Free The Far Shore by Nick Brown

of the worst things about army life was constantly being weighed down with equipment, as if the helmet and sword belt weren’t uncomfortable enough. Riding helped ease the load but was impractical for the day ahead. Cassius sighed again. Thoughts of temples and libraries and works of art were but a distant memory now.

    They met Simo a hundred yards up the road. Despite the stiff breeze, the Gaul was sweating, carrying his cloak in one hand as he hurried along the sea wall.
    ‘Well?’ asked Cassius, handing over the satchel.
    ‘Apologies, sir, I was unable to find a suitable ship there either. Most of them are staying in port too.’
    ‘Wonderful. What about the harbour master?’
    ‘I did find his office, sir, but there was only a clerk there. Apparently, because things are very quiet at this time of year, the harbour master takes every fourth day off. This is one of them. I found him at a tavern called The Anchor, but he refused to speak to me. Sir, I am sorry.’
    ‘He’ll be the sorry one. Take me to this tavern at once.’
    The trio walked on along the wall and it soon became obvious that the names of the harbours were even more misleading than they first appeared. The Little Harbour was indeed about the same size as the Great Harbour – and also enclosed by long breakwaters running out to the west and north – but it was far busier and more developed. Almost every space on the high concrete wharves was occupied by large vessels of a hundred feet or more. Squeezed in between them were smaller skiffs and tenders, often tied up two or three abreast.
    They left the road and cut across one of the wharves, between a stack of barrels and a massive wooden wheel. Next to it were a pile of long timbers, coiled lengths of thick rope and four huge pulleys.
    ‘What’s that thing?’ asked Indavara.
    ‘A crane,’ said Cassius. ‘The wheel is mounted on a stand and connected to a rope that runs up an arm and down to the load. Slaves stand inside the wheel and walk; the wheel turns and the crane lifts the load. Quite ingenious.’
    ‘Just like mice in a cage,’ said Indavara, more to Simo than to Cassius.
    ‘I can think of worse jobs,’ said Cassius. ‘On days like this I’d be quite happy to do nothing but walk.’
    Indavara snorted. ‘Oh yes, it’s so easy – the life of a slave.’
    ‘I don’t say it’s easy, but in some ways it’s
easier
. Less responsibility, for one.’
    Indavara shook his head. ‘What do you reckon, Simo?’
    Simo glanced warily at Cassius, who shrugged.
    ‘Answer if you wish.’
    ‘Whatever one’s station in life, one will have problems, I suppose,’ Simo said eventually. ‘The Lord Jesus taught us that we should think first of others, those in suffering, the poor—’
    ‘Well done, Indavara,’ said Cassius, ‘you’ve got him started now.’
    The bodyguard moved closer to Simo. ‘You Christians believe that everyone is equal, yes?’
    ‘We believe God values us all equally, and that we will all face the final judgement if we wish to reach the kingdom.’
    Indavara jabbed a finger at Cassius. ‘But how can you be equal if you belong to
him
?’
    ‘One’s station in life is not as important as how one conducts oneself,’ Simo explained.
    ‘What?’
    Cassius held up a hand. ‘Indavara, not now. We have enough to occupy us today. Leave the religion and philosophy for another occasion – you’ll give yourself a headache.’

    They passed several moored ships – including a flat-hulled dredging barge – and reached the far side of the Little Harbour. Most of the buildings were high, red-brick warehouses, but clustered around a crossroads were some low structures more like the houses that faced the Great Harbour. The road that ran along the north side of the port continued into the heart of the city, then up, zigzagging across the terraced slopes before reaching the citadel.
    ‘That’s the harbour master’s office, sir,’ said Simo, pointing to what looked like a