Of Merchants & Heros Read Online Free Page A

changed the subject and began to talk of his own affairs – the supplies to the fleet which he sourced from Italy and Greece; the difficulties he had with employees and slaves, and other business to do with agents and cargoes. And then he dismissed me, saying he had an appointment at the naval yard, and we should speak again presently.
    I waited for the rest of that day, but he did not send for me again. On the following morning he went out early, and did not return till night.
    Three days passed. Then four. Each morning I expected he would tell me he had arranged my passage home. I thought, at first, he was leaving me to rest and recover, but on the fifth day, tired of waiting, I went unbidden to his workroom and asked him.
    I had begun to wonder, indeed, whether it was a question of money, though he did not seem short of it, and so I began by saying, ‘I realize, sir, I have nothing to pay my passage; but I am sure my mother, when she hears, will arrange—’
    ‘Come now, Marcus,’ he said, cutting me off with a wave of his hand. ‘This is not a time to talk of money, not at all – though,’ he added, his eye dwelling on mine, ‘I am glad to see you are mindful of it and give it its proper value.’ He sat back in his chair. ‘But I was just about to come to this, for as it happens I have decided to make a trip to Italy myself. One of my own trading ships is due to sail for Brundisium with a cargo of Korinthian silver-work at month-end, and—’
    ‘—Month-end?’ I cried, shaken out of all politeness and staring at him. ‘But sir, it is only just new moon.’
    His fleshy mouth hardened.
    ‘I do not need to be told what day it is.’ He waited for me to apologize, then went on, ‘You need not concern yourself with your mother: I have already sent her a letter; and, since you have wisely brought up the question of money, you must ask yourself why I should pay passage on another man’s ship, when I can use my own.’
    He raised his plump hand and made a money-counter’s sign with his fingers. ‘This,’ he said, when he was sure I had understood the gesture, ‘is how I have succeeded in life. Your father never thought in such terms – if he had, he might have made more of himself.’
    I looked down at the inlaid floor, for I could not trust myself to meet his eye. I had crossed mountains and forests and ravines to get here; I told myself this was just one ordeal more in a season of pain, and then I should be home, and need never see this man again.

TWO
    I FOUND MY MOTHER sitting at her loom, in her favourite room with the rowan-shaded window that looked out towards the distant hills.
    The late sunlight, shafting through the window, was on her face, and for a moment I saw her expression of deep, hopeless sadness. But then, hearing me enter, she looked round, and seemed to drive it from her by an act of will. She stood, and extended her arms to me, and at this all my carefully prepared words left me.
    Hurrying forward I cried, ‘Mother!’ and embraced her. And then, at last, the tears came.
    She held herself still and silent in my embrace. I said, ‘He wrote to you.’
    ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘he wrote. But I knew before that. Priscus was in Rome when the news came. There was a girl travelling with you; there was a ransom demand. She was a senator’s daughter. They wanted gold.’
    ‘Yes,’ I said, remembering.
    She eased herself away from me. She was wearing her hair tied up as she always did. Fine wisps of it spilled about her brow. There was more grey in it than I remembered.
    ‘As soon as he heard, Priscus cut short his visit and hurried here to tell me. But at Rome there was no word of you. It was only when I received Caecilius’s letter that I knew you were alive.’
    I said, ‘Has no one else come back?’
    She shook her head and looked out at the sloping lawns. ‘The consuls sent a warship to Epeiros. They found only bodies . . . or what the wolves and crows had left of them. You are the