‘I’m saying it’s all down to us, and that’s how I like it.’
‘So what do you suggest we do now?’
‘We wait for the right moment and get out fast with the doings, why not?’
‘The attendants, remember?’
‘Two little servants? Nothing to worry of, Greek.’
‘These are compulsors!’
Marius levered himself up. ‘So?’
‘Known in the business world as “tax extraction agents”, and hard men, believe me, friend!’
‘Oh?’
‘They know all the tricks, have been everywhere, eat a Sarmatian muscleman for breakfast – each – and are blind loyal to Justinian. Only sent in where other persuasions fail.’
‘Why…?’
‘Can’t you see it? There’s two ways to look at it. Either he believes that we’re two innocent holy men needing protection from a wicked world, can’t be let out alone – or he wants us to get the silk seeds, then these two seize ’em, and after disposing of us in a permanent way, present them to their master, secret safe.’
‘Ah…’
‘So we’re in trouble either way, my good friend.’
‘What’s that bloody noise?’ Marius groaned, awakening in the pre-dawn light.
The insistent knocking made Nicander stir, too. ‘See what the matter is,’ he muttered, pulling his blanket over his head.
Cursing under his breath, Marius opened their cell door. Two men stood patiently. ‘What do you want?’ he growled.
‘Are you gentlemen not yet risen? Sorry to disturb. We’re your attendants come for you,’ said the taller of the two.
‘Can we enter? Get acquainted, like.’
‘Well, make yourselves at home!’ Marius said sarcastically as they pushed past. Both, he noted, wore a knee-length chlamys, plenty of room to conceal weapons.
Nicander emerged from under his blanket. ‘Why are you here at this hour? We’re-’
‘Ship sails soon. We’re to see you on it.’
‘I don’t think I caught your names.’
‘I’m Velch the Tuscan and he’s Nemasus of Massilia.’
‘We’re here just to keep you gentlemen safe, looking after details, like. Wouldn’t want a nasty barbarian taking advantage of you holy gentlemen, now would we?’
‘So, you’re guarding us. And our chest, too?’
‘Ah, now you’ve no need to worry yourselves about that there,’ he chuckled. ‘It’ll all be taken care of – just you get us to this Seres place and we’ll be doing all the rest.’
Nicander didn’t miss the quick flash between the two.
‘We’re holy men and used to our privacy. I trust this will be respected?’
‘Of couuurrrse!’ purred Velch. ‘We’ll be no bother at all.’
Nemasus produced two small bags from the hallway, which he tossed on one of the beds. ‘You can take as much as you like on the boat – as long as it fits in those. We’ll be back in an hour.’
Velch stood in the doorway, Nemasus to one side.
‘We are ready to proceed,’ Nicander said, looking pointedly at their bags.
The two compulsors did not move.
‘Our luggage?’
‘We don’t carry bags. Gets in the way of a sword arm, like. Now, if you holy gentlemen would go on ahead where we can keep an eye on you.’
In the quiet of the early morning the little group moved through the palace compound and out to the small harbour by the lighthouse.
Alongside the breakwater was a dromond, the sleek sail galley that was the navy’s chief battle weapon. It was being loaded by a chain of labourers and the yards already had sail bent to them.
The entire area was secured. A double line of armoured soldiers cordoned off the approaches to the vessel and a burly ship’s corporal made much of looking up their names on a slate before they were let through. At the gangway an officer also checked a list.
Hundreds of feet long, the dromond was equipped with fifty oars and two lofty masts with diagonal lateens across them. A full deck ran fore and aft, both for sheltering the oarsmen beneath and to serve as a fighting platform for archers.
As they boarded, Nicander spied a series of squat cases lashed down in a row on the centreline under cloths. Their chest would be amongst them.
They were escorted aft to the clear area before the cabin and left with their bags until they could be attended to by the busy crew while the compulsors disappeared below. With a hundred men-at-oars pouring aboard, sailors hauling on ropes and the last stores being struck down it was no time to be in the way.
There was a long, piercing whistle followed by three short ones. Sailors sprang into position, lines were thrown ashore and they were poled clear. Then a sharp order rang out, along with a rumble of wooden thunder as oars were shipped and brought to a ready position.
The captain looked about, sniffing for a wind. Satisfied, he raised his hand.
A bull roar erupted from forward. The oars lifted and fell in a chorus of creaks, bit into the sea then lifted once more – and with a slither and thud dipped again together.
Nicander looked up to see the dry land retreating feet at a time. The ship gathered way and began slipping further off until, imperceptibly, their world changed to a watery one.
Soon all the familiar sights of Constantinople took on a different perspective, the great Hagia Sophia becoming model-like, a vision in white. The low bulk of the vast hippodrome was nothing more than an apologetic hump beyond the sea wall stretching down the coast.
His thoughts were interrupted by another barked order. The oars ceased their rhythm and the ship glided to a stop. They were now well out into the Propontis. Two other galleys took position ahead, on either side.
More orders cracked out and running feet thumped on the deck as sailors raced to their stations. Lines were thrown off, yards hauled around and sail was shown to the wind. As if bowing to Oceanus, the ship leant at an angle and with a final rumble below, oars were brought in and housed.
‘So, our last view of Constantinople,’ murmured Nicander. Marius remained silent.
‘You do realise, if – when – we’ve got it in the bag we can’t return. If something else happens, we’ll be cooked like a goose. Either way, this is the last we’ll be seeing of the old place.’
‘You sound sorry.’
‘Sorry! When every face I see could be in the pay of someone out for our blood – when you can’t trust a common serving maid, public races are corrupt and you’re dragged off the street to a torture chamber on the orders of some thick-brained idiot!’
Marius muttered something that Nicander did not quite catch.
The morning breeze strengthened and the ships stretched out together, their wake astern slowly dissolving into the distance.
A ship’s boy approached. ‘You the holy buggers?’
‘Brother Paul and Brother Matthew,’ Nicander said reprovingly.
‘You lot go there, then.’ The lad pointed to a small cloth hutch, one of five, set up on deck from lines carried back from the mainmast.
They humped their bags and found that their accommodation consisted only of two straw mattresses and a tiny locker with eating utensils.
‘Better’n some I’ve been in. They’ll bring blankets at night, I’ll guess.’ Marius grunted and snugged his bag as a pillow at the head of a mattress.
Outside there was nothing to be seen but a vast, endless grey-blue sea.
Marius stretched out. ‘So. We’re on our way, then.’
‘We must be heading for Alexandria. Ever been there?’
‘Bugger that!’
‘We’ll be putting in at a whole lot of ports beforehand.’
‘You know your way about, then.’
‘Well, I’ve been in the incense import-export business since I was a nipper. I know ships and shipping and there’s going to be at least a dozen stops down the coast before this one ever gets to North Africa.’
‘Well, we’d better get to planning,’ Marius came back.
‘What’ll we do about those two bruisers?’
‘Stands to reason – we get rid of ’em.’
Nicander frowned uneasily. ‘You can’t just-’
Marius rolled over and fixed him with a grim stare. ‘Nico. We make a break for it, whether it’s with the loot or no, those bastards – under Justinian’s direct orders – are going to kick up such a fuss as will have the whole country crawling with troopers. We’d have no chance. So…’