by R. W. Peake
And, as he finished, in the silence just before the cabin exploded in noise, I swear on Jupiter’s stone that I heard mocking laughter.
As unpalatable as it was, by the time Motius, with the barely noticeable help of Cador, had finished, none of us doubted that our situation was what they said it was. Their credibility was helped by their clear unhappiness at the prospect of this choice, but it was also Motius’ manner as he described how, now that there had been two days of clear weather, both during the day and night, he was able to calculate our position with more accuracy, although he also took pains to prepare us for the idea his calculations were approximate. The clinching argument was straightforward.
“If we continue westward, we should be within sight of land by this time two days from now, if we only have the slaves row,” Motius explained. “If you order your men to spell them, we will reach the same spot with enough daylight to choose a safe place to put ashore.” Looking around at each of us, he continued, “If we turned and sail directly south, even if your men helped, we would need four days, perhaps five. And,” he added, “we would run the risk of encountering those ships that chased us.”
It may seem odd, but this was the first moment it occurred to me to ask, “Who are those cunni? Gallic pirates? I never heard about pirates in these waters.”
“That is because they are not pirates, nor are they from Gaul,” Cador spoke for the first time. “They are raiders, probably from the Chersenesos Peninsula. Or,” he allowed, “maybe from Scandavia.”
“Where in Hades is that?” Gemellus blurted out, but it was a good question. Scandavia was familiar to me, though I could not immediately place why, but not Chersenesos.
“Chersenesos is to the east of the Albis River. According to Strabo, it is several hundred miles, and it runs north from the rest of the coast of Germania.”
Despite the gravity of the moment, I had to suppress a smile at the looks of astonishment, and it was Columella, who like all of us, was fond of my clerk, who growled, “Should have known if anyone knew, it would be you. You Greeks love to read when you’re not buggering each other.”
Alex was far too experienced and accustomed to this treatment to do anything other than grin at the Second’s Optio, who gave him a playful shove.
“You’re not giving him enough to do if he has so much time to read, Pilus Prior,” Herennius scoffed, but it was still said with the same rough and affectionate humor.
“I’ll remember that next time you want help tallying your bank, Herennius,” Alex countered. “You can explain to the boys in the Second why they’re short on their accounts.”
Herennius was wise enough to know there was no real rebuttal to this, but it was Cador who resumed speaking, although it was almost as if to himself.
“It is odd, though. I have never heard of any of those savages from Chersenesos being this far west, or the barbarians from Scandavia sailing so deep into Gallic waters.”
“Could they be from Britannia?” Saloninus asked, but both Cador and Motius shook their heads.
“The Britons don’t have ships capable of handling the open seas. Their ships are made for crossing the channel between Britannia and Gaul at most,” Motius explained.
“I don’t care who they are,” I broke in, thinking that while this was interesting, unless whoever they were had a bearing on our future, they were now a part of our past. “What are the chances of running into them again?”
“Next to nothing,” Motius assured me, though I did not care for the qualifier much.
“Could we stretch the rations far enough to get to Gaul?” Saloninus asked Herennius and Mus, but it was Cador who answered.
“It is not the food that is the problem, Opt…I mean, Centurion.” He managed to recover himself, although I was more irritated than Saloninus at what I perceived to be a slight. “Unless there is a storm, or even a good rain, we will not have enough water.”
And with that, we all accepted that we were heading for Britannia.
“What do either of you know about Britannia?” I asked. “I know there’s trade going all the time, but I’ve always been under the impression that it’s almost exclusively with the tribes and Roman settlements along the western coast of Gaul.”
“They certainly do most of it,” Motius agreed, “but there has been trading from the Rhenus and the Mosa for a long time. And,” he indicated himself, “I was part of Vellocatus’ crew three years ago when we took some cargo from the Mosa across the channel.”
“Then you’re at least familiar with the island,” I said hopefully, but he shook his head.
“I am familiar with this part.” He pointed down to the lower part of the map, where the land bulged out to the east, narrowing the gap of water between Britannia and Gaul, which, understandably, was where most of the traffic in trade between the island and the mainland took place. Moving his hand, he pointed to a spot farther up to the north that looked as if some invisible giant had cut a slice out of the island that actually reached the edge of the map that would be the west; as I learned later from Motius, the mariners’ map of Britannia only went roughly fifty miles inland from the coast. “We are heading directly for somewhere along here.” His finger tapped the missing slice. “This is the estuary of a major river, although I do not know its name. The land on the north side of this estuary is controlled by a tribe called the Brigantes, and south of it the Parisii. And south of the Parisii are the Iceni, although we will not be encountering them if we land where I intend.”
“And?” I asked him. “What are they like?”
“They are savage, they are wild, and they love to fight,” Motius answered immediately, which was met with groans from the rest of us, yet he did not seem all that perturbed.
“Why aren’t you worried about this?” I asked, suddenly suspicious, but never could have I dreamed of the cause for his seeming complacency.
“Because we will have something to bargain with,” he explained. “Remember I told you I had sailed with Vellocatus three years ago.” I nodded, and he continued, “On the voyage, many of the slaves grew sick with the bloody flux. We lost so many that we were mainly using our sail to make it the rest of the way to Britannia. And,” he shrugged, “we needed slaves.” He suddenly smiled, but I sensed a melancholy quality to it, which I understood when he said, “Vellocatus was furious because we had to use almost all of the profit from that voyage just to buy enough slaves to power the ship.” The light from the lamp caught the sudden glint of tears, and for a moment, I worried that Motius’ grief for his brother would cause him to renege on his promise, but he barely glanced at Cador as he went on, “The tribes of Britannia are always at war with each other, and they have the same custom of taking slaves as everyone else. And,” now he smiled, “it just so happened that there had been a battle between the Iceni and the Parisii not long before, so the slave market was filled with Parisii warriors.” Suddenly, he jerked a thumb over his shoulder towards the main compartment. “Almost half of our crew are Parisii.”
“And,” I mused, “you’re planning on offering those men in exchange for safety and their help in making repairs and resupplying.”
“Yes, Centurion,” he nodded, then held up a hand, “but I must warn you of something. While I am certain of our general position and where we are in relation to the estuary, it is entirely possible that we are north of it, so we may have to follow the coast south to find it, because we do not want to land in Brigantes land with Parisii aboard, even if they are slaves.”
The next challenge that faced me was whether to tell the men, but fairly quickly, I was persuaded that it was best to inform them, if only to help soften the blow.
“I think they’re going to react badly no matter when we tell them,” was how Saloninus put it, “but when they finally see land and that’s when we tell them it’s fucking Britannia that they’re looking at?” He shook his head, and while he said it in a joking manner, I knew he was at least partly serious when he finished. “You and I wi
ll probably be swimming the rest of the way if we want to keep our skin.”
Now, I did not, nor do I think Saloninus believed that our men would actually physically attack us, but I took his larger point and agreed with it. Nevertheless, I could not resist having some fun at his expense.
“Well,” I grinned, “if you think I’m going in there and tell them by myself, you’re mad. Besides,” I added as I opened the door, “you’re the Pilus Posterior now, so you should address your boys, not me.”
Saloninus did not appear to enjoy my humor, but the others chuckled, although I know they were every bit as tense when we entered the compartment. The hammocks were back in their normal spots, and most of the men were in them, resting from their exertions, while the slaves were back on their benches. They had been allowed to stop rowing, and some of them were still slurping the slop that served as their meal from the wooden bowls that were distributed, then taken back up, while others had finished and were lying on their bench.
From just behind me, Alex asked, “Is it wise to tell the men down here? Should you take them up on deck?”
“Why?” I asked, not understanding his concern.
“Because of where we’re headed. Those Parisii slaves may not know our tongue, but they’re going to understand,” he lowered his voice, “the word Britannia.”
That, I realized, was true, but then after a heartbeat of thinking about it, I shook my head.
“Actually, I think it will work in our favor. If they know they’re going home, that’s likely to make them willing to work even harder, even if they don’t know about Motius’ plan to exchange them for help and safe passage. Besides,” I added my main reason for doing it down below, “if we take the men on deck, even if we warn them to keep their mouths shut, the chances are that they’re going to have something to say, and you know sound carries over water farther than over land. I know we’ve supposedly lost those bastards chasing us, but I’m not willing to take that risk.”
He said nothing, but the others nodded; whether it was because they agreed or that they were accepting my order did not really matter. Naturally, our entrance into the compartment had drawn the attention of the men nearest to the door who were still awake, and even in the darkness, I could see the stir of movement as they alerted the comrade next to them that something was happening. The only light was the reflection from the moon off the water that filtered through the oar holes, Cador forbidding the lighting of the lamps for the same reason I did not want the men on deck. Saloninus went with me as we walked down the walkway to about the middle of the ship, where we waited a few more heartbeats to give the men time to rouse themselves. I supposed from their viewpoint, we were just two dark shapes, but I felt confident they knew it was me and Saloninus.
Taking a deep breath, I began, “What I’m about to tell you is going to come as a shock, so I want you to prepare yourselves. The more noise you make means that the chance that those cunni chasing us who might still be nearby could actually find us if you do something stupid like shout. Is that understood?” The instant the words came out of my mouth, I winced, thinking, you stupid bastard, you know how they’re trained to respond when I ask a question. Fortunately, while they did answer, it was more of a rustle of murmurs than the normal kind of barked response, which I took as a positive sign, but there was only one way to find out, so I continued, “Because we had to move away from the coast in order to escape those pirates, we’re now at a point where we had to make a choice.” I deliberately used the past tense, not wanting to give the men the impression they had a chance of changing my mind. “As you all know, we’re on half rations, and they’ve run low, but our water situation is even more critical. According to our navarch, if we tried to go south to reach the coast, not only will we be in the western part of Gaul, the most important thing is that it would take us at least another four days. And,” I thought to add, “that’s even if we don’t run into those fucking pirates again.”
I paused then, and from the darkness, I recognized the voice of Frugi, the Sergeant of my Eighth Section. “How much water do we have left, Pilus Prior?”
“Enough for two days, three if we ration it,” I answered, then before anyone could ask something else, I took the opening he had offered by telling them, “which is why we’re headed for Britannia, because we should be there in two days.”
Later, I realized that the sudden, heavy silence was because the men of both Centuries were too shocked, but while it was quiet, there was a sudden stir of movement on both sides of the ship, although not from my rankers. The slaves who had seemed to be disinterested were the first to react, most of them sitting bolt upright on their benches, and there was a sudden buzzing of muted talk that, even if I could have heard it, would not have understood. But, as Alex had predicted, the Parisii among the crew obviously understood our destination.
“Britannia?”
That started it, and while I could not really blame the ranker who broke the silence, I still would have striped him for it if I had recognized his voice.
Before it got out of hand, I raised my voice, not quite to full volume. “Remember what I said, you bastards! If you act like a bunch of women and make enough noise, you won’t have to worry about getting to Britannia!”
I was intensely relieved that this worked, although it was no longer quiet, so it meant that the ranker who asked the next question had to raise his voice. “What if we’re attacked by the first barbarians we run into, Pilus Prior? What then?”
“We’ll fucking fight,” I snapped. “What do you think?” Then, I added, “But we’re not going to have to worry about that, because we have a plan.”
“What is it?”
I turned towards the bow, which was where the question originated.
“That’s something you don’t need to worry about, Capito,” recognizing the voice of my former Cornicen, despite the mumbling quality because of his broken jaw. “Just know that we have a plan.”
“How long do you think we’ll be stuck there, Pilus Prior?”
For the span of a heartbeat, I considered refusing to answer, mainly because I had no idea, but I knew I had to offer them something, so I told him, “I can’t see the future, Rufus, but I can promise you this. The moment the navarch tells us the repairs have been made, and we’ve restocked our supplies, we’ll be leaving on the first tide after that.”
There was some muttering to this, and it was not happy, but that was all that happened.
“Now, get some rest, because you’re going to be spelling the slaves so that we can get to our destination sooner. Nobody,” I hardened my tone, “has a problem with that, do they?” Again, the response was not exactly what I would expect, but I deemed it acceptable. Turning to Saloninus, I spoke quietly, “And that goes for all of us. Get some sleep. It’s been a busy day.”
I heard him chuckling at my understatement as I walked to the stern and exited the compartment.
If we thought the previous days had been an ordeal, we were disabused of that notion by the next two, because they were brutally hot, with almost no wind. In simple terms, it forced us to make a decision about the water rationing much sooner than we anticipated. As I recall, it was at end of first daylight watch when Cador and Motius approached me. We were allowing the men to spend time on the upper deck, in numbers that were greater than we had previously, thinking that it would at least help their spirits to be in the fresh air. I had appropriated the raised deck at the bow as the spot for the officers, and I was sitting with my back to the side with Saloninus on one side and Columella on the other, watching our men as they sat on the main deck in small groups, listlessly playing dice or talking.
Saloninus spotted the pair weaving around the clusters of men first, nudging me as I pretended to be deep in thought but was actually dozing, and I looked up just as they scrambled up the ladder, with Cador calling, “Centurions! We need to talk.”
They dropped down on their haunches with their backs to the main deck, but while the
y partially blocked my view, I could see that the dice games and conversations were temporarily forgotten as all eyes were on us at the bow.
Cador wisely kept his voice low, barely above a whisper as he said simply, “As you can tell, it is going to be hot today.” He paused, and realizing he was waiting for an acknowledgement, I simply nodded. “I know I do not have to tell you that it means the slaves, and your men when it is their turn to row, will need more water than we anticipated.”
He did not need to go any farther.
“Which means,” I muttered, “we’re going to need to start rationing right now.”
Cador nodded, but it was Motius who spoke next. “And, Centurion, I believe that this weather will hold for at least the next day.”
“How do you know that?” Saloninus asked.
“When you make your living on the sea, you learn to read the weather,” Motius answered simply. “And this feels like it will hold until we reach Britannia. And,” he reminded us, “please remember I do not know exactly where we will be when we sight land.”
“So what do you suggest? Half ration now?” I responded, accepting Motius’ prediction that this was what we would be facing the rest of this day and the next.
I cannot say I was altogether surprised when they both shook their heads, and it was Motius who replied flatly, “A quarter cup of water per man per watch…” He hesitated, and I understood why when he continued, “…but only when they are rowing. The men who are not rowing will have to go without until it is their turn.”
I said nothing, nor did Saloninus, Columella, or the other officers who were close enough to hear; I suppose they were waiting for me to speak first.