Dogs hurtled out, three of them: vicious-looking, snarling, eyes popping.
The horses stamped away to the far end of the meadow.
Ballista and Maximus stood still, leaning on their walking sticks.
The dogs circled.
An elderly man clad in rags appeared out of the reeds, an eldritch figure with the low sun behind him. He whistled, and the dogs fell back a little. He put his right palm flat to his forehead.
Ballista cleared his throat to speak.
The old man spoke first. ‘He has taken the only boat. He made my son sail it.’ He used the language of Germania.
Neither Ballista nor Maximus said anything.
‘He said you would come.’ The aged fisherman held his hands out placatingly. ‘It is not our fault. Do not blame us. He was armed; a man of violence. What could we do?’ He fell to his knees.
‘When?’ Ballista said.
‘Yesterday morning, just after first light.’
Ballista felt as if something was broken inside him, something that had been keeping him upright.
‘How far are your neighbours?’ Maximus said.
The old man pointed to the south-east. ‘Near Tanais.’
‘How far?’
‘A long day’s walk.’
‘The other way?’
‘Further.’
Ballista spoke. ‘The horses are ours.’
‘Yes, of course. He said you would want them. We have looked after them.’ The old man showed his teeth like a dog which fears a beating. ‘We had no choice.’
‘Get off your knees. Do you have any food we could have?’
‘Yes, yes, of course.’ The old fisherman scrambled up, started backing towards the cottage. ‘Fish stew, and bread, good bread.’
‘And chain up those dogs.’
‘Yes, right away, Atheling, right away.’
The dogs winding around his legs, the old man went to the cottage.
‘When we have eaten, we can ride to Tanais,’ Maximus said. ‘Keep the water on our right. We should be there before morning. Good chance of hiring a boat there and then.’
‘No,’ Ballista said. ‘The wind has been set in the north. It would have been on his quarter. He would have reached Panticapaeum some time last night. If he did not stop, by now he could be across the Euxine. It is over.’
‘If the gods ever let me find him…’
‘Yes.’ Ballista felt unutterably weary; vaguely sick, but hungry. ‘Would you check the horses?’
When Maximus was gone, Ballista stared at the dying sun, and tried not to think too much about anything.