‘Good. Time to make my excuses to the guests,’ Caesar announced briskly. ‘You should do so too. We need to reach the Rubicon by dawn at the latest.’
‘Of course, sir,’ Brutus replied.
‘Until the next time.’ Caesar bowed to Fabiola, an arrogant half-smile curving his lips at the double meaning only they understood. His secret was safe with her. A former slave, Fabiola would never dare say anything to Brutus. And if she did, he would simply deny it.
Fabiola graciously inclined her head in response, but her thoughts were all of bloody revenge.
Brutus led her outside. ‘You look tired, my love,’ he said, stroking her arm. ‘You can sleep on the journey. I’ll wake you when we get to the ford.’
Barely able to conceal her anger, Fabiola nodded.
‘Rome awaits us,’ called Caesar from behind them. ‘The die has been cast.’
‘And may Fortuna grant that it falls on a six,’ answered Brutus, grinning.
Fabiola wasn’t listening. You would even rape your own daughter, she thought furiously. Filthy bastard. A boiling rage consumed her, renewing all her energy. She would not rest again until Caesar had paid for his crime. And whether he knew it or not, Brutus would be the tool. Fabiola would work on the flash of suspicion that she had seen until it was a roaring flame of resentment and jealousy. And she would take her time.
Mithras, she prayed fervently. And Jupiter, Greatest and Best. Grant me just one more thing in my life.
The death of my father.
Chapter XXIV: The Erythraean Sea
Off the Arabian coast, summer 48 BC
Ahmed and his pirates survived because they lived carefully. The Nubian captain kept the dhow in the waters around the horn of Arabia, which all ships rounded on the way to and from India. By day, they sailed along the coastline, searching for vessels that were small enough to overwhelm easily. Then, before dark every evening, Ahmed would seek out secluded coves and bays to anchor in. Wary since Cana of his crew being recognised as corsairs, he avoided any inlets with villages or towns unless absolutely necessary. In quiet anchorages, no prying eyes could watch them. And there they found brackish water in shallow streams, trickling down from the mountains that formed the backbone of southern Arabia.
The pirates’ solitary lifestyle meant that for much of the time, their diet consisted solely of fish caught with hand lines. This was monotonous in the extreme, and at every opportunity, Romulus would go hunting with his bow, often returning with a small desert antelope. His comrades were delighted by his skills. They won no favours with Ahmed, however. From the first day on board, neither party had trusted the other in the slightest, but it suited both for the relationship to continue: Tarquinius had the
The area had proved to have plenty of passing ships, the majority heading west. Plying the lucrative route to the towns far to the north, most were large and carrying well-armed crew. These the Nubian steered well clear of: there was no benefit in pointlessly wasting his valuable men. From time to time though, they would come across smaller, vulnerable merchantmen. Then they would strike.
The corsairs’ tactics were simple. When a prospective prey was sighted, they would sail as close to it as possible. Pretending they had not noticed, the crew busied themselves about the deck with the old fishing nets kept for this purpose. Ahmed relied on the fact that his double-ended dhow with its triangular sail looked like any other off Arabia and Persia. Of course every captain knew that pirates were nearly as numerous as fishermen, and his approach rarely worked for long. Their victims would set off on a different course, keeping plenty of distance between them and the dhow.
As soon as their ruse began to fail, Ahmed would roar for the specially fitted oars to be manned. With ten men rowing on each side, the dhow could quickly catch slower merchant vessels over a short distance. After a short but bloody battle, the corsairs were inevitably victorious. Unless fresh crewmembers were needed, they took no prisoners. Romulus and Tarquinius took part in the attacks — they had to — but left the executions to other pirates. This restraint went unnoticed, thanks to their comrades’ bloodthirsty natures.
After more than a year, they had taken a dozen ships, and the hold was bulging with the proceeds, even though only the smallest, most valuable goods were kept — mostly indigo, tortoiseshell and spices. What was now below decks was worth a huge fortune. In addition, they captured a number of unfortunate slave women, whom Ahmed ordered left alive to service the men’s physical needs. On such a long voyage, it was important to keep morale high. Romulus found it very hard to ignore the abused women’s constant weeping, but there was little he could do.
Inevitably perhaps, the Nubian began to get edgy. Journeying so far from India was an experiment that had paid off, royally. It had been done thanks to his daring, and Tarquinius’ map. And the gods had been smiling upon his dhow. Like most men, Ahmed believed that the latter was something that would not last forever. He began to talk about sailing home.
It was an alarming development. Egypt was so near, and yet still so far.
The friends’ worries about Ahmed’s desire to return to India grew considerably in the days that followed. Bizarrely, fewer small ships seemed to be travelling through. Three weeks went by without a successful attack. In frustration, the pirate captain led his men on an assault on a large dhow with two large lateen sails like their own. But the merchant ship’s crew were tough, experienced Egyptians who fought like men possessed, and the empty- handed corsairs limped away from the engagement with four dead and several wounded. Tarquinius was lucky not to lose an eye when an enemy arrow grazed his left cheekbone and glanced away into the sea. While he laughed it off, Romulus saw it as a sign of the haruspex’ mortality. And the losses greatly reduced Ahmed’s ability to attack any vessel at all.
The captain’s foul temper was not helped by the discovery a day later of a minor leak in the hold, which had ruined some of the
‘The gods are angry!’ Ahmed said, pacing up and down like a caged beast. ‘We must be grateful that the damn wind will change soon. It’s time to set sail for India.’
The crew looked pleased. After this long away from their base, they were thoroughly homesick. Only Romulus and Tarquinius were dismayed by the captain’s decision, and all their attempts to convince the Nubian to change his mind failed miserably.
They were beginning to contemplate deserting the dhow when Mithras smiled on them once more. Anchoring for supplies at a tiny, fly-ridden settlement, the Nubian heard exciting news. Adulis and Ptolemais, a pair of towns on the opposite shore of the Erythraean Sea, were good places to buy ivory. It was from these locations that the Egyptians set out to hunt elephants and other wild creatures. This fortunate discovery rekindled Ahmed’s greed. There was still a short time before the south-west monsoon began, and it might as well be spent in pursuit of more riches.
Following his orders, the dhow turned and set sail on a westward course. A day later, it negotiated the passage into the narrow waterway which divided Arabia from Africa. In the cool light of dusk, Romulus saw the Ethiopian coast for the first time.
He had never felt so happy.
While he was pleased for Romulus, Tarquinius’ emotions were mixed. The possibility of making landfall in Africa could soon become reality. Old memories welled up, but he did not let himself utter the name that Olenus had given Egypt so many years earlier. So it gnawed away at his mind constantly.
The mother of terror.
The very thought made Tarquinius feel uneasy. After more than two decades, Olenus’ prophecy was being fulfilled.
He said nothing to Romulus.
The waters off the southern coast of Arabia had been calm, and the crew had stopped the normal routine of changing the heavy daytime sail for a lighter one every night. That evening was no different as the dhow moved
