The Governor's Man by Jacquie Rogers (best beach reads TXT) 📕

Tiro heard the soft regular footfalls of the chestnut bringing up the rear. As so often the boss was silent, keeping himself to himself. Tiro reckoned Quintus had had words with his lady, too, but there was no knowing the upshot there. And what about young Aurelia? Her true parentage couldn’t be denied; soon as you saw her with the boss, you knew. Poor little lass. Her world had turned upside down, and now her new father was leaving too. But perhaps Aurelia didn’t yet know who Quintus was, wouldn’t know until the Imperial Investigator came back from this mission. That made Tiro sit upright. He’d make damn sure Aurelia got her real father back and in one piece. He’d made that promise in a quiet moment to Britta, and he’d keep it even if all the Furies came after them.

They broke out from the tree-cover into bright moonlight. Drusus drew rein. They were near the western end of the hills, looking across the bronze-brown Severn Sea towards the country of the Silures. The boy raised his spear, pointing to the left. Tiro saw that a narrow well-made bridle path zigzagged down to a small town on the river bank. The Pedrida looped its way across country from the east, widening and turning muddy as it reached the little port. Decurion Sorio had explained that the silt washed along by Sabrina was carried upstream into the Pedrida by vast tides.

‘You won’t believe the tides are round about here, Frumentarius. And we get tidal bores, many times the height of a man. You can’t outpace the water if you’re caught out on the sands. Very dangerous the Summer Country waters are, especially when it’s full moon in spring.’

Tiro doubted Quintus believed the Decurion. Everyone thinks their own patch is special, after all. But Tiro had seen the difference between high and low tides in the Tamesis, and knew how dangerous tidal waters could be. He edged up to Drusus to peer down over the moonlit settlement. It was a gaggle of storehouses and a few small cottages huddled together between the slope under them, and the sombre silty riverbank. Small merchant ships were tied side-on to the quay, their mainsails furled away. One or two round hide-covered coracles were drawn up downstream.

Tiro shuddered. He had never learned to swim properly, and had an aversion to the sea. The only waters he enjoyed were the steaming ones in town baths. He didn’t even like water to drink, preferring beer at any time of day. And there was no sign of the fast naval galley Marcellus mentioned.

‘When is high tide, Drusus?’ Quintus asked.

‘ Around an hour before sunrise.’

‘Good. Your father tells me the crossing upriver to Aust should take no more than eight hours with a fast-rowing crew, so we should disembark before dark tomorrow. I gather the waters can be challenging.’

Tiro spat over his shoulder for luck, catching the cynical look on his superior’s face.

‘Time enough for Tiro to make his offerings to the goddess of the river.’ Drusus helpfully pointed to a worn stone marker overlooking the muddy foreshore. Tiro had every intention of paying his respects to the ancient and important goddess Sabrina before entering her watery domain. His musings were interrupted by Drusus.

‘That’s odd. There’s a horse coming up. She seems to be riderless.’

An old mare shambled up the path, turning onto the wider brow of the hill with a faint whinny of greeting to the other horses. She stooped to graze, and Tiro recognised with a shock the old nag they had requisitioned in Lindinis.

‘Sir! That’s the horse Caesulanus was tied to.’

Quintus pulled his chestnut round and began to descend the steep path in haste. Tiro blessed Luna for her timely gift of brilliant light as he followed. Drusus, being young and heedless, kicked his boots into his grey’s flanks and managed to bypass both of them, galloping headlong downhill.

‘Young fool,’ Quintus said, but he and Tiro kept pace with Drusus. Miraculously they all arrived at the bottom intact. The moon was still high over the Severn Sea and now they could make out a figure stumbling along the beach. Caesulanus was making for the coracles pulled up beyond the high tide mark. Large pools opened under his feet, making a sucking noise loud enough to be heard over their hoofbeats. They cantered after him, gaining quickly. The man swerved away, heading directly for the water. Perhaps he thought he could get away by swimming.

Drusus pulled his horse up sharply, and yelled back to them. ’We can’t ride any further. These are shivering sands. We’ll all be sucked under if we go further on horseback.’ He flung himself off his horse. The others copied him. Quintus reached for the boy’s spear. Caesulanus turned his head to look and his very next step slid him knee-deep into the treacherous mud. He seemed to pause, swinging his body to and fro in a vain effort to free his legs. Each movement sucked him further under the silt, now a watery black under the shining eye of Luna. He froze as they cautiously approached, Quintus testing each step with the spear.

‘Get me out of this stinking mud, and I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.’

The trapped man’s voice shook. Even that small movement made his body sink deeper. They were close now, Tiro not far from the prisoner. He could see the whites of his eyes, and the shallow rapid breaths betraying his panic. With every breath Caesulanus was sinking further.

Afterwards, Tiro had leisure to wonder at his own recklessness. Number one, he couldn’t swim. Number two, he knew as well as any man how dangerous estuary silt can be. Number three, the dark brackish mud was freezing cold. Number four, he maybe had a better life come back