by R. W. Peake
When I turned to look to Saloninus, I saw Vitruvius already on the bench, and in the same posture as Minucius, which meant it had worked. Barely perhaps, but it worked, which was what counted, and two more of our men, both from the First Section from both Centuries were already standing at the second bench on either side. The first slave on my side was not so fortunate, because while his comrade avoided being struck by his body, the man was unable to break his fall and he struck his head as he tumbled all the way to the bottom of the ship. I was only vaguely aware of this, noticing there was movement down in the bottom, but it was not important enough to distract me as I explained the process again, then Saloninus and I counted down and my ranker dropped down onto the footboard, except this time, the slave, having seen what was expected, and I suppose not wanting to suffer the fate of his unconscious comrade, who never woke up again, slid off his bench in the right direction, while my ranker replaced him. I suppose it should have occurred to me that, as the men, both Legionary and slave, saw what needed to be done, the process would go more smoothly each time, meaning that I was surprised when we reached the last bench.
The second row was a bit more complicated, and we learned very quickly that dropping down from the main walkway was riskier, so for the second row, we had our men lower themselves down onto the beam that served the top row I mentioned earlier. Once this was worked out, it went as smoothly as the first tier, but when it was time for the third, we learned that both Motius and we officers had been correct about the lowest bench being the hardest, it was not because we were wrong about the idea that one man could manage at least a stroke on his own. Honestly, it was so simple that I was ashamed we had not thought of it, and I could tell by the look on Saloninus’ face he felt the same way. Replacing a single man sitting on a bench is straightforward, if a bit tricky to do, but what happens when there are two men sitting side by side? We had replaced everyone else by having the slave slide towards the walkway, but that was impossible with the lowest bench, for the simple reason that there would be a body in the way, whether it was the original rower or one of my men who replaced him. Finally, we decided that we would use the method accidentally introduced to us by the first slave, who had been dragged out of the way to keep him from being underfoot, except that we would be prepared for it by putting one of the slaves who had been relieved standing in the bottom of the ship to catch the man closest to the side of the ship and help break his fall. Once the man on the outside was replaced, the second man was replaced in the manner we had used for the other two rows. Then, it was done, and Saloninus and I found ourselves standing at the stern, on the very lowest level, and our tunics were as soaked as if we had just been fished out of the water, but now we were faced with another problem.
“Where do we put the slaves to let them rest?”
I did not realize I had said this aloud, but what was worse was my realization that we had not thought this far ahead. Normally, the slaves on the top two rows used their benches, where they were forced to sleep on their backs with their legs dangling over the edge, although I had seen some who were short enough that they could curl up on their side, while one man on the bottom row dropped down to the bottom, but none of that that was possible now. However, as pressing as it was, I was still more concerned about our larger situation.
Turning to Saloninus, I tried to soften the blow by grinning as I said, “I’m sure you’ll figure out something. I,” I was already clambering up the ladder that brought me back up to the walkway, “have to go find out if we still have a chance to get away.”
Chapter Two
I was surprised to see how the sun had not seemed to drop all that much when I reached the upper deck, although I did pause for a moment to bring in a few large breaths of fresh air; it is a funny thing, but once you are in a place that smells as foul as the main compartment of a trireme packed with filthy slaves and only slightly less filthy Legionaries for a length of time, you cease to notice it. The fresh air also helped clear my head and revive me somewhat, but when I clambered up to the upper stern deck, I was dismayed to see that our pursuers were still gaining. However, when I expressed this to Motius, he was unconcerned, and he explained why.
“With their sails, their oarsmen are saving a little energy, so they will be able to maintain this pace for a bit longer. But then,” at this, he did take his attention away from the sea ahead to glance at the sun, “they will start falling back, and we have less than one of your watches left before it grows dark enough to get away.”
Something occurred to me then, and I could not hide my worry as I asked, “What if they have spare oarsmen as well?”
Motius responded immediately, and with no doubt, shaking his head and explaining, “They do not, at least not enough to make a difference. These pirates do not use slaves, and they are all expected to fight when the time comes, so they do not need a larger crew.”
His tone was what I found more reassuring than the words themselves, so I accepted his explanation.
“Once it gets dark, how do you plan on losing them?”
Now his manner changed—slightly, but noticeably—though to his credit, he did not try to avoid the subject.
“That is what we need to talk about, Centurion. While we will change course, I am certain that you are not going to like it.”
This puzzled me, certainly, but it also made me uneasy, yet when I pressed him, he said, “Once it gets dark, Cador will come down to the cabin and explain to you where we will be heading.” My initial reaction was to think that the news must be so likely to anger me that Motius was sending Cador down into harm’s way, but he clearly understood this, because he lowered his voice so that the two crewmen here at the stern could not overhear, while Cador was currently at the bow serving as lookout. “If we do not want to arouse Cador’s suspicion that I know what he did to Vellocatus, then you need to act as if he is now the master of the ship, is that not so?”
“That,” I admitted, “is true.” Glancing up at the sun, I agreed with his assessment that we had about two parts of a watch of daylight left, saying, “Then we’ll be waiting to hear from the…master of the ship.”
When I returned below, Alex had a flask of water and a chunk of bread, which I wolfed down, but when I demanded more, he shook his head.
“We’re on half rations, Gnaeus,” he reminded me. “If I give you more now, you may not have anything later.”
He was right; I knew he was right, but that did not stop me from grumbling at him. I realized that I was extremely tired, and I decided to try and catch up on sleep now that matters had settled down. I lay there for a moment, listening to the drumbeat, and even with my relative lack of time aboard a ship, I could feel that the vessel was moving more jerkily than before, although I was not alarmed. After all, the boys are Legionaries, I thought, not sailors. With this thought, I drifted off.
When Alex shook me awake, I saw that while it was close to sunset, there was still a fair amount of time before it would be completely dark, and I was about to ask him why he had not let me sleep a bit more when his words cut through the fog.
“Saloninus needs you; there’s a problem.”
Of course I moved quickly, and when I entered the main compartment, I understood immediately why Saloninus was alarmed. Since the men were facing me, it only took a glance at their faces to understand two things; that they were tiring much more quickly than the slaves had, and that we should have anticipated this. Not that it would have changed our decision, since this was the only possibility for escape, but this did not make me feel any better, my stomach suddenly threatening to send my recently digested chunk of bread back up.
“They’re not in shape for this,” I murmured to Saloninus, whose only response was a grim nod. “I should have thought about this.”
“We all should have,” he replied quietly. “I didn’t think about it any more than any of us did, Gnaeus.”
Before I could talk myself out of it, I moved down the walkway towards the bow, bo
th worried that what I was about to do might not work and ashamed that I was going to stoop to this.
“You boys look tired!” It was not just the volume, but the tone I employed that I hoped would do the job. “Is that it? You’re tired?” I walked back and forth, looking side to side, but while some of the men nodded or muttered something, they remained in rhythm, however poorly. My bellow of laughter not only caught them by surprise, but I saw that it angered a good number of them. “I just think you’re soft!” I shouted scornfully. “This isn’t the Fourth Cohort I know! This isn’t the Fourth Cohort that my father led!” This finally elicited a stronger reaction, but the shouts of protest some of them offered were too scattered and too half-hearted. I needed them to be unified, and I needed them to be angry, so I spun about and stalked over to one of the men who had shouted from the top row. “Did you say something, Tappo? Are you arguing with your Centurion?” I sneered, and when he broke eye contact, I said, “I didn’t think so. You don’t have the balls to disagree, because deep down, you know it’s true!” Shaking my head, I continued sadly, “No, this isn’t the Fourth I know.” Suddenly, I stopped in my pacing, frowning as if something had just occurred to me. “While I was gone, did something happen? Eh? Did the slaves overpower my men and take their tunics? Is that what happened? That I’m looking at a bunch of slaves?”
It was a ludicrous thing to say, of course; there was no comparison between my men who, as lean as they were, still looked sleek and well-fed compared to the slaves, not to mention their hair wasn’t matted with filth, nor did they have beards. And under any other circumstances, the men of the First and Second would have laughed off my insinuation as what it was, a desperate attempt to get under their collective skins. But I had seen their expressions, and even more importantly, their body posture; yes, they were still hauling on their oars, and yes, they were still in a passable rhythm, albeit barely, but the worst possible thing had happened to my boys that can happen to a soldier. They had begun to doubt themselves. As their fatigue grew, it opened the door a crack for that doubt to creep in, for the idea that they were not up to this challenge, and I was positive that a large proportion of the force that was driving this doubt was the fact that a bunch of emaciated slaves had just lasted twice as long.
“All right, boys! Let’s show the Pilus Prior just how full of cac he is! What do you say?”
In the enclosed space, the roar made my ears ring, but despite the very last words being immediately drowned out, I had recognized the voice, coming from the bow of the boat, as belonging to Minucius, yet I made sure my face did not betray that I was pleased; it was too soon for that.
Instead, I shook my head, and as soon as the noise died down, I shot back, “Talk is cheap, boys! Show me in your deeds, not your words!”
“We will!”
“We swear it, Pilus Prior!”
“We’ll show you!”
These cries rang out from all points inside the compartment, but it was the last call that actually drove me from the compartment.
“We’ll do it for you, and for your father!”
I did not make eye contact with Saloninus as I hurried out past him, as for another time, Titus Pullus helped his son, and the men he used to lead.
The men of the First and Second Century stayed at their posts, maintaining the same rhythm for the rest of that watch, and two parts into the first night watch before Motius declared that we had successfully evaded our pursuers.
“All but one of them turned around before it got dark,” he told me when I went up onto deck, where the light of a three-quarter moon bounced silver rays off the water, which had become slightly choppy. “The last one might be out there, but I doubt it. Six against one is worth the risk, but no single ship will be trying to board another single ship. Those are bad odds.” This made sense to me, so I said nothing, which he correctly took as my acknowledgement. “Centurion,” his tone altered subtly, “please tell your men for me that they performed magnificently. They truly surpassed what I thought them capable of.”
I could not argue this as far as their surpassing even my expectations, but I do confess it nettled me a bit, and I asked, a bit sharply, “And what did you think would happen?”
“That they would last maybe a third part of one of your watches,” he answered, but before I could react, he grinned and added, “but I do not think I would do much better.”
This was when I understood his true meaning; it was not about their strength or their stamina, but the fact that, like with anything, performing a prolonged physical activity that one is not accustomed to is much more taxing than something one does often. In fact, I remembered how I felt after I swung an axe the first time when we were cutting down the timber to make the fleet.
“Cador will be coming to your cabin shortly, Centurion,” Motius reminded me, which I also took as his hint that I was overstaying my welcome in his world, although I did not begrudge him for that; I knew how I would feel if he had come into a marching camp and always hung about as I was doing my job.
I had Alex fetch the other officers except for Mus and Herennius, who stayed to keep an eye on our rations, and we were crammed in the cabin chatting quietly while we waited for Cador. We were not drifting, and my men had been relieved by the slaves, who were stroking at the slowest pace possible that still kept us moving, but after Motius had changed our course to break away from our pursuers, I had no sense that we had altered it any more. Finally, the rap on the door came, but when Alex opened it, while Cador was there, Motius was with him.
“Cador asked me to come with him,” he offered as they entered the cabin, but because of his position, I could not meet his eye to get an idea as to the reason for this change.
There was no real need to understand why; Cador was perspiring heavily despite the cool night, and he was obviously very nervous.
He began well enough, echoing Motius. “I want to thank you and your men on behalf of the crew, Centurion. And,” he turned to execute an awkward little bow, “to you other officers as well. What they did today not only saved their own lives, but ours as well.”
The thought crossed my mind that perhaps this called for some wine, then I remembered Alex telling me that there was only enough for one cupful, so I remained silent, watching as Cador opened the chest, except this time, he extracted two scrolls. I could see that Saloninus and the others shared my sense that something was about to happen that we might not like, but I am certain none of us had any idea about what it would be. The first map was the one I had seen before, but while I noticed that Cador was careful to place it at one end of the desk, I thought it was only to give enough room for the second map, which he unrolled now. And, I immediately saw that his hand was shaking, causing me to look sharply at Motius, who was standing slightly behind Cador’s bent back. This map had clearly been rolled for some time because it would not stay flat until, muttering what I assumed was a curse, Cador set my cup on one edge, then unfurled the map so that we could all see. Which, it must be said, we stared at completely uncomprehendingly since it did not appear to us to make any sense, based on a common assumption.
“Shouldn’t you turn that map?” Saloninus asked. “So that we can see the rest of the Gallic coast?”
For that was the cause of our confusion; the jagged but clearly drawn line that marked the beginning of land on this second map was running up and down from my perspective and not parallel with what I knew was the map of the coast of Germania and Gaul. I suppose that was what jogged my memory, and I felt a sudden lurch in my stomach as my mind started to understand why this was the case.
“Wait a moment,” I heard my voice, but it did not sound much like mine. “Does this mean what I think it means?”
Cador’s nerve apparently failed, because his mouth opened, then shut, then opened, before he finally turned to look over his shoulder at Motius, and I saw the flicker of disgust on the Motius’ part.
“Centurion,” he said quietly, “if you think that it means we are
looking at a map of the coast of Britannia, then you are correct. And,” he hurried on, and I could understand why, “we are closer to Britannia than anywhere else. We are going to have to row there if we want to survive.”