The galley was moving quickly, the sixteen oars dipping in and out of the water at speed, leaving a thick trail of foaming wake. Simo slowed the horses as he came up behind the ship. Below the sternpost was a bronze plaque. Shostra had told him the vessel’s name and there it was: Radians. One man was operating the tiller, another — the captain perhaps — stood next to him. Six other sailors were on deck, coiling ropes. They soon noticed Simo, and watched him as they worked. The captain looked up at the bank too.
Simo kept his head facing forward, but his eyes stayed on the galley. As he passed each rank of oars, he could make out the dark, muscled forearms of each slave beyond the port-hole. There was no sign of anyone else. He passed the bow and drove the exhausted horses onward. He could see the cranes and warehouses of the port a couple of miles ahead.
‘Dear Lord, grant me strength.’
XXXIV
It was the shivering that woke Cassius: a sharp, icy chill that ran up his spine and across his shoulders. Raising his hands to rub his eyes, he realised his wrists were tied together. He shifted and felt a fiery pain on the left side of his skull. He could hear a rhythmic beating sound coming from somewhere ahead of him. He made himself stay still. Slowly, the pain receded.
Where am I?
A bright light somewhere above. He was sitting with legs stretched out in front of him, his back against a hard surface. He moved his neck and felt something sticky on the left side of his neck — dried blood, he guessed.
Dreams? That pile of mutilated bodies in the cavern? Major butchered in front of him by that laughing warrior?
Water dripped on to his lap. He looked up and saw blackened timbers, then a square of bright blue sky. Clouds too; and a gull swooping by on the wind. That noise. The beating. A drum for oarsmen. He was on the ship.
A key turned. The door in front of him swung inward, and Kaeso Scaurus walked in. The smile on that cherubic face seemed so innocent, so genuine, that Cassius almost smiled back.
‘Ah, you’re awake at last.’
Scaurus was wearing a simple long-sleeved tunic, with only the finger-rings and a gold-plated belt buckle to mark him out as a man of means. He was armed with a long, narrow dagger. He stood over Cassius and looked down at his head.
‘Ouch.’
Running a hand through his curls, Scaurus leaned back against a thick pile of sailcloth.
‘I have some questions.’
‘Me too,’ replied Cassius. He was struck by the strangeness of his own voice; it sounded thin and weak.
Scaurus smiled again. ‘I’m afraid I will have to insist on accurate answers.’
‘Me too.’
Scaurus chuckled and looked Cassius over. ‘You are rather pretty, grain man. I do like your face. But be under no illusions — I will get what I need from you.’
Cassius thought of Simo; remembered sending him to Abascantius. It was morning now; that had been hours ago. Why had no one come to help him?
‘What does he know?’ asked Scaurus.
‘Who?’
‘Pitface.’
‘I have no idea. The last time I saw him he was headed for the imperial mint. But I suspect you already know that.’
Scaurus shrugged. ‘Don’t suppose he needed much encouragement to finger his old friend the procurator, did he? It seemed wise to keep the fat swine occupied. I heard from Quarto that Octobrianus was unveiling some new coins to Gordio there last night. I imagine there was quite a scene.’
Cassius’s head was clearing. He ran over the events of recent days.
‘It must have started with Nabor, I suppose. The misdirection.’
Scaurus nodded. He seemed rather proud of himself. ‘You had a narrow escape there. Pythion wanted to kill you right away — as soon as you started sniffing around — but that would have invited too much attention. Better to put you on another trail. How did you come to Nabor by the way?’
Cassius told Scaurus about the merchant’s slave and tracing Nabor to the glass factory.
‘You were lucky.’
‘Perhaps,’ said Cassius. ‘But you didn’t control your people.’
‘Pythion’s mistake, not mine.’
‘Who were the others? The men who took the cart.’
‘Whoever he could get. Brigands, mercenaries. Even a few ex-legionaries, as I recall. There wasn’t time to be too picky.’
‘And Silus? Bacara? Or whatever their names were. You wouldn’t find a talented pair of actors like that just anywhere.’
‘True, true. They had done a few jobs for me before. Do you know how I first met them? They tried to con me out of five thousand denarii with a property scam. They were lovers. A shame really.’
‘But they had outlived their usefulness. Just like the others. Turpo. Tarquinius. Even Pythion.’
Scaurus nodded approvingly. ‘You’ve been to the guild house again.’
‘We followed you from there. Do you have even an ounce of regard for human life?’
‘You seem to have answered your own question.’ Scaurus pushed himself off the sailcloth and came closer. ‘But what interests me is whether you got a message to Abascantius. Or your one-eared friend. I don’t like surprises.’
‘I’ll tell you — because I’ve seen enough to know what you’ll do to me if I don’t. But will you satisfy my curiosity about a few things first?’
Scaurus shrugged. ‘Quicker than torturing you, I suppose.’
‘Quarto and Ulpian. They know nothing of all this?’
‘Those two idiots? Hardly. I took them out for a sail just a couple of days ago. They were standing on the deck above this very spot, drinking my finest Falernian. How I would love to see their faces when they find out.’
‘And the Sons of Antioch?’
‘A useful charade. And not only for myself, I might add. But it has been especially beneficial in the last few weeks.’
‘And what happened at the baths? You said you’d decided not to kill me.’
‘Once Pythion heard about your first visit to the guild house he panicked. And when he found out you were with Abascantius he took it upon himself to act. Could be a little impetuous at times.’
‘How did you know him?’
‘Oh, he was my half-brother. He and our father shared an unfortunate inability to control themselves.’
Cassius shook his head; such ruthlessness was hard to comprehend.
‘He was always on about some money-making scheme or another,’ Scaurus continued. ‘Told me one of his old soldier mates knew about this stash of Palmyran treasure. I said I wasn’t interested at first. Then I began to think about it. .’
Scaurus shut the door.
‘It’s best they don’t see what I have here. Wouldn’t want a mutiny on my hands.’
He walked over to the barrel Cassius had half-opened the previous night. The lid had now been removed. Scaurus scooped out handfuls of coins, then retrieved a slender ingot of gold. He held it up to the light shining in through the hatch. Cassius could make out the Palmyran brand.
‘Look at that beauty. And there are a hundred more like it. A hundred!’
Cassius took a deep breath. ‘What about the Persian banner?’
‘Yes, I wondered what that old thing was. Couldn’t ask anyone about it of course, so I had to send one of my clerks to the library.’
‘It’s here?’
‘No. I burned it.’
Cassius let his head fall back against the barrel. He hadn’t even found the flag. Major had died for absolutely nothing; and now he faced the same fate.
‘Only joking,’ said Scaurus with a gloating smile. ‘It’s here somewhere. Don’t see why the Persians think it’s so special. I do like the gems though.’
Scaurus replaced the gold in the barrel.
Cassius shook his head and sighed with relief. ‘But you are already a rich man,’ he said. ‘Why?’