumbling, curse-ridden progress through the villa. The tower was accessed by a steep staircase and they eventually emerged into a tiny circular space that seemed to have remained untouched since the residents had left. Though everything was covered with a thick layer of dust, there were floor cushions, a miniature brazier, even a shelf stacked with scrolls and books.