David Wishart - The Lydian Baker

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.

When we came out of the cave Tiny had loaded the Baker onto the boat and was waiting for us. I didn't like the way things were going here, not above half: the Alcyone was pretty small to begin with, and although Felix didn't take up much room Tiny and me together would just about fill all the available space. Also, there were these wormholes in the planking to think about. Personally I'd still have gone for the land option: left the Baker where she was, sailed round Eetioneia into the main harbour and fixed things up in town. The trouble was, Tiny was still calling the shots and, pea-brain or not, he obviously liked doing things his own way. Which meant going back the way we'd come….

Rowing back the way we'd come, because this time the wind was against us. That was one difficulty I hadn't even considered, obvious though it was. And it was obvious, even to a non-sailor like me. I looked at Felix.

'How are you with an oar?' I said.

'I would imagine about as handy as you are, sir.' The guy sounded as cheerful as I felt.

'That bad, eh?' Hell. Purple-stripers didn't row; it was written into the Law of the Twelve Tables. Well, there was nothing else for it, and we needed Tiny at the steering oar. 'Okay. So let's get it over with.