David Wishart - Foreign Bodies

‘Is that so, now?’

‘Marcus, behave yourself,’ Perilla said. She gave Crinas one of her best smiles, and her hair another pat. ‘You were saying, about the fishermen?’

He turned his back on me. ‘The Lateran salt-marsh is a prime breeding ground for mullet,’ he said. ‘At the close of the breeding season the young fish pour in shoals down the channel which connects with the open sea, but unfortunately this only happens at high tide, which means that the local fishermen can’t stretch their nets across it. Accordingly, when the rush begins, they go down to the seashore and call for the dolphins, who gather in a line beyond the shallows between the open water itself and the mouth of the channel and drive the fish back to where the men are waiting with their hand-nets and fish spears. Amazing, really, but as far as I know absolutely true.’

‘Bollocks,’ I said.

‘ Marcus! ’

‘Yeah, well, it is.’

Crinas turned, and shrugged. ‘As I said, Valerius Corvinus, I haven’t seen it happen myself, so I can’t give the story my personal imprimatur. But it’s well attested, and quite consistent with the creatures’ nature. You’re at liberty to believe it or not, as you please. Now if you’ll excuse me I must leave you for the present. I have my meal to prepare.’

‘Oh, don’t be silly!’ Perilla said. Gushed. ‘We’ve plenty of food, and you’re more than welcome to eat with us. Isn’t he, dear?’

‘Ah …’ She was right about the food, certainly: Meton had packed enough pre-cooked stuff and sundries in the picnic hamper to feed a dozen people for a month. All the same, if I had to put up with this smarmy bugger’s company for the foreseeable future I’d rather it wasn’t at mealtimes as well, if it could be avoided. Besides-

‘Thank you for the offer, but no.’ Crinas gave her another winning smile. ‘I limit myself to a very strict diet, principally spelt porridge, raw vegetables and fruit, and I won’t embarrass you by sharing your table.’ He bowed slightly. ‘Until later, then.’

Perilla watched him go to where, presumably, he was bunking down with his sack of monkey food under one of the awnings near the front of the boat.

‘Well, I thought he was charming,’ she said.

‘So I noticed.’

She coloured. ‘And just what is that supposed to mean?’

‘You know perfectly well.’ I took her arm and steered her back towards our cabin. ‘You should be thoroughly ashamed of yourself.’

‘ What? ’ She stopped.

‘As an exhibition of sheer, blatant flirting that took some beating.’

‘Marcus, that is complete nonsense, and you know it! If anyone’s behaviour was reprehensible it was yours. You were confrontational and boorish from the very start, simply because when you challenged him to give a professional assessment of you he had it right to a T. On extremely short acquaintance, what’s more.’

‘Oh, come on, Perilla! I’ve heard this Hippocratean guff before, and-’

‘He was absolutely correct about the wine, too. You drink far too much.’

‘Now just a minute!’

‘In fact, I think that for the duration of this trip you should put yourself in Domitius Crinas’s hands. It isn’t often that you have someone of his obvious abilities in such close proximity, and you must admit he’s a splendid advertisement for his own beliefs.’

Oh, shit; things were taking a seriously worrying turn here, and I needed to nip them in the bud right now. I took her by the arm again. This time we made the cabin, and I closed the door behind us.

‘Look, lady,’ I said. ‘Read my lips. I have no intention of living for the next half-month or however long it takes to get to Lugdunum on spelt porridge and fucking raw carrots just so that you can suck up to Mister Perfectly Proportioned Bloody Smartass. Understand?’

‘Yes, of course I do.’ She smiled. ‘Leaving aside your ridiculous aspersions, naturally. But there’s no need to go to extremes. Cutting down on your wine intake would be quite sufficient.’

Bugger. ‘Perilla …’

‘We’ll see what Crinas recommends. Meanwhile’ – she opened the door again – ‘I’m hungry. I’m going to fetch Bathyllus and get him to see to dinner. All right?’

‘I don’t see why just because you fancy the smoothie bastard I should have to-’

She leaned forward and kissed me.

‘Jealousy, Corvinus,’ she said, ‘is a terrible thing. Especially when there’s no reason for it. Now make yourself comfortable on the couch until I get back. Have a cup of wine. The regime doesn’t start until tomorrow.’

Well, that was fair enough. After she’d gone I poured myself a belter of the Falernian and settled down on the couch with it.

Fuck.

I was up bright and early the next morning. We’d got another glorious day, with hardly a ripple in the water apart from what the Leucothea , under her full spread of sails, was making herself. There wasn’t a smidgeon of land in sight, which surprised and unnerved me a bit; most shipping, certainly the commercial stuff, will hug the coasts as far as possible, or island-hop where the trip necessitates crossing the open sea, even if that means, as it usually does, that they take a much longer route to where they’re going. Imperial yachts, though, are laws unto themselves, which is fair enough when you reckon that there’s usually a good reason for getting their passengers, cargo or documents to where they’re going in double-quick time. And the captains and crews are naturally the best in the business: when the job description contains points like, May be responsible for the safety, well-being and rapid conveyance of the most important and powerful men in the Empire , guys who’d lose themselves on a rowing boat crossing the Tiber don’t get very far in the selection process.

Not that I was the first one awake of the non-crew members, mind. I noticed that Crinas was up on the half-deck, doing what I assumed were his normal morning exercises.

Me, like most Romans, I’ve never understood the Greek passion for physical exercise. Gently tossing a ball around in the palaestra before a bath, sure, I can get that, although I’m not one for it much myself, but sit-ups like our doctor pal was currently doing – plural, and very much so – are completely beyond the pale.

He looked good on it, mind, I’ll give him that. Not an ounce of flab on his gleaming, tightly muscled torso or even the hint of a pot belly. Bastard.

He gave me a friendly wave. Yeah, well, maybe Perilla was right, and I had been a bit crotchety the day before. Plus, after all, we’d be in his company for some time yet. Time for building bridges. I went over.

‘Good morning, Corvinus,’ he said, standing up and mopping the sweat off with a towel. ‘Did you sleep well?’

‘Yeah, not bad,’ I said. ‘You?’

‘Oh, I sleep like a log. Always have done, wherever I am. Besides, it was a wonderful night. Very peaceful, once I got used to the creaking and movement of the ship.’

‘You done much sailing?’

‘Almost none. I spent most of my life in Alexandria, where I did my training, and I only came to Rome four years ago. That was the longest sea voyage I’d ever made, in fact the only one of any consequence until now. You’ve been to Alexandria?’

‘Yeah, a few years back. It’s a lovely place.’

‘It is indeed.’ He looked past my shoulder. ‘Ah, Lady Rufia. You’re an early bird by nature too, it appears.’

I turned; she was coming towards us from the deckhouse, dressed in her wrap. Gods alive! Early bird by nature , my foot. I hadn’t seen the lady up and around at this hour out of choice for a long time. If ever.

Hmm.

‘Good morning, Domitius Crinas,’ she said. ‘How are you this morning?’