The patrol galley was returning early, an hour after dawn instead of noon, and she was making at least seven knots, battle speed. ‘All hands, prepare to get underway!’ Hamilcar shouted, his order repeated to the galleys surrounding the Alissar in the middle harbour of Tyndaris. The drum beat of standard speed shattered the early morning calm, its repetition across the fleet creating a staccato beat that blended to somehow signify the urgency created by Hamilcar’s unexpected command. Hamilcar steered the Alissar to intercept the incoming galley, his heart racing as his mind flashed to the possible explanations for the patrol’s early arrival. Belus was now two days overdue, a thought that was never far from Hamilcar’s mind. A storm had rolled over Tyndaris two days before, bringing heavy rain and a strong on-shore wind. In the confines of the harbour the wind had merely unfurled the banners and set them racing. Out at sea that same wind could have caused Belus to sail close to shore, lengthening his journey considerably although Hamilcar was forced to admit that even so, his old friend should have returned some twenty-four hours before.
