Legionary

Chapter 42

The hull of the huge vessel roared through the torrents of the Danube in the darkness. Wulfric remained in his favoured position at the prow, one leg up on the rim of the ship.

‘We turn tomorrow at the delta and head back upriver,’ he spoke to the beneficiarius.

‘Perhaps we should wait here, Tribunus.’

Wulfric blinked and turned. The beneficiarius had not spoken. Instead, the slender, short, shaven headed Egyptian with the smooth dark skin by his other side had spoken out again. Menes. Wulfric turned back to the river.

‘Wait? We have been waiting for days, Menes. I trust your master actually has a plan?’ He asked, directing his question into the darkness of the river.

‘You do not need to know all that my master has planned. That is why he sent me, his most trusted emissary, to accompany you.’ He spoke with an African twang, eyeing the tribunus furtively through narrowed and kohl-stained eyes.

‘An emissary for the bishop eh?’ Wulfric mused. ‘Well I doubt very much that’s what you are, Menes. Just as long as you remember that I’m your master from now on. Any questionable advice you give me, any strange goings-on, even if you’re not involved directly, it will be your throat that is cut,’ he stated in a matter-of-fact voice. This was power, he thought.

Menes remained perfectly calm. ‘By serving you, I also serve my master.’

‘Don’t test me, Menes,’ Wulfric growled. Then a cry from the crow’s nest cut him short.

‘Ship to port!’

Wulfric craned over the stern. The darkness betrayed the dim outline of a white sail. A Chi-Rho symbol emblazoned on the linen.

‘You see, tribunus?’ Menes spoke softly. ‘My master has all matters in hand.’