Emperor: the field of swords E#3 Read Free Page B

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        Servilia stood at the rail of the little trade ship, watching the scurrying figures on the docks as they grew closer. There were hundreds of small boats in the waters around the port of Valentia, and the merchant captain had twice ordered fishing crews to steer away from his ship as they pressed in. There seemed to be no order to it, and Servilia found herself smiling as yet another young Spaniard held up a fish he had caught and shouted prices up at her. She noted how the man balanced as his coracle bucked in the swell. He wore only a narrow cloth around his waist, with a knife dangling from a wide belt on a leather thong. Servilia thought he was beautiful.
        The captain waved the boat away and was ignored as the fisherman scented a sale to the woman who laughed down so prettily at him.
        “I will buy his catch, Captain,” Servilia said.
        The Roman merchant frowned, his heavy eyebrows pulling together.
        “They’re your coins, but the prices will be better in port,” he said.
        She reached out and patted his shoulder and his gruff manner disappeared in confusion.
        “Nonetheless, the sun is hot, and after so long aboard, I’d love something fresh.”
        The captain gave way with little grace, picking up the heavy coil of rope and heaving it over the side. The fisherman tied the end to a net at his feet and then climbed up to the deck, swinging his legs over the rail with easy agility as he reached the top. The young Spaniard was dark and hard from his labors, with white smears of salt on his skin. He bowed deeply in response to her appraisal and began pulling up his net. Servilia watched the play of muscles in his arms and shoulders with the eye of a connoisseur.
        “Won’t your little boat drift away?” she asked.
        The young Spaniard opened his mouth to reply and the captain snorted.
        “He’ll speak only his own language, I’m afraid. They don’t have much in the way of schools until we build them.”
        Servilia caught the scornful flash in the young man’s eyes as he listened. A narrow rope trailed from the net to his boat and with a flick of his wrist the Spaniard hitched it to the rail, tapping the knot with a finger in answer to Servilia’s question.
        The net contained a writhing mass of dark blue fish, and Servilia shuddered and stepped clear as they flopped and jumped on contact with the deck. The fisherman laughed at her discomfort and pulled a big one up by its tail. It was as long as his arm and still very much alive. Servilia saw its eye move wildly as the fish jerked in his hand. Its blue skin was glossy and perfect and a darker line ran from the tail to the head. She nodded and held up five fingers to an answering beam.
        “Will five be enough for the crew, Captain?” she asked.
        The Roman grunted his approval and whistled for two of the seamen to take the fish.
        “Just a few coppers will do, madam,” he said.
        Servilia unclipped a wide band around her wrist, revealing her small coins. She selected a silver denarius and handed it to the young man. He raised his eyebrows and added another of the largest fish from the net before pulling the drawstring tight. He flashed a triumphant expression at the captain and jerked his knot free before climbing the rail and diving into the blue water below. Servilia leaned over to watch him surface and laughed with pleasure as he pulled himself back in, gleaming in the sunlight like his fish. He pulled his net out of the water and waved to her.
        “What a wonderful beginning,” she breathed. The captain muttered something unintelligible.
        The crewmen who held the fish brought wooden clubs out of a deck locker and, before Servilia realized what they were doing, brought them down on the shining heads with a grim thumping sound. The eyes disappeared under the force of the blows, knocked inside the head as blood spattered