On they went, until Cassius could feel his arms burning and sweat on his back. To their left were high banks of reeds, to their right the scattered lights of the city. Occasionally a snatch of singing would drift across the water towards them.
Kaeso Scaurus. He could hardly believe it. The ostenatious host, this vulgar, almost comical man — a robber and murderer? Cassius reminded himself that Scaurus was a slave-trader. It hardly defied belief that he held human life in such low regard, or that he might be prepared to use anyone — and dispose of anyone — to get his way. There had been that moment at the dinner party with the young slave when his cruel nature had been there for all to see. And Antonia felt he had given up on obtaining office in the city, been unusually rude and impolitic; had he known his days in Antioch were numbered?
And what of the banner? If he was acting alone, did he even understand the true significance of the object in his possession? If he was working with others, why did they want it?
Forcing himself to focus on the job in hand, Cassius put in a few wide strokes to keep them on course. Major was powering them along well from the rear, and he had to keep his concentration to compensate.
They passed an area of the river bank lined with sections of the old city walls, then followed the eastern channel as the Orontes split around the island. Once or twice, Cassius heard heavy splashes close to the shore — rats, he guessed. He looked up and saw that Scaurus’s boat was pulling away. He increased his stroke.
Soon they were passing under the arches of the closest bridge, past the smelly, salty weed that clung to its bricks. Now there were more river craft: a few rich types being rowed home by their attendants, and some noisy drunks on a moored barge.
Then the broad arches of Hadrian’s Bridge loomed out of the darkness. Cassius slowed down and watched Scaurus’s boat clear the bridge, then put in next to the galley at his private dock. Cassius nodded to the left; and they made for the wall of the nearest arch. He shipped his oar and put out his hands. His fingers touched only slick stone covered with weed, but then he found an iron ring which he used to pull the boat in. He soon realised there was a line of the rings, and he and Major hauled the little vessel along to the front of the arch. Leaning forward over the bow, Cassius peered out at the dock.
It was well lit by more than a dozen lanterns. Scaurus was already out of the boat. He had a brief conversation with a guard standing close to the bow of the Radians, then strode towards the House of the Dolphins. The other four — still with their heavy bags over their shoulders — weren’t far behind.
Cassius turned round. ‘Let’s take a closer look.’
They cast off from the bridge and let the tide take them down past the dock, using the oars only to keep away from the main stream. Cassius examined the galley. He guessed the Radians was eighty feet long, perhaps twenty wide. The sail and the yard were lying on the deck and eight ranks of oars now rested in their holes. Several barrels had been tied down behind the deckhouse. The galley looked ready to sail.
As they drifted past the stern, Cassius spied a second guard. Sculling gently with his oar, holding the boat in place, he stared hard at the hull. Were there other barrels below decks? The eighteen small, heavy barrels he had tracked across Syria?
‘We shall go alongside,’ he whispered.
‘What?’ replied Major.
Cassius almost wavered then. It would be so easy to let the boat float away downstream. Major certainly wouldn’t complain. But the same determination that had possessed him at the villa was with him again. If he could confirm the banner and the treasure were aboard the Radians, this whole affair might be resolved in a matter of hours. He had to know.
Cassius dug his oar in deep again and made for the ship. Major let out a long breath but did his part. They approached the galley slowly, easing closer until they were just yards away from the high hull. Manoeuvring between two of the long oars, they came alongside with a slight bump. Cassius reached for the rope and tied it around the oar just above his head. He indicated that Major should hold them off with his arm, to avoid the hulls banging together.
Cassius looked down at his sword belt and thought about putting it on, but he knew it would get in the way or knock against something. He still had his dagger. He clambered back to the middle seat, facing Major.
‘If anything goes wrong, tap on the hull,’ he whispered. ‘I’ll get back here as soon as I can.’
Cassius stood up on the seat, a hand on the galley to steady him. He placed one boot into the oar-hole, launched himself upward and gripped the side rail with both hands. He then climbed over it and hunched down on the deck. It was still wet from the rain.
He had come aboard close to the mast. He stood up for a moment and saw that the guards were still keeping station at either end of the ship. Towards the stern, in the middle of the deck, was a dark square: the main hatch, he guessed. He got down on his hands and knees and crawled towards it, feeling ahead for any obstacles.
Once there, he raised his head and looked along the lighted path that led to the southern wing of the villa. Away to the right, the grass sloped down to where he had stood just days ago, watching Scaurus’s antics and talking to the governor’s daughters.
Ducking down, he rounded the edge of the hatch. Reaching the first of the wide steps, he descended slowly on his backside, step by step. He could smell pitch; perhaps the galley’s hull had been freshly lined for a long journey.
By the time he reached the bottom, he could see barely a yard in front of his face. But as he crawled towards the bow and his eyes adjusted, he found he could use the dim light from the oar-holes to measure his progress. Beyond the last pair was a short set of steps leading downward. He continued on and saw an open hatch that admitted enough moonlight to illuminate the forward hold. He got to his feet and began his search.
He moved slowly and carefully, so as not to dislodge anything and make a noise. To the left of the hold he found only sailing gear: spars, rope, blocks, piles of sailcloth. By the bow were water barrels and trays of food. There could be no doubt now: the Radians was going somewhere.
To the right a large square of canvas had been laid over something. Cassius gently pulled it away and knelt down in front of the objects underneath. He put out his hands and found the first of the small barrels. It seemed about the right size. He gripped each side and tried to move it. Heavy. Very heavy.
He tried the lid but it had been nailed down. There were more barrels behind it and to the side. He counted as he touched each in turn and was up to ten when he found one with a loose lid. He tried to open it with his fingers but a few nails were still in place. He pulled out his dagger and finished the job, slowly prising up half the lid. When he had an inch of clear space, he wedged the lid open with his knife and put his other hand inside.
His fingers slid over the cold, tightly packed coins. He took one, then stood and held it up by the hatch. This coin was in excellent condition. Even in the moonlight, he could see both the crossed swords commemorating Artaxata and the portrait of Marcus Aurelius. Cassius put the coin in his money bag and smiled in the darkness. It was hard to resist the temptation to look for the banner, but he set off straight away.
He was halfway back to the main hatch when he heard footsteps and voices. The ship shifted slightly as several people came on board. Cassius ducked down by an oar but it soon became obvious the party were heading for the stern. He heard several items thump down on the deck and prayed to the great gods that the men would leave their loads and return to the villa. He carried on to the hatch and waited at the base of the steps, staring upward. He could hear them — servants by the sound of it.