Golden Age (The Shifting Tides, #1)(34)
‘How long will we have to stay?’ Chloe asked.
As they walked they passed fishing boats, colorfully painted vessels with horizontal stripes of yellow, crimson, and brilliant blue. The sun had set, falling into the horizon as they’d walked, and now the sky took on a purple hue. The breeze began to strengthen, flattening clothes to bodies, but it was a warm wind; the summer promised to be hot.
Ahead, Aristocles could see the unmistakable bulk of the unpainted Ilean warship, the Nexotardis, its outline horizontal at the sides but ingeniously curved upward at both ends. The bireme occupied its own piece of shore at the bay’s far end and had been given a wide berth by the Phalesians ever since its arrival. The ship’s repairs were finished now, and it looked fit and ready to depart.
‘I don’t know,’ Aristocles said.
Sixty Phalesian hoplites stood on the beach, a careful distance from the warship, at their ease but standing close by as an additional precaution. Kargan had said he would depart with the dawn. The soldiers would stay until he left.
‘Amos and his men are already here.’ Nilus nodded in their direction. ‘Chloe, if you want to leave early, have some soldiers escort you.’
For the first time, as they approached the bireme, Aristocles found himself close enough to read the lettering on her side. ‘Nexotardis,’ he read.
‘A strange name, and a strange people,’ Nilus said. ‘They insist we give their ship a wide berth, and then they invite us on board for a farewell banquet. I will never understand them.’
‘What is important is that we understand this ship,’ one of the other consuls said. ‘This is our chance to see it up close.’
‘Everyone, keep your eyes and ears open,’ Aristocles said. ‘Ask many questions and answer few.’
‘And why invite your daughter?’ Nilus was shaking his head.
‘Kargan asked for a musician and suggested Chloe. I couldn’t deny her existence, given the fact that he has met her.’
‘Father gave me the option of refusing,’ Chloe said.
Aristocles took in the sight of the bireme as they walked to the lowered gangway, little more than a plank with steps fitted at regular intervals. He’d seen bigger merchant vessels, but this was easily the largest warship he’d ever encountered. He looked at the spike of the bronze ram, prominently visible with the warship drawn up on the beach bow first. He tried not to stare too hard, but he couldn’t take his eyes off it.
‘Aristocles,’ Nilus whispered. ‘Face front.’
Aristocles led Chloe up the gangway, their progress made easier by the fact that they wore no boots or sandals. Reaching the top deck, open to the elements, he was confronted by a long space of planks worn smooth by the passage of countless feet, cleared for the occasion. The section of decking farthest from shore, behind the big mast, had been set up for a banquet. Cushions clustered in piles beside carpets woven with strange dizzying patterns. Swarthy bare-chested men in loose loincloths held small wine jugs ready to pour. Immense iron bowls used as braziers cast warm light, tended unceasingly by dedicated slaves, for the danger of fire aboard a wooden ship was obvious.
Kargan waited to greet the consuls as they crested the gangway. He wore the same flowing yellow robe and curved dagger at his waist he had worn on his visit to the first consul’s villa. Aristocles could smell the sweet scent of oil in his black hair and curled beard.
‘First Consul,’ he addressed Aristocles, towering over the Phalesian. ‘Welcome to the Nexotardis. And your daughter is here. Welcome, lady.’
‘We are honored to have been invited,’ Aristocles said. He cast his eye over the deck, seeing dozens of Ileans, all strangers. Some were obviously slaves, but he found it difficult to ascertain if others were marines, officers, or crewmen.
‘First Consul, this is Hasha, the commander of my oarsmen. He will seat you while slaves bring refreshment.’
Aristocles followed the Ilean, a lean man with a hooked nose and curled mustaches, who led him to one of the carpets.
‘We will sit in the manner to which we are accustomed in our lands,’ Hasha said.
‘Of course, I would expect no different.’
Aristocles made himself comfortable, following Hasha’s example and arranging the cushions behind his back. Soon the other four consuls were also seated on the carpets, with Chloe reclining beside her father.
Aristocles saw that despite the presence of so many men on deck, Kargan had them in careful order, with the Phalesians in a section with the men he presumed were the senior officers and crewmen, while the rougher-looking Ileans were placed near the bow. The ship’s crew displayed an astonishing variety of builds, from lean to squat, and skin tones from the darkest brown to a light olive color little different from the Phalesians. Some of the men had hooked noses while others had wide mouths and deep-set eyes. Aristocles guessed that they weren’t all Ileans; the crew was likely drawn from across the Salesian continent.
The last glow of twilight had faded from the sky and a million pinpricks now shone in night’s curtain above. Though the warship was drawn up on the beach, her stern, where Aristocles’ group sat high on the upper deck, was in the water, and rocked gently from side to side. He glanced up when he heard a soft patter that became a rumble and saw a man with a drum between his knees, tapping a rhythm with his fingers that caused the heart to beat a little faster.