At last, I let go of the boy’s hands and reached creakily down for the knife. Wiping off the sand, I held it aloft towards the sun, then presented it hilt first. Though I took care with the blade, the thing was more deadly for the chopping force of its weight than by its sharpness. Edward took it, still on his knees. I helped him to his feet.
‘Take this, and use it well,’ I commanded.
He took the knife and went back on his knees. I stood silent again, accepting his long, no longer abject obeisance. The ritual was complete. The boy was a man, and – by the power that was mine by descent from the tribal gods of Kent, and by positions in the Empire that no Emperor could abolish – was a man of some quality. His past was blotted out. If in different ways, he was now the equal in my eyes of Wilfred. Perhaps he was more.
‘The boat is full of water,’ he said once dressed. ‘Also, the man you killed has swollen up in his stomach, and the water around him is turning dark. Should we not bury him?’
I shook my head. ‘Leave the body for the animals – there are always plenty of those,’ I said, looking up at the birds beginning to circle in the clear sky. They’d have the choice bits even if nothing on four legs would go down to the water. ‘He deserves no better resting place than the other one who must float for ever beneath the seas that swallowed him,’ I added. You can be sure I believed no such nonsense: dead is dead. However, though I’d have liked to remove all trace of our arrival, the body was too big for one boy and two invalids to move. And even if we could have emptied it and plugged its leak, the boat was useless for what I now had in mind. I could see that Wilfred was aghast at the idea of just leaving the body to float, face upward, in the juice of its own corruption. But he probably hadn’t liked anything that had happened since Edward’s return. Still, I was in charge, and that was my decision.
‘I think we’ll have a proper look round Tipasa,’ I said, now brisk. ‘If there is indeed no one living here, we can dine from whatever wild fruit trees may be in season. Otherwise, I’m sure something small will present itself for killing. As for shelter, we’ll make a fire in one of the smaller churches.’ I scowled Wilfred into silence. Taking up my stick, I tottered slightly as I set out along the beach towards the broken docks.
Chapter 21
Taking into account the twisting of the road as it hugs the shore, Tipasa is about twenty miles from Caesarea. A man of reasonable vigour can cover that in a day. With me bumping along in the wheelbarrow Edward had rescued from a church, it should have taken two days. Halfway through the first day, however, Wilfred had his worst attack yet. I’d already decided he wasn’t up to helping Edward with pushing me. But, though I’d insisted on a slow progress along the road, even that, in the unaccustomed heat of Africa, was too much for him. After our first long noonday stop, he couldn’t get up again. This time, what began as coughing turned to a long choking. As I wiped the foul-smelling froth from his lips, I decided it was time for the Magnificent Alaric to show the world he was still up to taking a walk.
So, for three days, and not two, we journeyed along that baking road, the blue sea sparkling always on our right, drinking much, eating little, with barely another human being to pass or overtake us. Though our most understandable concern was the sea, and what ships there might be upon it, my own private concern was bandits. The days when a citizen might walk the roads of the Empire in reasonable safety – Saint Paul, for example, in Asia – were so long since passed away that it was hardly worth enquiring when. But I knew the African roads were especially dangerous. Professional thieves, escaped slaves, raiders from the south, the occasional band of Saracens – those were the real danger. We had no credible means of defence. We had no chance of running away. As for money to appease anyone who might accost us, those clipped coins would have sent any thief into a frenzy of disappointment.
But, unaccosted, we came at last within sight of the walls of Caesarea. Unlike Tipasa – unlike even Cartenna – this hadn’t shared in the general emptying out of Africa. Instead, by taking in the remnants of other communities, it had maintained the ancient circuit of its walls. Bearing in mind its evident lack of commerce with the hinterland, it was hardly flourishing. It had, nevertheless, survived.
‘State your business, Citizen,’ a guard called out from just inside the gateway.
I’d seen the wooden bar come down on our approach, and had my story already made up and rehearsed. I shuffled forward and peered into the dark gateway.
‘It is surely the mercy of God,’ I opened in an elderly whine, ‘that I should ever again hear the voice of authority.’
Deep within the gateway, there was a sound of leather scraping on wood. Then the guard emerged. Fifty, fat, shifty, he blinked in the sunlight. The metal strips had come off his breastplate. His sword was broken away near the point. But he was taking no chances. He gave me and the boys a hard, suspicious look, then turned his attention to the road behind us.
‘I am Seraphinus,’ I said proudly, ‘a man of some repute in Carthage. I am travelling to Cartenna with my grandsons. Since the last visitation of plague, I am all they have left in this world. You will see that the younger boy is sick. We are advised that his only hope is to roll in the holy dust before the tomb of Saint Flatularis.’ I did a fair job of laying the mannerisms of the higher classes over an African accent. As I was hoping, it placed me nicely as what I was pretending to be.
The guard came over to us and leaned hard on the wooden bar. It groaned beneath the weight, and the folds of his belly not contained within the breastplate wobbled with every breath.
‘That’s a sick lad you have there,’ he agreed with a look at Wilfred, who, covered with his faded robe against the sun, slept fitfully in the wheelbarrow. Sleep had suppressed the coughing attacks. Now, it was a matter of how long he could keep up the shallow gasps of his breathing. ‘I suppose it was the doctors got him this way. They always do in my experience. You’d better get him to the saint before it’s too late. Hard journey along the road?’ he added with a nod at my clothing.
I thought of the brown stain and smiled. ‘We fell among thieves,’ I said. ‘They stripped us of our possessions. But my healthy grandson fought like a desert lion, and put the thieves to flight.’ Edward nodded vigorously in agreement and held up the knife. ‘I now beg at the gates of this most opulent and well-protected of cities for entry. We cannot face another night on the road. All else aside, I must have a bed for the sick child.’ The guard continued looking for a while at nothing in particular. I raised my arms in supplication. I began to wonder if it was worth the risk of falling to my knees. Perhaps I could spare a few coins. But the guard eventually heaved himself upright and fiddled with the bronze hoop securing the bar.
‘Mind you,’ he said as the bar went up, ‘you’ll get nothing within unless you’ve managed to keep a little money in your own hands. More important, that knife stays with me. City ordinances don’t allow no weapons. This is a peaceful place. No weapons for nobody – just the authorities.’ It took a surreptitious but hard jab with my stick before Edward handed the knife over.
There was a time – perhaps not that long before – when Caesarea had been one of the most elegant cities on the African shore. Coming through that heavy gateway, you’d have found yourself in a long, wide street that passed right along to the central square, around which the churches and the main public buildings were arranged to avoid the full power of the sun. Each side of the street would have been lined with a colonnade. Behind this, about four feet above street level, the pavements would have allowed pedestrians to move back and forth, safe from the dust or any filth cast up by the wheeled traffic. Running parallel with each colonnade, long granite basins would have splashed and sparkled from a dozen fountains that cooled the hottest day.