A thought then crossed Lucius’s mind, and he cursed himself for not thinking of it sooner. There was no way he could get Antony’s attention without causing a commotion, and there was no way that he could identify the traitor, if such a traitor existed – but he knew of someone who could.
XXXV
"Deck ho!" The lookout atop the mast head called. "Flags on the shore. Three leagues ahead!"
Antony looked, as did everyone else, to see a scarlet pavilion that stood halfway up the white sandy strip ahead. As the Vulcan drew closer, pulling up the bay with the long line of transports astern, he could see that the pavilion was flanked by fluttering banners, also of scarlet, beneath which he could just make out a guard of Roman horsemen, heavily armored and holding lances upright.
"There it is!" Antony could not help but exclaim. "Just as the woman said!”
He was practically salivating, beaming from ear to ear.
“Someone waiting to receive us, my lord?” one of the legates asked curiously. “Who is it?”
"Signal the fleet to land there," Antony ordered, ignoring the man.
The confused expressions all around Antony did not worry him. They were all Roman knights, sworn to serve him. Theirs was not the concerns of politics and who ruled Rome. They only followed orders, or at least that is what he hoped. They had served under him through campaigns across Gaul, and now he felt certain they would follow him, even if he suddenly announced that he was taking command of the entire Optimates army, and combining their legions with Pompey’s to deal a death blow to Caesar. They would change with him. They would have to. For he had the money, and when the hob-nailed boot met the paving stone, money was all that really mattered to this band of mercenaries who loosely called themselves Roman patriots. Stop paying them, let their families starve in their homes, and see how long these so-called patriots would remain in camp.
It was laughable at times, how easily soldiers were manipulated.
As the three dozen craft turned sharply to put the land across their bows, Antony descended to the main deck and called for a mirror to check that his newly polished bronze cuirass still carried its shine, for he wished to look the part when he met his new lord for the first time. An inner peace came over him, such as he had not felt in years. The Raven was a bold man of power – a man like him. He undoubtedly had no problems wielding that power wherever and whenever he saw fit. This contrasted sharply to Caesar whose reluctance to be heavy-handed with his own authority had always annoyed Antony. Antony had never quite understood Caesar’s insistence on making everything legal. Why should one undergo such posturing if one had total control?
As Antony looked in the mirror, tucking and draping his cloak in a dozen different ways, he did not see the razor sharp pugio dagger that approached him steadily, and with purpose.
“General!” a cry came from far up forward. “General, look out! The eunuch!”
Antony swung around to see the stringing blonde hair and maddened face of Orestes, as the eunuch charged forward at him thrusting the glimmering dagger. Antony side-stepped the swipe, escaping a killing thrust aimed at his groin. Orestes was not a warrior, and the desperate lunge had sent him off balance, toppling him to the deck. Within moments, Antony’s bodyguards were there, thrusting their gladii into the paunch man’s belly and neck. Orestes screamed a high-pitched, frustrated shriek as jab after jab pierced his fleshy form, painting his pale skin crimson, like a pig being slaughtered. Antony was still dumbstruck and watched with horror as Orestes stared back at him with venomous eyes that bore a deep-seated hatred of which he had not been aware. The startling revelation that his closest advisor and confidant had tried to kill him, left him unnerved and wondering who had put the traitor up to it. The eunuch expired in an expanding pool of blood, and during that brief time, Antony was able to compose himself and put on a confident air.
“Throw this refuse to the fish!” he commanded. “Who was it that called out and alerted me to this treason?”
“We know not, sir,” one of the bodyguards replied as the others heaved the eunuch’s lifeless bulk over the side. “Do you wish us to find the man?”
The deck was crowded with hundreds of legionaries in full kit, preparing to disembark. Most had been too absorbed in the preparations to even witness the attack. Did he really wish to search for the man? Such inquiries would only spread rumors of the assassination attempt throughout the army.
“No,” Antony said. “It is not important. Let the man come forward of his own volition if he wishes any reward.”
Antony looked at the shore where the pavilion sat with the billowing banner.
No, nothing was going to ruin this day. Fortune smiled on him this day. Today he would take the first step on the path to making the world his own. He would use this Raven’s connections and wealth, and become the Alexander of Rome.
XXXVI
Lucius watched Antony from amongst the mass of troops on the main deck. A smirk appeared beneath his centurion’s helmet as he saw the posturing general check his appearance in the mirror again, and then call for a barber, evidently deciding that his beard needed a quick trim. The general appeared to have put the attempt on his life behind him and was now anticipating his meeting with the Raven.
While the approaching beach and the strange pavilion consumed everyone else’s attention, Lucius turned to look out beyond the opposite side of the ship. He could see the bay stretching away for several miles, and the far-off shoreline of the promontory on the other side of the watery expanse. As he watched, a figure emerged from the distant surf – a slim, muscled figure with slight curves and long dark hair, which shook wildly once it was clear of the foamy sea. Lucius smiled. Such a swim might have killed most, but it had been no problem for her.
It had taken him very little time to reach the hold, where Marjanita had sat, shackled with several other prisoners that Antony had decided to bring with him to Greece for one reason or another. Lucius had used his rank, and the promise of a few denarii, to convince the guards to release the woman into his custody. Marjanita had then watched him with distrustful eyes as he laid the deal out for her. Tell him who had been with Antony that night, and he would look the other way when she jumped over the side. After exhibiting some trepidation, she had agreed, and had pointed out the flowing blonde hair of Orestes across the crowded deck, just as the eunuch had drawn the dagger to attack Antony. Lucius had shouted the warning that had saved Antony’s life, and then had melted back into the activity on deck.
True to his word, Lucius had let Marjanita go.
She had said nothing to him before diving into the sea, her perfect form leaving hardly a splash on the surface. But, before she had jumped, they had shared a silent interval, in which she had turned back to look at him, her captivating, brown eyes studying him in a long, reflective gaze. It had only lasted for the space of a few heartbeats, but in that moment he felt as though she were etching his face into her memory. Whether it was out of some trace of warmth, or to remember him that she might cut his throat should she ever cross his path again, he did not know – but he chose to think on the former.
Now, as he watched Marjanita’s slim figure in the distance dart nimbly from the surf to the concealment of the brush, he was sorry to see her go. She had played her part well and had done everything Lucius had asked of her. That morning in front of Antony, she had performed flawlessly, telling him everything Lucius had told her to say. She had convinced the ambitious general that her message was authentic – and it was, to a certain extent.
Turning his attention back to the other side of the ship, Lucius gazed upon the scarlet pavilion and drew in a deep breath of satisfaction, content with the knowledge that he had fulfilled the dying request of a man he had been forced to kill – and that Antony’s world was about to turn upside down.