Spartacus (The White Stone Version), Sabinus/Castus and others
Their shadows are long as they follow the ivory footpath across the rocks, back to the docks and the Siren. Abibaal and Ummashtarte await them at the ship, she mending her brother’s nets as he brought in fish for dinner. “Fish again,” grumbles Saxa. “I feel myself sprouting scales.”
“Will I wake to find a sea monster in my bed?” Belesa quips.
“One who would eat you while you sleep,” Saxa replies with a leer.
“You will have nothing for your meal unless you cook it yourself,” Ummashtarte says darkly. “Giulia and Marco left with Leandros and have not returned.”
Castus reassures them of Leandros’ capability, but Sabinus notes the tension in his lover’s brow. To ease the others, he guides them in securing their purchases, taking inventory of their newly replenished stocks and reminding himself to ask Castus how long they travel to their next port. Amidst his calculations, Castus appears.
“I have concern,” he whispers, “but would not have the others know.”
Sabinus nods. “I share your concerns. Are you certain that fugitives will not raise suspicion here?”
Castus’ eyes shine, ivory in the darkness of the hold. “Once I was, but now I fear I am not.”
Sabinus draws a deep breath. To have fought so hard, to have reached this point, and then to fall back under the thumb of Rome—the thought chills him. “I will seek them,” he says. “Leandros said his people were bakers in Rabat. They should be easy to find.”
“I will go with you,” said Castus, but Sabinus lifted his hand.
“It is better I go alone. I still stand Roman, at least in their eyes, and can explain my presence here.”
Castus moved as if to protest, but Sabinus hushed him with a kiss. “I will return before sunrise.”
Malta is a rocky land, Sabinus finds, one dotted with jagged stones determined to trip him even though he travels the main road on the island. There are few landmarks here, only a few scrub trees and ivory outcroppings of rock breaking the horizon, and Sabinus does not want to get lost more than he does not want to meet any inquisitive Romans. It is late, though, and the few people he passes favour wine over questions. He stumbles along with them toward Rabat.