We got ourselves down to Puteoli with a day to spare and I checked the boat out. She looked okay: just short of two hundred tons, well built, with a new set of rigging and a crew that didn't look like they'd jump ship at the first sign of a squall. The captain was a solid looking guy called Theon, with a big gut and legs you could've driven a wagon between without worrying about your paintwork. Also he was an Alexandrian Greek, which was a definite plus. Most Italians can't tell a frap from a luff, but Alexandrians come ready wrapped in sealskin and if you take their sandals off nine times out of ten the buggers' feet are webbed. I didn't quite go that far with Theon, but I reckoned he knew his job. You tend to make sure of these things for yourself before you start, or you regret it later. If you've got a later. Especially if you happen to be someone like me and swim like a brick.
We sailed the next day, across the harbour bar and smack into what felt like the biggest storm in living memory. I was on the poop deck with the captain at the time.
'A good following wind, lord.' Theon picked his nose with a marlinespike and rocked back and forward on his portico legs. 'We're lucky.'
'Lucky?' I clung to a strut or a spar or whatever the hell the technical term is while Neptune and all his bloody nymphs and tritons tossed us in a blanket and Puteoli did a bump and grind behind us. Shit. Maybe the word meant something different in Greek. 'That what you call this, friend?'
He gave an evil belly-laugh: all ship's captains are born sadists. 'Don't worry, lord. You won't feel a thing in a day or two.'
'Yeah.' The boat lurched sideways like something had kicked her in the belly. Theon never moved. I nearly went over the side. 'That's what's worrying me.'
'Of course Cape Scyllaeum will be quite another matter. Things might get a touch rough there.'
'Oh, whoopee.' Bastard! I looked out over the heaving green mess between us and land. There were no dolphins; the smart buggers knew better than to venture out in this weather. Probably they were all holed up in a cove somewhere with a good supply of sardines, laughing their beaks off.
Perilla's head appeared over the edge of the poop deck's ladder. The captain held out a steadying hand which she didn't need.
'Everything shipshape below, ma'am?' he said.
'Yes, thank you, captain.' She gave him one of her best smiles and I could see the nautical bastard's mainbrace splice. How the hell the lady could look this good and this cool when I was within an inch of losing my breakfast beat me, but she did. 'Quite homely, in fact.' We'd been lucky as far as accommodation went, anyway. Us being the only passengers, and purple-stripers to boot, Theon had given us half the deckhouse, which beat the pants off camping out in the scuppers any day of the month.
'If there's anything else you need, ma'am, just ask,' he said. Preen, preen. I grinned. Give Perilla two days and she'd have Agrippa here wound round her little finger.
She'd been looking round her with more interest than I could've mustered. Suddenly she pointed to the top of the mast, where someone had hung what looked like an old leather cloak.
'What's that?' she asked. 'Some sort of flag?'
'That, ma'am?' Theon turned his weather-eye aloft. 'No, no flag. It's a sea-cow's hide. It protects us from lightning.'
Oh, Jupiter! Being hit by lightning was something I hadn't thought of. Drowning I can handle. Getting fried from above comes extra.
'Really? But how interesting!' She wasn't kidding, either. Scientific titbits like that fascinate Perilla. 'How does it work?'
'Lightning doesn't strike sea-cows, ma'am. Nor their skins.'
'Oh, of course. Neither it does. How silly of me.' Perilla glanced at me, then stared. 'Marcus, are you all right? You're looking grey. Green, rather. Both.'
'Ah…' I'd made the mistake of looking up at Theon's patent bolt-deflector myself and I was wishing now that I hadn't. As an idea it had been a real bummer. When you're on a moving boat and not enjoying it the trick is to keep your eyes on a fixed point. Like Italy. The trouble was, even Italy had started jumping around. I swallowed and tried to put everything back where it belonged. 'Yeah, well, actually no. Maybe I should go and lie down for a while.'
'Hardly wise, lord.' That was Agrippa putting his grapnel in. 'If you're feeling queasy then — '
Too late! Oh, Jupiter! Jupiter Best and Greatest!
Heave!
'Marcus!'
Forget the deckhouse, I never even made it to the ladder. My only consolation was that I caught the bow legged bugger fair and square.
Things couldn't get much worse over the next few days, I thought. They did. Theon had been right; Scyllaeum was rough. By the time we rounded it and were into the straits I couldn't've cared less if Jupiter had blasted that bloody sea cow's hide with every lightning bolt in his quiver, so long as he made it quick. Perilla wasn't much help either. The last thing you want when you're dying of seasickness is to have a perky and very sexy lady coming in every five minutes saying how invigorating she finds the sea breezes and what a charming attentive man the captain is. It took me five days to decide that maybe I'd live after all. When I opened my eyes Perilla was sitting in front of her mirror having the maid fix her hair.
'Hey, lady?' I said. No answer. I tried again. This time I got some sound to come out.
She whipped round, scattering pins.
'Marcus!'
'Yeah, that's me. Maybe.'
'How are you feeling?' Cool fingers touched my forehead.
'How the hell would I feel? Like I've been turned inside out.'
She sniffed and took her hand away. 'You did that yourself, dear. All over the floor. Several times.
'Yeah, well…'
'Phryne.' She turned to the maid. 'Go and tell Meton to make some soup.'
'Hold on. Let's not get carried away here.' I tried to sit up. Mistake; the cabin heaved. 'A cup of wine'd be nice, though.'
'Soup, Phryne.' The maid left. 'Unless you'd prefer a pint of sea water, Corvinus. That's what the captain suggested.'
'Sadistic bastard.'
'Not at all. It's a well known cure for seasickness. Besides, he's a lovely man once you get to know him.'
'Lecherous sadistic bastard.'
She gave me a bright smile and a kiss. 'Feeling better, so I see. Don't overdo things, though.'
'If this is better then I'm a porpoise.'
'Nonsense. A mug of sea-urchin soup with the spines boiled in will work wonders.'
My stomach crawled. I tried to sit up again. This time I made it, although the walls still spun. 'That another of your nautical pal's remedies?' I said.
'My old aunt's, actually. She sailed the Mediterranean end to end four times before she was ten.'
'Yeah, that figures.' The walls were slowing down now. 'It had to come from somewhere. Where are we anyway?'
She sat down on the edge of the bed. 'Off the Greek coast, not far from Methone. Theon says conditions have been excellent and we're making good time.'
'Theon can take a flying…'
'Marcus!'
'…jump. And don't shout. Please. It goes right through me.'
She grinned. 'This was your idea in the first place, remember.'
'Yeah. Yeah, okay.' I kissed her and swung my legs out of the bed in the direction of the floor. 'Maybe I'll just go and see how things are for myself.'
'Corvinus, I don't think that is such a terribly good idea at the moment.'
I waved her back. 'You do it your way, I'll do it mine. Forget the soup, okay? All I need's a breath of fresh air. Oh, and maybe a cup of neat Setinian and a bit of bread to soak it up with.'