When we set out the day had been overcast. Passing Surrentum the shoreline cliffs had been a shadowed mix of dark-green vegetation and honey-toned rocks against the hazier colours of the mountain range behind; the sea was a rippling pewter grey, slightly threatening beneath the sullen sky. Now, as we approached the island which lay like the double hump of two basking whales, the cloud cover thinned. Only the frothy white triangle which often hovers above Capreae still served as a marker from afar. We sailed on in bright sunlight, over a blue sea of gemstone intensity.
The island seemed to rush nearer at a faster speed. From the main harbour a small regatta of pleasure boats streamed out, their sails making a line of dark red dots in apparently haphazard chase. If the Isis Africana had been among them we should never have picked her out, but as Curtius Gordianus gave Laesus directions we left the little boats far to one side while we pressed in close to the sheer crags. Slowly we explored these deep secluded bays where access could only ever be by water. Sometimes dark cave mouths gaped in the rock wall above. All round the island there was plenty of activity from fishing and excursion boats, though none disturbed the limpidly bright lagoon where the Sea Scorpion finally crept in and found the Isis moored.
Crispus and Pertinax were bathing. It was a strangely relaxed scene.
We sailed closer without fuss, and Laesus dropped anchor. The swimmers were watching us. Keeping his face hidden, Gordianus hailed Crispus cheerfully, like some old friend whose arrival today was a happy coincidence. We saw Crispus float on his back as if he were considering, and possibly cursing, us; then he set off to his yacht with a lazy overarm stroke, following Pertinax who had started swimming at once. Once it became clear they were not weighing anchor the Chief Priest and I were rowed across to them, taking Milo, in a skiff.
When we clambered aboard, Aufidius Crispus was towelling off on deck, a squat, muscular figure covered in dark hair. Pertinax had disappeared into the galley, as if to dress in privacy; perhaps he hoped we were casual visitors who would not stay. Crispus pulled on a loose red tunic whose metallic braid was well tarnished from frequent exposure to salt spray. He shook water from his ears with a vigour I remembered him applying to other things.
'What a surprise!' he said, with no surprise at all on his swarthy jowls. He was expecting the magistrate, but accepted we had come to take over the arrangement, for he called out robustly, 'Gnaeus! Come out here; I want you to meet some old friends!'
Since there was little else for it, Atius Pertinax shuffled on deck. He wore a white tunic already belted, and his usual tight expression. When he recognized Gordianus his river-water eyes became guarded. Reluctantly he grinned; then slouched closer, offering to shake hands.
Remembering his brother, Gordianus had frozen. He could not bear the proffered handclasp. I stepped forward myself.
'The name's Falco,' I announced, as our quarry jerked his head in annoyance and shock. 'I'm supposed to be dead-but so are you.' Then I stood to attention and formally announced: 'Gnaeus Atius Pertinax Caprenius Marcellus, also known as Barnabas, in the name of Vespasian Augustus you are under arrest! I am taking you into custody and transferring you to Rome. You have the right to a trial by your equals in the Senate, or you may exercise every citizen's privilege and appeal to the Emperor himself. To do that,' I informed him with relish, 'you must prove who you are first!'
'What are the charges?' Pertinax blustered.
'Oh, conspiracy against the Empire, murder, religious arson, assault on a Roman watch captain-and intending to murder me!'