The Silk Tree Read online

‘After they find out it’s all a fast one, their only chance of clearing themselves before Justinian is to scruff us and make sure we front up to him to explain ourselves. Nothing else will save ’em. This is all to say that either way, in Taprobane we’re finished.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘No. That’s it – we’re gone. Unless we solve everything in one hit – even to lay our hands on the gold.’

  ‘I know what you’re going to say, Marius, and—’

  ‘We get in first. Knock ’em on the head and our problems fly away.’

  Nicander’s world shrank to a single focus. He was being asked to kill. When a human life flickered to its end under his hands, could he coldly just move on?

  His rational self told him there were times when there was no other recourse – on the battlefield, defending oneself – but could he be like Marius, who he’d seen with his own eyes arrive at the decision to kill a child and then act on it? It had undoubtedly saved them all from the Ostrogoths but he feared he could never bring himself to do it.

  ‘Marius, I’m not sure I could do it. Kill someone, I mean.’

  ‘Barehanded? Yes, it can be tough for anyone not used to it.’

  He edged toward the bulwark and furtively used his chlamys to shield a crude seaman’s knife, its haft bound in worn rope but with a stout blade and wickedly sharp.

  ‘Take it. Go for the throat and make it a good ’un.’

  ‘Marius—’

  ‘Don’t worry about me, I’ve got a hatchet.’

  ‘You … you don’t understand,’ Nicander said piteously. ‘It’s that … you have to believe me, I can’t go up to someone and … and … just kill them!’

  ‘Do it right, they won’t feel a thing.’

  ‘No! I can’t …’

  ‘What do you mean, you can’t do it?’

  ‘The knife, the … the blood … kill them, that is.’

  ‘You might not like it, but there’s times when you have to, Nico!’

  ‘I – I know, Marius. But … but I really can’t,’ he ended miserably.

  Marius breathed heavily. ‘If you don’t do your bit, where are we going to be? I can’t take both of ’em at the same time.’

  Nicander said nothing, his eyes pleading, but he took the knife.

  ‘Look, we do it after the captain and watch turn in about midnight. Gives us time to heave the bodies in the sea after. And if you’re worried about being caught, don’t be. We’re holy men, we’d never do a thing like that,’ he added. ‘Get some kip while you can. I say it has to be tonight, we haven’t time else.’

  Sleep would not come for Nicander. Brutal scenes of murder and death preyed on his imagination.

  At last the captain did his final turn around the decks and disappeared. In the enveloping blackness of night the vessel settled into a creaking peacefulness.

  A single lookout took his position right aft. He was staring away over the stern lost in thought – they had the ship virtually to themselves.

  Marius whispered hoarsely, ‘Now’s the time! Are you ready?’

  Nicander felt for the knife in rising panic.

  ‘Good. Let’s go, Nico.’

  He started silently forward but Nicander was frozen to the deck.

  ‘Come on,’ Marius snarled, gesturing savagely. ‘We’ve not got long!’

  Nicander couldn’t move.

  ‘Right! You’re leaving it all to me, you scumbag! Well, I know what has to be done and I’m going to do it. I’ll take both of ’em on, be buggered to you, Greek!’

  In a chaos of emotion Nicander’s feet released themselves and he followed, his hand shaking so much he nearly dropped the knife.

  The sharp bow came together at the prow and the compulsors had set up their ‘home’ there in the cool. The rest of the crew were under cover further in, taking advantage of the fatter turn of hull to sleep across-ways.

  A sudden snort made Marius drop to his knee but it was only an unknown snorer.

  He inched on to where the foredeck fell away to the open prow, looked back once at Nicander then eased forward the last few inches. He lifted his head up to peer over and down but quickly turned and gestured savagely that they should return to their sleeping place.

  ‘Those fucking bastards! We haven’t a chance – they’ve rumbled us!’

  It took some time for the torrent of swearing and cursing to subside. Either suspecting them or from instinct born of their trade, the compulsors had given up their prime position in the bows and were now sleeping with the rest of the crew.

  In the morning a drifting palm-tree was sighted.

  ‘Ah. Tomorrow, maybe the next – we dock at Taprobane,’ the Arab captain told them.

  ‘Think of something!’ Marius whispered savagely. ‘Full on, we haven’t a prayer against ’em with their weapons and soldier mates.’

  ‘I … I can’t.’

  ‘Then …’

  A coldness settled in the pit of his stomach. The fates had thwarted their every move, destroyed each cunning plan.

  They had run out of ideas.

  As the day progressed, the seas lost their energetic tumbling, and a long, slow swell came, a deep and languorous motion spreading ever on to the distant haze of the horizon.

  The vessel slowed and the captain frowned in vexation. Two hours later vapour began rising from the sea and the distant haze grew more marked. The band of white swelled, reached out and the coolness of a tropic mist wreathed around them.

  It thickened. Nicander watched as the ship’s bow faded and their world contracted to barely a dozen feet about them, the passage of ship through the water now not much more than a muted chuckle.

  It only delayed the inevitable, of course. The fog would burn off, the winds return and in hours they would meet their fate.

  Nicander’s spine stiffened. He couldn’t do it! Not meekly resign to what was coming.

  He began pacing the deck but when he reached the stern he stopped abruptly.

  Surely it was not so simple!

  ‘Sir, where exactly will Taprobane be?’ he asked the captain innocently.

  Surprised, the man hesitated and sniffed for the wind, a tiny zephyr coming in over the bow.

  ‘There!’ he pointed.

  Nicander strolled over to where Marius stood glumly. ‘Ready to leave? We have to move fast!’

  Marius stared at him as if he was mad.

  ‘Come with me – don’t look around.’

  He led the way aft. ‘Marius, we’ve got just one chance to get away now before we land at Taprobane.’

  He nodded almost imperceptibly to past the stern.

  Marius followed the direction then went rigid and hissed, ‘No! I’m not! I can’t do it, you know I can’t!’

  Nicander gave a cynical smile. ‘You might not like it, but there’s times when you have to, Marius.’

  ‘But … but …’ he looked again in dismay at the two ship’s boats which bobbed and snubbed at the end of the painter.

  One had oars in, probably to act as the lifeboat, the other was bare.

  ‘You can pull an oar, you told me.’

  ‘Yes, but …’ spluttered Marius.

  ‘Sea’s flat calm – we’d make Taprobane in a few hours. I know where it is. Then we lay low until the compulsors have quit the place.’

  ‘They’d see us get our gear!’

  ‘That’s why we can’t get it. We act now, this minute.’

  ‘Leave our gear? Including the letter?’

  Nicander looked at him with a twisted smile.

  ‘Of course it’s no bloody use, is it?’ Marius said weakly.

  ‘I want you to watch down the deck. Tell me the instant no one is looking. I’ll pull the boat in and cut the rope ready. You jump in and take the oars, I’ll push it off.’

  ‘Yes, Nico, I’ll do it.’

  ‘Stout fellow,’ Nicander said, recognising the courage behind it.

  He turned to gaze out into the white mist astern as though in contemplat
ion.

  For long minutes he held his pose, then blurted nervously, ‘Hurry up!’

  ‘It’s the captain,’ Marius came back. ‘He’s talking to someone.’

  ‘This fog won’t stay for ever – we’ve got to get away before it lifts or they’ll be after us!’

  There was no answer – then a single word. ‘Now!’

  Nicander bent to the bollard where the lines were secured and pulled for his life. He strained and heaved but the boats were a dead weight.

  ‘Help me!’ he gasped.

  Marius hesitated then, shouldering him out of the way, braced against the bollard and hauled mightily. There was movement, then more until it was hand over hand and they came up fast.

  Nicander swivelled to glance forward. No one was looking their way.

  Marius fended the boats off with his foot.

  ‘Get in!’ Nicander croaked.

  Marius lowered himself in, clambering to the further one, with the oars.

  Nicander snatched a look back – the captain was staring aft in astonishment. ‘Quick! Get going!’ he yelped, tumbling in the boat.

  There was a commanding shout, then the sound of running feet.

  Nicander fumbled for his knife and began a frantic sawing at the rough, hairy rope but it was strong and thick.

  Marius had the oars in their pins ready to pull. ‘Cut the fucking thing now!’

  Finally the rope parted and fell away.

  ‘Go!’ shrieked Nicander.

  With several quick digs on one oar Marius pivoted the boat about and then with deep, powerful strokes he had the little craft surging away.

  As they disappeared into the embrace of the blank, cool whiteness of the fog, angry hails came across the water.

  Nicander remembered the captain’s direction: fine to the left of the bow. In the last seconds before the long shape was swallowed up, he had oriented. ‘Cut around, Marius. Head that way.’

  There were no sounds, only the rippling of water as they sped on into nothingness.

  Nicander sank back. ‘Do you know, I think we’ve made it?’

  Marius continued to pull viciously.

  ‘You can ease off now,’ Nicander said. ‘That is, we don’t know how far you’re going to have to row.’

  ‘No!’ Marius gasped between pants. ‘If they see us when the fog goes, they’ll sail after us. Those fucking compulsors will force ’em to.’

  He lasted a full hour before he lifted the oars. ‘I’m beat. Your turn.’

  The last time Nicander had been at the oars had been on the lake along from Leptis Magna, entertaining a lady before he had left for Rome. She had an infuriating giggle, he remembered. He took the oars and settled to the task, leaning far forward and back to get the longest stroke as his brother had taught him. It was tiring but, pacing himself, he endured.

  ‘When will we know we’ve reached Taprobane?’ Marius grunted, trying to peer into the unbroken white wall.

  ‘Look down into the water. When you see the bottom shallowing, give a shout.’

  Marius stared into the translucent green depths.

  After some time they allowed themselves a break. Lying as best they could across the unforgiving wood of the thwarts they sank into blessed rest.

  Nicander groaned that they must continue, and he took the hateful oars to start the painful business again.

  At least the fog remained. Thick and concealing, it was enabling their escape.

  Their world had now shrunk to just them, their boat and a watery void.

  ‘I think it’s coming on for evening,’ Nicander said nervously, noting the subtle change in the light.

  ‘What if we don’t make it to Taprobane soon?’ Marius grunted.

  ‘Only two choices: keep on or stop for the night.’

  In the dark they could find themselves in trouble, perhaps careering onto a reef. It was decided that when it became too dim to see down into the depths they would drift until morning. Probably the fog would be gone by then anyway.

  Evening drew in. After their exertion at the oars they felt the fog’s clammy embrace keenly, condensation soaking their thin clothes until they shivered with cold. Pangs of hunger increased their misery. It became a trial of endurance.

  During the night Nicander realised that by drifting they had lost their sense of direction. When they resumed the oars in the morning would they be on course, or heroically making for the boiling sea? Other horrors reared up in his imagination – sea monsters, a terrible storm, making landfall on a cannibal shore, a giant whirlpool from which none ever returned.

  Dawn came at last: the fog was still all about them and as the light increased, their world seemed exactly as it was the previous day. The depths were innocent of sea bottom and there was a deathly silence.

  With nothing to give a clue to direction they were helpless. Even if the fog lifted, would it disclose the same never-ending seascape?

  He felt the prick of desperation. Without a scrap of food or anything to drink they would be unlikely to last long in this watery wilderness.

  The sun rose – and the fog began thinning. The warmth was restoring but what would they see?

  The mist began burning off in the tranquil calm.

  ‘A ship!’ he screamed, standing up.

  By the gods, they were saved!

  ‘Wave, wave!’ Nicander urged in a delirium of relief.

  ‘That, Greek, is our own fucking ship,’ Marius said dully.

  Nicander stared. They must have gone in a complete circle during the night. ‘If we don’t … we won’t survive in this pawky boat,’ he mumbled, his eyes fixed on the distant vision.

  Without waiting for comment Marius took to the oars and began pulling to the ship.

  By the time they reached it the side was lined with excited figures.

  ‘Where’ve you been to, you madmen?’ the captain blustered as they were helped aboard.

  ‘Oh, Marius here was touched by the sun, wished by all means to be off the ship,’ Nicander told him. ‘He got in the boat and tried to get away. Just in time I leapt in and have persuaded him to return.’ He looked around apprehensively for the compulsors.

  The captain glared at them. ‘You’ve caused a lot of trouble for us.’

  ‘But we did return, didn’t we?’ Nicander said innocently.

  ‘Yes, but the other boat, it still searches for you.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry for that, sir, believe me.’ If there were souls out there at peril of their lives looking for them he did indeed regret it.

  ‘It is not safe to be in this place, not moving. The fog, it soon goes.’ He paused. ‘They are yours, those in the boat.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘Your servants. They insist to go in the other boat to look for you, would not let our sailors to take it.’

  ‘You mean …’

  ‘I cannot wait! It is dangerous to linger. I must sail on. You understand?’

  Nicander and Marius caught each other’s eyes.

  Head hung, Nicander replied, ‘If by this it is the means of saving the many we must concur. Do your duty, Captain.’

  The sail rose on its yard and catching the slight wind there was a growing ripple at the bow as it gathered speed.

  For long minutes the two looked back with grief-stricken faces.

  Nicander broke the silence. ‘Captain, you say it was only our two attendants in the boat, and they were insistent on this? I must beg of you, do allow us to check the contents of our chest. It is an unworthy thought, but not impossible, that they took advantage of our absence to seize the precious scriptures and baubles therein and make their escape. To settle our minds on the matter, might we …?’

  It was brought to the privacy of the captain’s cuddy and they were left alone.

  ‘I – I can’t believe it!’ breathed Nicander, as they spilt out the contents of several of the leather bags to the table, the gold glittering in heart-catching splendour. ‘We have it! It’s ours!’


  There was row after row of the bags and a papyrus cylinder that yielded a hoard of diamonds. ‘In case this Byzantine gold is not accepted,’ Nicander said with a huge grin, as he lifted the coins in his hands and let them cascade down.

  Marius stood speechless, hypnotised by the wealth on display.

  ‘It worked!’ he breathed finally, fingering the treasure with a childish glee. He looked at Nicander in wonder. ‘It bloody worked!’

  ‘It’s ours to do with it whatever we want,’ Nicander whispered. ‘There’s enough here to capitalise, why, an entire chain of incense importers. We get to Taprobane, get on the first boat back to Arabia … and let life start again!’

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  By the time a tinkling bell had marked the Hour of the Snake in Yeh Ch’eng, rumours were abroad and tension and fear in the air. From behind the filmy screen of the Throne Room, a strict decree was issued. Any who showed by word or deed that they doubted imperial powers to safeguard the land, or made reference to the motions of the warlord Kao Yang, was to be severely punished.

  The palace conducted its business as usual but just before midday the sharp triple-strike of the gong brought a summons to the Throne Room for urgent news.

  ‘Report!’ Chancellor Kuo demanded to a prostrate imperial messenger.

  ‘Honoured sir, I have an advice from General Wu.’

  ‘Well? Speak!’

  The man crouched closer to the floor and looked up fearfully. ‘General Wu – he tells that the usurper Kao Yang has split his forces and it is now clear that this must be a move to surround Yeh Ch’eng.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Sir,’ came the trembling voice clear into the silence. ‘He begs that the Son of Heaven is beseeched to leave the city this day as he cannot be certain of victory when he confronts Kao Yang tomorrow on the plains before Yeh Ch’eng.’

  There was a chill of horror in the room. No one dared move. The Grand Chamberlain turned to the gauze and bowed silently, waiting.

  Finally, the Emperor spoke. ‘The herald has done his duty and we are appreciative of his efforts. We award him one sycee of silver, of value not greater than ten wu chu.’

  Kuo nodded to the Chamberlain for palace revenue.

  First Eunuch Yuan stepped forward and kowtowed. ‘Great Majesty, this man stands in breach of the imperial decree forbidding talk of that traitor.’ He paused significantly. ‘There can be no exceptions. He must be punished.’