Germanicus

The floor felt strange beneath my feet but it didn't move around as much as I'd thought it would. With Perilla's help I made it to the door and out.

It was a beautiful morning, and I had my dolphins. They were playing all round the ship; throwing themselves into the air, tossing rock-crystal droplets of water at the sun, plunging back into the waves and shooting through the water like greased arrows. I leaned against the rail for a long time and watched them.

'Aren't they marvellous?' Perilla said from beside me.

'Yeah.' I put my arm round her. 'Yeah, they're okay. For fish.'

We were hugging the coast, just far enough out to avoid the rocks and get the benefit of the land breeze. I could even smell a hint of pine and goat-shit on the air. When Meton appeared with the soup I gave him his new orders.

The wine when it came hit my empty stomach like a warm football, but I kept it down and bit into the bread. Lovely stuff, fresh baked, hot and crusty from the oven. Before I knew it I'd finished the loaf. A pity. I'd meant to throw the last bit to the dolphins.

'You've got your sea legs finally, lord, I see.' Theon was coming down the poop deck ladder.

'Uh, yeah.' I brushed my tunic free of crumbs. My head was still spinning, but that could've been the wine. 'Sorry I brought my breakfast up over you, friend.'

'Nothing to be ashamed of. We can't all be born sailors like your lady here.'

Uh-huh. I'd only been up five minutes and the bastard was needling me already. 'Now, look, pal..!' I began.

'Marcus!' Perilla snapped. I grinned and held my palms up.

'Okay. Okay. No hassle. It's too nice a day, anyway.' I leaned against the rail and he joined me. 'So we're making good time.'

'Good enough. We should be into the Messenian Gulf soon. Maybe even sight Taenarium in two days' time. If the wind holds.'

'That so?' Geography's never been my strong point, let alone maritime geography, but the guy sounded pleased. 'How much longer, you reckon?'

'Depends on the wind and the weather. We've been lucky so far. If they both hold we'll cut as straight as we can for Rhodes. Then an easy run along the Asian coast. Eighteen days, maybe twenty depending on landfalls. We're sailing light.'

'What are you carrying?'

'Crockery mostly. Samian. Some private consignments. But that's just for ballast. Most of our trade's the other way. Spices and perfumes. Jericho balsam. A few jars of Laodicean wine.'

I pricked up my ears. 'Is that right? Laodicean wine, eh?'

He grinned. 'You know it, lord? As good in its way as the best Italian. Very popular in Alexandria.'

'Yeah?' Maybe the guy's heart was in the right place after all. 'You…ah…happen to have any lying around loose at the moment?'

'Marcus…' Perilla began.'

But Theon was still grinning. With a gut like his I should've expected the guy to turn out to be an oenophile. Or maybe he just liked wine. 'One or two jars,' he said. 'Not for trade. Just private consumption. You'd care to try some?'

'You've just twisted my arm, friend.'

'Before dinner tonight, then? The Lady Perilla as well, of course.'

'Sure,' I said. 'Why not?'

Maybe sea travel wasn't so bad as I'd thought it was. I felt better already.

19

In the end Perilla didn't come on the wine tasting binge; a ruse to get me back in time for dinner and sober enough to eat it. I was glad I'd made the effort, though. Once you got Theon alone and off his mysteries of the deeps crap he turned out to be good company. Useful, too, because he knew Antioch like the back of his hand, and without Perilla there to cramp his style I got a fair run-down of the parts of the city tourists don't get told about. The Laodicean, incidentally, wasn't bad stuff, but it wasn't half as good as Theon had promised. I wouldn't've backed it against an ordinary Setinian, let alone my best Falernian. Far too spicy on the palate, which was probably why the Alexandrians went for it. These over-civilised bastards add perfume to their wines anyway. No wonder Cleopatra lost Actium. Half her sailors were probably down with rose petal poisoning.

I left, as I'd promised Perilla, as soon as we'd sunk the first jug and before the sun was properly below the yardarm. Not that I'd've stayed much longer anyway. My head still felt pretty woozy and the wine hadn't helped my balance any. It was a beautiful evening. We'd lost the dolphins but the Greek coast was still slipping past like a long strip of purple ribbon: presumably while the captain and I had been swapping details of Roman and Antiochene night life one of his crew had been making sure we didn't hit Crete or Egypt or whatever the hell was in front of us. I took a moment to lean over the rail and generally think how great it was to be alive…

Another second and I wouldn't've been. What made me turn I don't know, maybe the rush of air as the guy brought back his knife-arm. As it was I just had time to spin round, move to the right and bring my left knee up for his groin as he knocked me against the side of the boat.

I missed. Maybe it was because I'd been on my back for five days, maybe I was just out of practice; but I missed. And when you're facing a guy with a knife you don't get a second chance.

The knife came at me again in a vicious upward stab angled under my bottom rib. I caught his wrist before it struck and pushed down and out, feeling the blade slice through the left side of my tunic and bite into the ship's timbers.

I didn't have a knife myself; walking in Rome I usually carry one strapped to the inside of my forearm, but I wasn't in the Subura now. In any case, my left hand was busy. This was no time for heroics. I yelled blue murder while I went for his balls again. This time my knee connected. He gasped and his grip slackened.

Right, you bastard! I thought, and brought my forehead down hard onto the bridge of his nose. He fell back, blood streaming, then came on again. He still had the knife, only this time he held it wide, waiting to see which way I'd move. I brought my foot up to kick his liver through his kidneys…

And the ship shifted. Whether it was a rogue wave or a change in the wind I didn't know, but suddenly I'd lost my balance completely and I was sprawled face-up half over the side. The guy was handier on his feet than I was. He moved forward, grinning. I rolled away, but I was years too late.

There was a thump, and a horrible crunching sound. The guy stopped, sagged, and slipped to the deck. Behind him stood Theon, holding what looked like a major part of ship's equipment.

I turned and leaned over the rail, gasping for breath.

'You okay, Corvinus?' The captain's hand pulled me back.

'Yeah. Yeah. Thanks.' I was glad we'd got beyond the ‘lord’ crap. But then it doesn't sound so bad in Greek.

'What the hell happened?' He looked more shocked than I was.

'Shit knows. One of your crew went for me. You know who he is?'

He reached down, grabbed the man by the scruff of his tunic and lifted him like he was a doll. The head lolled sickeningly: whatever Theon had hit him with it'd stove in the brain pan like an eggshell and he was definitely an ex-assassin.

'His name's Albianus,' Theon said. 'He's our galley skivvy.'

Suddenly something white rushed across the deck and threw itself at me. I grabbed in reflex and found it was Perilla.

'Marcus, are you all right?' she said.

'Sure. Why shouldn't I be?'

'I heard you yell.'

'You and the rest of the ship, lady. Probably half the Greek coastline from here to Corinth.'

'Don't exaggerate. We're nowhere near Corinth.'

'Yeah, well.' I detached her gently, without letting go altogether. 'Wherever.'

She looked down at the dead man — Theon had dropped him again — and shivered.

'What happened?' she said quietly.

'A brush with the shipboard staff.'