David Wishart - The Lydian Baker

We waded out and pulled ourselves aboard. Tiny sat impassively in the stern as I picked up the oars.

'You want left or right?' I said to Felix.

'Your choice.' I could hear the guy's teeth gritting. 'Frankly, I don't think it matters much.'

'Yeah. Okay. I'll take the left.' I picked up the oar and pushed it through the leather strap. 'Just close your eyes and think of Gaius.'

Mumble, mumble, curse, curse. I grinned despite myself. They say travel broadens the mind. True. I was finding out a lot about Felix this trip.

We lifted the anchor stone and shoved off. Forget your gentlemanly paddle on Lake Como while the reeds whisper in the scented breeze; this was hard work, and as much fun as an abscess. Dangerous, too: Felix hadn't been kidding, and he caught more crabs than I did which meant more often than not we were drifting side on at right angles to where we wanted to go or lurching about like a one-legged duck with a hangover. Neptune — or maybe Poseidon, considering where we were — knew how we made it through the rocks, but it was more by good luck than good judgment. Even Tiny was sweating.

With the Baker aboard the Alcyone moved like a pregnant heifer. What felt like hours passed before I saw the break in the shoreline over to our left. Enough was enough. I stopped rowing.

'Hey, pal,' I said to Tiny. 'That's the harbour mouth over there. You want to call it a day and turn left?'

Beside me Felix lifted his head. If he'd been knackered before he was completely on his uppers now. Well, at least neither of us had been sick. We didn't have the energy.

'I think…sir,' he gasped, 'that the wind…is shifting.'

He was right: it'd swung from head-on to landwards, and it was coming in gusts. 'Hey, great!' I said. 'Maybe we can — ’

Which was when I saw the clouds. Big fat black ones, rolling up the Gulf towards us and trailing a curtain of grey beneath them like a shroud. Something cold touched my spine.

'Oh, shit!' I murmured. 'Oh, holy Jupiter! Tiny…'

He'd seen them too, obviously. He put the steering oar over and the stem of the boat edged sluggishly towards the land, following the wind.

Felix picked up his oar again. 'Sir…we need more…way. Perhaps you could…help, please?'

'Uh, yeah. Yeah, sure.' I might be no seaman, but I saw the problem. We needed to turn far enough round to be able to use the sail; that way we might make the safety of the harbour before the storm hit. The problem was, with the Baker aboard we were too low in the water, and if we turned too suddenly we ran the risk of being swamped. So the turn had to be gradual: a wide circle that would finally bring our nose to the harbour mouth and put the wind square behind us. That would take time we didn't have; which meant, of course, that we had to increase our forward speed.

We almost made it. Almost. Felix and I rowed like madmen while Tiny worked the oar. Jupiter knew how long it took, and how close the storm was, but finally I could see the harbour entrance straight ahead and the wind was at the nape of my neck. Tiny got up to set the sail…

Which was when the wave came. It came from nowhere and slammed into us broadside on like a kick from a mule, canting the Alcyone sideways and flooding her. Tiny made a grab for the mast and went arse over tip as the Baker shifted and slid beneath him, smashing through the wormed planking like a battering-ram. Sky and sea changed places, and suddenly I was trying to breathe air that wasn't there any more. I had one glimpse of the golden woman sinking beneath me, blanket flapping and both hands held out towards me before something slammed into the back of my head and all the lights in the world went out.

I woke up stretched half way across a rock, vomiting and with a splitting headache. Some evil-minded sod was digging the heels of his hands into my back just above the kidneys. I retched, bringing up what felt like another straight pint of Greek seawater…

'That's it, sir. Go ahead, better out than in.' Squeeze. Retch. 'You'll be all right shortly.'

Oh, Jupiter! Oh, Poseidon! 'Felix, you ham-fisted, over-cheerful bastard..!'

'Just think of it as a permanent cure for sea sickness.'

I retched again. This time I only managed a dribble. Then the coughing started.

Never cough ribs-down on a boulder. I turned over and sat back to do it in comfort. Relative comfort.

'What happened?' I said when I'd finished.

Felix sniffed. 'We sank.'

Neptune and all his tritons! 'Yeah. I'd sort of gathered that,' I said.

'Well, you did ask.'

I looked around. We were on a beach somewhere and it was throwing it down like there was no tomorrow. Otherwise there wasn't all that much to go on. 'I was thinking more in terms of the fine detail,' I said.

'Indeed. Before or after you tried to dive for the statue?'

'I didn't…' I started coughing again. Pain stabbed the back of my head. 'Ah, forget it. Where's Tiny?'

Felix hesitated. 'I'm afraid I haven't seen him. Not since he went overboard.'

'Oh.' I stared at him. 'Oh, bugger.'

'Quite, sir. But then again we're lucky to be alive ourselves.'

'Yeah.' That was true enough, especially since I couldn't swim a stroke. I was sorry for Tiny, though. 'By the way, Felix. How did I get ashore?'

'I pulled you, sir. Draped very artistically over an oar.'

'Is that so, now?' Hell’s teeth! That was all I needed: my life saved by Felix. It was mortifying. 'In that case…uh…maybe I should say thanks. I'm very grateful.'

'Don't mention it, sir. A pleasure. Certainly undeserving of such effusiveness.'

'Right. Right.' I had another look round. 'You know where we are?'

'Somewhere near the point of Eetioneia, I'd imagine. Not far from civilisation. If you can call the Piraeus civilised.'

'Uh, yeah.' Well, that was something. We could follow the coast and pick up a carriage or a chair at the Aphrodisian Gate. If they weren't all taken in this rain. I felt empty, and not because I'd tossed up the contents of my stomach, either. 'The Baker's gone for good, isn't it?'

Felix was quiet for a long time. 'Yes,' he said finally. 'I'm afraid so. Even if we knew exactly where she was when she went down, the water's too deep. And a statue that heavy would have buried itself in the mud.'

Some you win, some you lose. Evidently, we were into the second category here. Fuck. 'So. We may as well go home.'

'There's always the treasure in the cave.'

I nodded. It wouldn't be the same, though. Not without the Baker. She'd been some lady. I stood up.

'Okay, pal,' I said. 'Game over. At least we're alive. Let's walk.'

It took us two sodden, mud-sucking hours. Neither of us felt particularly like conversation.

We picked up some spiced wine and dry clothes at a cookshop near the harbour and found a coach to take us back to Athens. I dropped Felix off in Colonus and went straight home. Bathyllus took one horrified look at what the wineshop owner had thought the well-dressed Roman noble should be wearing that year, paid off the carriage and hustled me into the baths.

I sat there for an hour sweating what I'd brought back with me of the Saronic Gulf out of my pores and thinking about things. Gods, what a mess! Another death and the Baker gone for good, too deep even for a gang of Arabian pearl-divers to reach. Nice going, Corvinus!

Ah, well, maybe it was for the best: Gaius would've got the statue for sure, one way or the other. We still had the rest of the treasure, and if I managed to get him the little Artemis figurine then Priscus needn't be too disappointed. Besides, Harpalus had been right about one thing; the golden lady had caused too many deaths to be chancy. First Argaius's, then Smaragdus, Harpalus himself, Melanthus, and now Tiny. Not to mention the nameless crew who'd brought her to the Piraeus in the first place and the gods knew how many more prior to that. I wasn't superstitious, or no more than the next man, but just the thought of seeing that lovely bland face smiling at me across Priscus's dining-room gave me goose-bumps. When you reckoned it all up then maybe she was better off staying where she'd cause no more trouble ever again.