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What happened to your friend?" I played it cool.
He walked into an oar." I felt a chill. One of the Fourth Cohort, Parvus, had struck a thief with an oar, during the fracas at the river. We glared at each other. The man in charge was dark, domineering and displeased. His fierce gaze suggested he was ready for a fight.
What are you doing here?"
Making some routine enquiries. The name's Falco."
Cotys."
And?"
Arion." The wounded man had stiffened up; now the pair moved apart, covering my escape route.
Where are you from, Cotys?"
Dyrrhachium." Where in Hades was that?
Not on my personal trade route I guessed wildly. Would that be Illyna?" Then as Cotys nodded, I rushed his wounded crewman. I had reckoned Arion was the easy target because of his wounds. Wrong. Arion laid into me in an offhand way. Disposing of trouble was routine; he wanted it over quickly, and if I died on him he didn't care. I broke free, barging Arion into Cotys to delay them, and legged it for the shoreward gangplank. Someone whistled, summoning reinforcements. I didn't stop to worry about the crew coming up on deck; others had arrived on the quay, blocking my escape. Then a huge blow between my shoulders felled me. I crashed to the deck and felt my back wrench painfully. I was dragged upright. Many hands threw me between them. After some playful Falco-tossing they hurled me half senseless back on the deck. Around me began more action than I liked. This vessel's crew were masters of the rapid getaway. The ship had close to fifty oars, single banked each side; from nowhere rowers had appeared to man them. Smaller and chunkier in build than the elegant warships, it could have been moored there beside the triremes for days, weeks even, but it was leaving now. Energetic activity had the liburnian edging out into the harbour without benefit of a tugboat. All was not lost, or so I thought briefly. As we pulled out beyond the trireme, I suddenly saw above me the white-haired head of Caninus. He looked down over the trireme rail curiously. I struggled upright and yelled for help. Caninus merely raised a languid arm. Maybe he was waving farewell to me, but it seemed a signal to Cotys. Any hopes of rescue by the navy faded abruptly. I had one chance to help myself, while the sailors still busied themselves with leaving. They had not even searched me. As the ship approached the harbour exit and the lighthouse, I whipped out my sword and held it to a seaman's throat. But nobody noticed me. My frantic cries to the officials at the lighthouse were lost. At that time of day, the port officials high above had too many vessels in sight. Sailors threw themselves upon me, ignoring the danger to their colleague. Their reaction was automatic. These men were used to acting fast. They didn't bother to disarm me; I was dragged to the rail and thrown straight over it. Like the warships, this liburnian had outriggers. These structures extending out from the hull are standard on warships with banked oars, but normally u
Where are you sailing to?" I croaked at a passing sailor. His face split into a vicious grin. We're going home, Falco!" Hades. These bastards were carrying me off to Illyria. Nobody on shore could have spotted my plight. Hopes of pursuit and rescue soon faded. The liburnian galley was another craft I knew from a past adventure. Camillus Justinus and I had once commanded such a ship down a river in Germania Libera. A lad with well-placed friends, Justinus. One of his friends was a beautiful priestess in a German forest, the lost love he never talked about to his wife, Claudia. The priestess happened to have possession of a liburnian galley [which made her more useful than any lost loves of mine!] and she had let us borrow it. This liburnian from Dyrrhachium had the classic lightness of her class, and she produced a good turn of speed. She was half decked, and with my limited experience I could tell she was sailing low in the water as if fully laden; who knew what illicit cargo lurked beneath the deck, though I made some guesses. They are nippy vessels, large enough to feel secure, but excellent for reco
Falco."
Slave or citizen?"
Freeborn." There was a chorus of jeers. I was hardly free now.
Oho, are you a man of three names?" Increasingly, I wanted to extract this joker's insides with the bilge pump.
I am Marcus Didius Falco."
Marcus Didius Falco, son of?" Cotys was ragging as enthusiastic ally as if he had done it many times before.
Son of Marcus," I answered patiently.
So, Marcus Didius Falco, son of Marcus The ritual phrases had a threatening ring. This was the rubric someone would carve upon my tombstone one day, if anybody ever found my. corpse. What's your tribe?" I had had enough. I really can't remember." I did know that pirates made a habit of hurling anti-Roman insults at their captives. Pirate insults feigned admiration of our social system, then led spitefully to drownings.
Well, Marcus, son of Marcus, of the tribe you can't remember, tell me. why were you spying on my ship?"
I came aboard following two sailors with a chest I thought I recognised."
My cabin monkeys, bringing my sea-chest aboard." The response was instant. Cotys was lying. His voice dropped; it acquired more menace. The surrounding crew were enjoying themselves hugely.
What did you want with my sea-chest, Marcus?"
I thought it contained the ransom for a man I am trying to trace. I wanted to discuss the situation with the people who say they are holding him."
What man is this?" Cotys scoffed, as if it were news to him. Informers hope to take the lead in questioning, but when your job entails invading places where you are unwelcome, you soon learn to let interrogations proceed the other way round. His name is Diocles."
Is he a spy too?"
He is just a scribe. Do you have him?" I asked quietly. I had absolutely no hope that Diocles was aboard this ship, though he might have been here once.