Ten for Dying

DAY FOUR
Chapter Twenty-two

John stood in the prow of the Leviathan staring into the fog. He could not make out the shore or even the waves rolling the deck under his sodden boots. Toward the stern crew members moved in and out of the mist, dissolving and materializing like phantoms, accompanied by the murmur of the unseen waves, the groaning of timbers, the creak of wet ropes, and occasionally a muffled, disembodied voice.

It was almost as if the sea had actually succeeded in catching him during the storm and dragging him into a dismal underworld. As he slid down the deck during the storm he was certain he was going to die. Perhaps he was dead and had not realized it yet.

The Lord Chamberlain-the man he had been-had died when the Leviathan sailed from Constantinople.

He tried to put the morbid thought away. An entire day and night had passed since the storm. The wind had gradually diminished, the heavy black shroud of clouds giving way to gray rags. A feeble sunset had glistened across the wet deck before another night of fitful sleep in the oppressive, rocking accommodations below.

Yet he could still feel himself sliding down the tilting deck.

The day had passed slowly, yet he could not recall exactly how he had spent it. He and Cornelia had not talked much. They found themselves adrift between a lost past painful to speak of and a future too uncertain to discuss comfortably.

Scanning the length of the ship he could make out a dull orange sun, the illuminated window of the captain’s cabin. John wondered whether Captain Theon was inside drinking again with the mysterious passenger who lodged there.

To hear the sailors gossiping with each other, the captain had started drinking before they were out of sight of Constantinople. The two submerged rocks along the coast were clearly shown on the charts. A sober man could never have miscalculated the ship’s position so badly.

The Leviathan had grazed one of the rocks, damaging a section of hull and the rudder. Anchors had been thrown out to keep the ship from being driven into the rock broadside until the seas calmed enough to attempt repairs.

These details John had learned by listening. The crew did not gossip with passengers.

The fog swirled slowly beside him and a voice spoke. “Let us hope an angel of the Lord stands beside us, as it did beside Paul when he was shipwrecked.”

John recognized the pilgrim Egina accompanied by the shadow of her silent companion.

“This will be my final voyage,” Egina said. “What a story I will have to tell my sisters! It is fortunate we have a number of anchors at the stern, as Paul’s ship did, otherwise we would have found ourselves dashed upon the rocks.”

“I am certain your prayers were of assistance,” John said, diplomatically, recalling her incessant supplications during the night.

“I can tell you are a man of faith. When you reach my age you will understand that God assists those who can anchor themselves.” She made the Christian sign and drifted away into the fog.

John walked carefully back along the slick deck and down into the hold where Cornelia was trying to nap, having been unable to sleep during the night. She sat up as John entered their tiny compartment. “It seems the fates are against your departing from Constantinople quickly,” she said. “Peter tells me we are barely a day’s ride from the walls.”

“Provided one’s horse is a strong swimmer or Pegasus.” He sat down on the mat beside her, glad to be able to stop bracing himself against the ship’s pitching.

“How bad is the damage? Can the ship stand being shaken around like this?”

“The crew seem more angry than worried. They have drawn cables around the hull, just in case, to hold us together.”

Cornelia put her arms around him. “You frightened me. When I called and you didn’t answer…”

“I couldn’t hear anything above the wind and the waves. I thought the ship was going to capsize. But let’s not talk about that again.”

With her pressed against him, John could make out a remnant of the scent she often wore. He supposed it probably would not be available in Greece.

“I hope they can make repairs soon. You know Justinian’s whims. I don’t like being so close to his reach.” Her grip on John tightened.

“The emperor’s reach extends to the limits of the empire,” John reminded her, then added, “I can’t help wondering how Felix is faring.”

Cornelia shook his arm in irritation. “That’s all behind you now, John. Felix is no fool, he’ll manage. If you want to wonder about someone what about that aristocratic looking man who rarely emerges from the captain’s cabin? I wager he has something to hide.”

“You may be right. He’s got the look of the court about him. Peter overheard him speaking to Captain Theon. He didn’t catch the man’s name.”

“You haven’t set Peter to spying, have you?”

“No. He finally persuaded Theon to let him use the brazier in his cabin, on condition he would make some honey cakes and cook a meal or two for the captain and his companion, this fellow you just mentioned.”

“I hope the ship’s cook isn’t upset. And that there’s honey on board!”

“I suspect the cook’s happy to do as little as he can get away with, given he’s just a member of the crew who was assigned culinary duty. But I wasn’t supposed to tell you. Peter wanted you to be surprised when he cooked our meal.”

Cornelia chuckled. “I will pretend to be surprised. But what about this nameless aristocrat who is going to be enjoying Peter’s honey cakes? Why is he on board?”

“That I can’t say. Perhaps he’s been sent to inspect some seldom visited family estates or he wishes to visit old temples.”

“And recite poems to himself while he strolls through the ruins?” Cornelia scoffed.

“The muse might appreciate it if nobody else did. No, he’s definitely more than he seems. Alert, watchful, carries a blade that’s meant for use, not decoration.”

Cornelia paled. “Is he…could he be an assassin?”

“You mean do I think Justinian sent him to dispose of me? If the emperor wanted me dead, he could have had me executed rather than sending me into exile.”

“He might not simply want you dead, John. It might serve his purpose to see you dead by a particular means in a particular place.”

John pulled her closer to him. “I’m glad we’re going to Greece, Cornelia. You’ve been living at the palace for too long.”