The burly optio broke into a run toward the dim bulk of the merchant ship, skirting the flickering pools of light as he went. Suetonius watched him go, frowning. Better to be on his own, but if the quaestor didn’t come, he would have to follow. He couldn’t let them leave him behind to beg for a passage.

*                                                      *                                                      *

Tense and nervous as he gripped the railing, Julius peered out at the docks from the side of Ventulus. Where were Prax and Tonius? His eyes swept the open space between the ships and the warehouses, looking for his men, willing them to come quickly. The crescent moon had risen steadily and he was sure dawn could not be more than a few hours away.

He heard a slithering thump behind him and risked a glance to see another of the swimmers reach the shadows of the deck, lying on his back and blowing with exhaustion. Without lights to guide them, they had swum out into the deep waters along the spit of rock that formed the natural harbor, denied even a handhold on it by spined urchins and razor surfaces that skinned them at the slightest contact. Many had arrived with blood on their legs, the terror of sharks showing in their eyes. It had been hard on them, but Julius worried more for the others who couldn’t swim, the giant Ciro among them. They had to make the run into port in darkness without alerting the quaestor’s guards, and they were late.

There was only a glimmer of light from the cloud-covered moon, but there were torches at points all along the docks, flickers of dark yellow that moved and jumped in the breeze blowing away from the coast. The wind had changed an hour before and all Julius wanted to do was have the anchors pulled up, cut the holding ropes, and be gone. The captain was tied and bound in his cabin, his crew accepting the presence of a few extra soldiers without comment or alarm. It had gone almost better than Julius had hoped, but as he watched the torches snap and flutter, he felt a sudden fear that the quaestor had captured his men and it was all for nothing.

He wished he hadn’t sent Prax and Suetonius to the inn. A fight could have started, or they could have raised suspicion with a clumsily told tale of riches on board. It had been too much of a risk, he admitted to himself, his knuckles white against the rail of Ventulus.

There! He recognized the figure of his old optio rushing toward the ship. Julius froze as he searched for Suetonius, but there was no sign. What had gone wrong?

Prax clambered on board, panting.

“Where is he?” Julius snapped at him.

“Behind me. I think his nerve went. We’re better off leaving him,” Prax replied, looking back to the dark port town.