Shadows in Bronze

XXXVII

Larius pulled me out. Wallowing with a Nereid would have been more fun.

My nephew must have seen me set off and been on his way after me before I sank. Remember his father was a boatman; Larius had been dandled in the Tiber even before he was weaned. He could swim when he was two. He never used the smister, silent, Batavian crawl which the Army teaches. My nephew had a horrible style, though a thrashing turn of speed.

When I came round, with the feeling of having been violently engulfed then flailed against a concrete wall, I could tell how Larius had achieved my rescue by the agonies I had acquired as a result. I had a bruised throat where he had heroically gripped me, and a gashed ear where he had crashed my head against a mooring stage. The backs of my legs were raw from being dragged over the pumice up the beach, and I was being pumped back to life by Petronius Longus, applying his full bodyweight. Afterwards, I felt perfectly happy to lie still for a long time, considering my sore windpipe and puminelled flesh.

'Think he'll live?' I heard Larius ask; he sounded more curious than concerned.

'Reckon so.'

I let out a grunt to inform Petronius that he could now feel free to amuse himself with jokes at my expense. His unmistakable fist thumped my shoulder.

'He's been in the Army. Why can't he swim?' That was Larius.

'Oh… the week we did watersports in basic training, Marcus was confined to barracks on fatigues.'

'What had he done?'

'Nothing serious. We had a high-handed junior tribune who got the idea Marcus had been playing around with his girl.'

There was a pause. 'Had he?' Larius eventually enquired.

'Oh no' In those days he was much too shy!' Untrue. But Petronius does not believe in corrupting the young.

I rolled over away from them. I peered seawards for the Isis through swollen eyes, but she had gone.

The low evening sun savaged my legs and shoulders, as it came glancing through my lightly bloodstained marinade of brine. I lay face down on the beach thinking about death by drowning and other cheerful things.

Far away at the water's edge I could hear Petro's three young daughters shrieking with delight as they chased each other fearlessly in and out of the dreadful sea.

'Anyway!' Petronius chaffed Larius. 'How come you're always extricating this fool when disaster strikes?'

Larius blew his nose. He took his time answering but when he did I could tell he was enjoying it.

'I promised his mother I'd look after him,' he said.