of freedom. Epides came out on deck dressed in a chiton, a traditional Greek tunic worn at knee length. He glittered with jewellery and his hair shone with oil in the sun. He saw the two passengers standing at the side waiting to disembark and walked over to them.
‘I have grave news, gentlemen. A Greek army has risen in the north and we could not put in at Dyrrhachium as planned. This is Oricum, about a hundred miles to the south.’
Renius tensed. ‘What? You were paid to put us down in the north, so that we could join the lad’s legion, I …’
‘It was not a possibility, as I said,’ the captain replied, smiling. ‘The flag codes were quite clear as we neared Dyrrhachium. That is why we have been following the coast south. I could not risk the Lucidae with a rebel army drunk on broken Roman garrisons. The safety of the ship was at stake.’
Renius grabbed Epides by his chiton, lifting him up to his toes.
‘Damn you, man. There’s a bloody great mountain between here and Macedonia, as you are well aware. That is another month of hard travel for us and great expense, which is your responsibility!’
Epides struggled, his face purpling in rage.
‘Take your hands off me! How dare you accost me on my own ship? I’ll call the harbour guards and have you hanged, you arrogant –’
Renius shifted his grip to a ruby on a heavy gold chain around Epides’ neck. With a savage jerk, he broke the links and tucked it away into his belt pouch. Epides began stuttering with incoherent anger and Renius shoved him away, turning to Marcus as the man fell sprawling onto the deck.
‘Right. Let’s get off. At least we can afford to buy supplies for the trip when I sell the chain.’
When he saw Marcus’ gaze flick behind him, Renius spun and drew his sword in one motion. Epides was lunging with a jewelled dagger, his face contorted.
Renius swayed inside the blow clumsily and ripped his gladius up into the man’s smooth-shaven chest. He withdrew the blade and ran it over the chiton in quick wipes as Epides fell to the deck, writhing.
‘Drunk on broken garrisons, was it?’ he muttered, struggling to sheathe the sword. ‘Damn this scabbard – won’t stay still …’
Marcus stood stunned at the quick death and the nearby members of the crew gaped at the suddenly violent scene. Renius nodded to them as the gladius slid home.
‘Get the ramps down. We have a long journey ahead of us.’
A section in the side was opened and plank gangways were put down to allow the cargo to be unloaded. Marcus shook his head in silent disbelief. He checked his belongings for the last time and patted his sides, feeling again the loss of the dagger he’d given to Firstmate the previous evening. He knew it was the right thing to do somehow, and the smiles of the crew as the man showed it around told him he had made the right choice. There were no smiles now and he wished he’d kept it.
He pulled his pack onto his shoulders and helped Renius with his.
‘Let’s see what Greece has to offer,’ he said.
Renius grinned at his sudden change in mood, walking past the twisted body of Epides without looking down. They left the Lucidae without a backward glance.
The ground moved alarmingly under his feet and Marcus swayed uncertainly for a few moments before the habit of years re-established itself.
‘Wait!’ a voice called behind them. They turned to see Peppis coming down the ramp in a flurry of arms and legs. He pulled up breathlessly and they waited for him to calm enough to speak.
‘Take me with you, sir,’ he said, looking beseechingly at Marcus, who blinked in surprise.
‘I thought you wanted to grow up to be a sailor,’ he said.
‘Not any more. I want to be a fighter, a legionary like you and Renius,’ Peppis said, the words rushing out of him. ‘I want to defend the empire from savage hordes.’
Marcus looked at Renius. ‘Have you been talking to the boy?’
‘I told him a few stories, yes. Many boys dream of being in the legions. It is a good life for a man,’ Renius replied without embarrassment.
Peppis saw Marcus waver and pressed on. ‘You’ll need a servant, someone to carry your sword and look after your horse. Please don’t send me back.’
Marcus shrugged his pack from his shoulders and handed it to the boy, who beamed at him.
‘Right. Carry this. Do you know how to look after a horse?’
Peppis shook his head, still beaming.
‘Then you will learn.’
‘I will. I will be the best servant you ever had,’ the boy replied, his arms wrapped around the pack.
‘At least the captain can’t object,’ Marcus said.
‘No. I didn’t like the man,’ Renius replied gruffly. ‘Ask someone where the nearest stables are. We’ll move on before dark.’
The stables, the travellers’ resting house, the people themselves were a peculiar mixture to Marcus. He could see Rome in a thousand small touches, not least the serious-faced legionaries who marched the streets in pairs, looking out for trouble. Yet at every step he would see something new and alien. A pretty girl walking with her guards would speak to them in a string of soft gibberish that they seemed to understand. A temple near the stables was built of pure white marble as at home, but the statues were odd, close to the ones he knew, but with different faces cut into the stone. Beards were much in evidence, perfumed with sweet oils and curled, but the strangest things he saw were on the walls of a temple devoted to healing the sick.
Half- and full-size limbs, perfectly formed in plaster or stone, hung on the outer walls from hooks. A child’s leg, bent at the knee, shared the space with the model of a woman’s hand and nearby there was a miniature soldier made from reddish marble, beautiful in its detail.
‘What are those?’ Marcus had asked Renius as they passed.
‘Just a custom,’ he said, with a shrug. ‘If the goddess heals you, you have a cast of the limb made and presented to her. It helps to bring in more people for the temple, I should think. They don’t heal anyone without a little gold first, so the models are like a sign for a shop. This isn’t Rome, lad. They are not like us when you get down to it.’
‘You don’t like them?’
‘I respect what they achieved, but they live too much in the glories of the past. They are a proud people, Marcus, but not proud enough to take our foot off their necks. They like to think of us as barbarians and the high-bred ones will pretend you don’t exist, but what good is thousands of years of art if you can’t defend yourself? The first thing men must learn is to be strong. Without strength, anything else you have or make can be taken from you. Remember that, lad.’
At least the stables were like stables anywhere. The smell brought a sudden pang of homesickness to Marcus and he wondered how Tubruk fared on the estate, and how Gaius was handling the dangers of the capital.
Renius
