Like the previous night, Cassius didn’t look along the road as he crossed it. He couldn’t have cared less about the dirt and his aching knees — just as long as they made it to the other side.
Once off the paving stones, he navigated his way through the thick, spiny bushes, only stopping when the Maseene were out of sight. As he and the others got to their feet, he had to resist the urge to smile. ‘Gods. It almost seems too easy.’
‘That’s what worries me,’ replied Indavara, striding past him. He soon found the path Eborius had mentioned and ten yards along it, they came across the body of Lentellus. The unfortunate legionary was lying face down in thick grass and had been struck at least half a dozen times; one particularly grisly blow had almost severed his arm.
‘Oh no,’ said Annia.
Indavara went straight for the legionary’s sword and had to prise apart the dead man’s fingers to free it. As they set off again, Cassius looked around but he could see no trace of Adranos.
The ground was drier here than to the west and the strip of greenery between the Via Cyrenaica and the shore was more of a wood than a marsh. Cassius caught tantalising glimpses of the Fortuna through the trees and had to remind himself to keep checking behind them. Indavara soon sped up — with Annia somehow keeping pace — and by the time they reached the sandy beach, the three of them were almost running.
Indavara and Annia immediately began waving at the ship and, once he had checked there was no one else in view, Cassius joined them. He couldn’t tell who the three men on deck were; they were close to the bow and seemed to be doing something with the anchor.
‘We’re here,’ urged Annia. ‘We’re here.’
‘Please,’ implored Cassius.
It seemed almost as though the sailors were purposefully ignoring them and their waving became so frantic that Cassius could barely stop himself shouting. Suddenly aware that their attention was entirely on the ship, he looked back at the wood, fearful that the Maseene might have seen them. But the path was far from straight and the vegetation thick; he couldn’t even make out the temple.
‘Ha,’ cried Annia.
Cassius spun back round. Two of the sailors were waving and the third was running towards the stern. Within a few moments more men came up through the hatch. Cassius saw splashes: oars dropping into the water.
Again, he had to stop himself smiling. They weren’t aboard yet.
‘Come on.’
He set off at a brisk walk along the shore towards the harbour. As the others joined him, he heard a rustling from the undergrowth to their left. Indavara cut in front, Lentellus’s sword at the ready. Cassius spied a red tunic, then a big arm pushing a branch aside.
Eborius was grinning. So was Noster, who appeared from behind him as they stumbled their way through a particularly dense tangle of shrubbery. Eborius had his helmet in his hand and the right sleeve of his mail shirt had been sliced off, leaving a ragged edge over his shoulder. Noster was in a worse condition. He had a makeshift bandage around his knee and required considerable help from the centurion to reach the sand.
‘Thank the gods,’ said Cassius as he gripped forearms with his fellow officer.
Eborius was already looking past him at the Fortuna. ‘Don’t suppose there’s room for two more on that thing?’
‘Absolutely.’
Eborius shook forearms with Indavara too, and took a moment to greet Annia. Cassius clapped Noster on the shoulder and looked down at his knee. ‘You wounded?’
‘Sort of. Ran into a wall. My kneecap seems to be facing the wrong way.’
Eborius put his arm around Noster’s back and helped him as they set off along the shore. ‘Come on, old man.’
Indavara moved to the front of the group and kept his gaze to the left as they neared the harbour.
‘What happened to you?’ Cassius asked Eborius.
‘We got away from the first lot but then ran into more Maseene. Ended up spending most of the night hiding in a cistern, then crossed the road an hour or so ago. Knew you’d head this way if you’d made it through the night. What about you?’
By the time Cassius had finished replying, the Fortuna’s anchor was up and four sets of oars were in the water. Cassius reckoned the large figure close to the bow looked like Simo.
To the east of the harbour, the warehouses were near the shore, with only a narrow belt of sand between them and the water. Beyond the wide doorway of the first building lay a dark, cavernous interior. The rectangle of light at the other end looked a long way away. Cassius was still looking at it when he heard a voice from up ahead.
‘Mornin’ all.’
Carnifex stepped out from behind the corner of the warehouse. Still leading the way, Indavara stopped five yards in front of him.
The old centurion was still clad in full armour and helmet. He tapped the triangular tip of his sword against a heavy, circular shield emblazoned with a black phoenix. His face was a blotchy pink mess — the boiling water had stripped skin from his cheeks, nose and forehead.
Annia turned straight into Cassius’s arms. She would have run if he hadn’t held on to her.
‘Shame,’ said Indavara. ‘I was hoping the Maseene had finished you off.’
‘Take more than a bunch of barefoots to do for old Carn. Told you I’d get me some of your blood, didn’t I, boy?’
Indavara glanced back at Eborius. Carnifex watched for the younger man’s reaction and gave another of his lopsided grins when Eborius came forward and stood beside Indavara. The bodyguard kept his eyes on Carnifex while he spoke to Cassius.
‘Corbulo, get Annia to the ship.’
‘You too, Noster,’ added Eborius, pulling on his helmet.
‘Not likely, sir.’
‘That’s an order.’
For once in his life, Cassius actually wanted to stay and fight. Carnifex deserved death more than any man he’d ever encountered. But he was unarmed, and the truth of it was he’d cause more harm than good.
‘I’ll come back,’ he said, coaxing Annia away from the others.
‘I’ll be waiting, Streak,’ said Carnifex.
‘Come on,’ Cassius told Noster. He put his spare hand around the limping legionary’s shoulder and led him and Annia into the warehouse.
‘I been looking forward to this,’ said Carnifex as he flexed his shoulders. ‘Now who’s going to see the ferryman first?’
Indavara was to his right, Eborius to his left. After the briefest of nods they struck out, jabbing their swords straight at him. Carnifex held Eborius off with his shield and traded blows with Indavara, one blade thudding against hide-covered wood, the other clanging, iron against iron.
Given the old soldier’s condition, Indavara favoured trying to tire him, but Carnifex had other ideas. Forcing Eborius back with a drive of the shield, he lunged towards Indavara. Their blades screeched and sparked as Carnifex’s sword slid past Indavara’s handle, missing his thumb by an inch.
‘Slow, boy,’ gloated Carnifex as he retreated to set himself again. ‘Very slow.’
He turned to Eborius. ‘Can you do any better, Manius?’
After his failed attack at the pit, Indavara was sure Carnifex would underestimate him. So as the centurion pushed Eborius back once more, Indavara readied himself to spring left and attack his flank.
He saw Carnifex’s blade coming at him too late and instantly had to adjust, swerving back to the right. He didn’t see the shield coming at all.
The edge slammed into his chest and knocked him off his feet. His back hit the sand but his head hit something a lot harder and as the crack reverberated through his skull he felt the sword fly from his fingers.
When the shimmering light eventually cleared, he was looking up at the grey-blue sky. Hearing scrapes and grunts, he turned towards the sea. The two clashing figures were distant and hazy. He tried to push himself up but when he fell back he realised why his head hurt so much. His neck was against rock. Wet rock.