The Lydian Baker

38

Tiny set the sail and we were off. No, I didn't throw up. Maybe it was the excitement, but I felt great. Not so Felix: forget human company, the little guy began to change colour as soon as the first wave hit us. Then we were out in the gulf proper where we hit a smacker of a wind that had him half over the side losing his breakfast in earnest. I watched benignly. That would teach the sod to tail me.

We were headed for the same stretch of coast Smaragdus had taken me to last time, but Tiny was bearing further right, closer to Eetioneia. Yeah. That fitted. The signs I'd seen on the path showed that the statue had been carried down to the beach, so Smaragdus and Tiny must have ferried it round to another cove. Sensible: sure, there would've been places nearer by where they could've taken it instead, but in the process they'd have left tracks a blind man could follow. This way it could be anywhere.

While Felix was doing his best to turn himself inside out I looked ahead; and what I saw made me wish I hadn't. We were making for the dead centre of a line of cliffs; no beaches, no inlets, and from the looks of the cliffs themselves only a mountain goat tired of life on the hoof would risk climbing them. Added to which the chain of rocks stretching a good hundred yards out from the shore would gut us before you could say Ulysses. I swallowed and glanced up at Tiny. He was holding the steering oar firm as Plato's famous helmsman.

'You sure you know what you're doing here, pal?' I said. Philosophical metaphors are okay in their place, but I'd bet one look at Tiny would've had Plato reaching for his pumice stone.

No answer: the guy might as well have been deaf. We got closer. Tiny turned a fraction out of the wind and the boat lost speed. We were coming in at a slant now, but the rocks were so close I could've reached out and picked off the clams. Hell; Baker or not, I must have been mad to agree to this. I should've made a dash for freedom back on the beach while I had the chance.

And then I saw it: a hollow at the base of the cliffs with a scrap of pebbly beach that looked just about big enough to spread a mantle over. If the mantle happened to belong to a midget. I looked back at Tiny.

'That's it?' I said. 'That's where we're going?'

He grinned and gibbered, nodding his head. When the first rock scraped the side I closed my eyes and offered up a prayer to Neptune and the anonymous god who protects pointy-skulled gorillas and non-swimming Roman smartasses…

Two minutes later, incredibly, I was still breathing air. I opened my eyes. We were past the rocks and into deep water, and Tiny was grinning like he'd performed a minor miracle. Maybe he had.

'Nice work,' I said. I meant it, and it was the understatement of the year: mad gorilla or not, the guy could handle a boat. Maybe Plato wasn't so far out after all.

We nosed into the cove. Tiny lowered the sail, beached us gently on the pebbles, and threw out the anchor-stone. Then he jumped out and waded ashore.

Felix was still slumped against the side with his eyes closed, like he'd been the whole trip. Shame. All that excitement and he'd missed it. Well, some people have all the luck.

'Hey.' I dug him in the ribs. 'Show a leg, pal. We're there.'

The eyelids didn't flicker.

'I think, sir,' he said, 'I'll just die here quietly, if you don't mind.'

'Death isn't an option.' I grinned: the bastard was human after all. 'By the way, you know your face is the exact colour of a slice of Rhaetian cheese?'

He belched. 'Corvinus, please. No references to food. Cheese especially.'

'It's the truth.' I pulled him upright and his eyes opened. Now he looked like a slice of Rhaetian cheese with two poached eggs on top. I almost felt sorry for him. Almost. 'Don't worry, you'll be okay soon.'

'You mean I can die after all?'

I glanced over at Tiny, gibbering on the beach. He looked like he was getting anxious. Uh-oh. That we didn't want. I heaved Felix to his feet and propped him on the edge of the boat.

'Right,' I said. 'Break's over, sunshine. Back to work. Just knuckle down and think of Gaius.'

'Fuck Gaius,' Felix muttered; at least that's what I thought he said but I must've misheard. The guy wasn't that human.

Well, no point in pussy-footing around here. And he had insisted on coming…

'Hold your nose,' I said; and pushed.

He went in like a sack of carrots. I'd checked, of course: there was a good three feet of water to break his fall. And a pint or so of sea water taken internally is a good cure for seasickness. So I'm told, anyway.

Besides, the bastard still owed me.

I had to hand it to Smaragdus; he'd hidden the Baker somewhere no one would think of looking in a million years. Even from this close up the place was a dead end: no obvious caves, no holes in the rock, nothing but cliff and a lot of scattered boulders. And only accessible from the sea. If you could call what we'd come through an access.

We waded ashore. At least, I waded while Felix dripped.

'You're sure this is the right place?' he said. The guy's impromptu bath seemed to have done him good once he'd coughed up half the Gulf, even if he had come up in a foul temper. 'Because if it isn't then you owe me for a new tunic. That was not necessary.'

Tart as hell. I grinned. 'Put it on expenses, chum. Gaius can afford it more than I can. And this is the place all right. You have my personal guarantee.'

Tiny was standing beside the biggest pile of rocks, waiting for us to catch up. When we did he stepped aside to let us past, and I saw it.

Tucked away behind the boulders, and invisible until you were right on top of it, was a cave, the entrance wide as I could stretch both arms but no more than waist high.

Felix drew in a breath and let it out slowly. 'My apologies, sir,' he said. 'You can forget about the tunic.'

I nodded: I was feeling pretty overawed, too.

Tiny reached inside the cave and pulled out a lamp and strike-light. Once the wick was going he ducked down under the lintel and disappeared. I followed with Felix at my heels.

Even with the lamp and what little light there was coming through the entrance it was pretty dark. I stood up cautiously, but I needn't have worried: the ceiling was at least three feet above my head.

Then my eyes adjusted, and I saw the gold.

There wasn't much of it, but what there was was impressive as hell: gold dishes, gold figurines, even a gold tripod. I reached over and picked up one of the figurines, a Hunting Artemis complete with bow and quiver. It reminded me of a statuette I'd seen once in Argyrio's shop in the Saepta. That had been bronze, and the price still overran the tag. If this was just the scrag end of the Tolosan treasure then no wonder the two families had spent the best part of a hundred years looking for it.

'Sir?' Felix had moved past me into a darker part of the cave. I looked up. He was pointing to a bundle wrapped in an old blanket. A bundle the size and shape of a standing woman…

I unwrapped her carefully. She stood on a small pedestal, one foot pushing out from under the fringed hem of her mantle. Both her hands were extended, palm out. The right held an ear of corn so real I could count the grains, the left a flat loaf. Her hair was braided and her eyes looked into mine across six hundred years. A golden, smiling woman who stood in the lamplight and shone from the crown of her beautiful head to the toenails of her sandalled feet.

'Jupiter,' I murmured. 'Dear holy Jupiter.'

Felix was checking the inscription on the pedestal. That guy has no poetry in his soul.

'"Croesus King of Lydia to Apollo of the Delphians",' he read. '"Far- shooter, the Slayer of Pytho". Sir, my heartfelt congratulations.'

'I can understand Hermippe now,' I said. The almond-shaped eyes and enigmatic smile still held me. 'This lady is something else.'

Felix looked at me sideways. 'Worth killing for, Valerius Corvinus?' he said softly.

'No, not that. But she comes close.'

'Oh, dear. Then we had better wrap her up again, sir.' Felix reached for the blanket. 'Before either of us gets any ideas.'

I grinned and tore my eyes away. Gods, that smile…'Fair point, pal. And we'd better think about how to get her home, too. Maybe if we came round by land we could rig up a crane. Hoist her up the cliff and use a stretcher. It won't be easy, though.'

We'd forgotten about Tiny. He'd been standing to one side watching us and holding the lamp. Now he set it down, put his huge hands under the Baker's armpits and lifted. The pedestal grated against the rock floor and swung free. Jupiter, this I didn't believe! No one was that strong! Maybe old Croesus had pulled a fast one on Apollo and the statue was hollow after all.

On the other hand, remembering the cement bags and what the guy had done to Glycus I wouldn't like to place any large bets. And he must've done it before.

Felix and I looked at each other in silence.

'I think,' Felix said quietly, 'that your friend has plans of his own.'

'Yeah.' I swallowed, and watched.

The veins on Tiny's neck were standing out like ropes, but his expression didn't change. Slowly, very slowly, he carried the Baker over to the entrance and laid her down on her back with the blanket beneath her. Then he went outside and pulled her through.

Scratch the crane: it would appear that we were taking the Baker back with us. Ah, well, I wasn't going to argue with someone capable of lugging four-and-a-half-foot solid gold statues around.

'What about the rest of the stuff?' I said.

Felix was picking up the lamp. 'We leave it here for the moment, sir,' he said. 'If you agree, of course. The Baker's what is important, and now we know where the cave is there's no hurry.'

'Right.' I paused. 'How's your stomach holding out, by the way?'

That got me Felix's best glare. 'Perfectly well,' he said primly. 'Besides, I have my master's statue to consider now.'

'Is that right?' I grinned. 'Remember you said it, then, pal. It's a long rough way back.'

Felix didn't answer.