A Captain of Thebes

by Mark G McLaughlin

  “Belay that order!” shouted the captain, who grabbed the governor by his collar and shoved him up against the side. “Listen to me, Governor,” he said with an angry, threatening scowl, “another order like that and the men will mutiny and dump you over the side – and maybe me along with it,” he added with a whisper. “We need every one of these men to give their all if we are to get out of here alive. And they are not going to do that if we start tossing their friends and comrades into the drink!”

  No sooner had the captain said his piece than another rock struck the ship, badly injuring an oarsmen.

  “You!” the captain shouted at one of the rowers who had been made extraneous, “help that man. And you!” he added as he looked at another of the unemployed rowers, “take his post. And row, damn, you, row! Row for your lives!”

  96

  The Island of Cos

  Reunited like they knew they would

  Barsine's eyes never strayed as Abibaal's little scout ship struggled to close the distance with the admiral's great flagship. She did not hear any sound but that of the oars on the water. Not even the crash of rocks on wooden planks, the roar of fire on linen sails, or the screams of terror from refugees and the shouts of sailors could break through her concentration. It was not that she was oblivious to what was going on all about her, but only that she had found a quiet place amidst the maelstrom that was hers -and hers alone.

  Abibaal, however, could not afford such a royal luxury. He had a ship to sail and lives to save. He had to be aware of every splash, crack, roar, scream, and shout – and use them as he continually recalculated the chances of getting out of this man-made storm alive. And storm it was, for Alexander's siege weapons had found their range.

  Abibaal danced his ship through the splashes and swung a bit to port or starboard to avoid slower vessels – or get out of the way of larger ones, none of whom would change course for his small scout vessel. Many of the captains, it seemed, had forgotten the basic laws of the sea about right of way, such was the panic that was filling sails and driving rowers to the breaking point.

  Barsine was actually starting to smile, to let go some of the tension, when she noticed they were no longer on a course toward the flagship, but were instead turning about – back towards the harbor and the Royal Citadel.

  “Captain! Captain!” she called out, making her way with difficulty from the prow back aft, struggling to keep her feet on the narrow way between the rowing benches. “Why are we turning back?”

  “That's why!” said Abibaal as he pointed toward the dock they had shoved off from only a few minutes before. “It's the governor's ship, it's foundering, and they're signaling for help!”

  True enough, the great lumbering quadrireme was indeed foundering. She had been struck several times by large rocks and fire pots. The impact of the stones had rocked the big vessel, causing some of her cargo to shift. Already struggling and far too low in the water for her captain's comfort, that shift was causing her to list. As she did, the quadrireme took on more and more water, thus worsening her list. Fires had broken out in several places, and between fighting the flames, battling the list and dodging the incoming stones, rocks, and fire ports, her captain and crew were hard pressed to keep her afloat, let alone row her out of range of the Macedonian artillery.

  Some aboard were already jumping ship. More and more seemed resigned to taking their chances ashore. Most were swimming out into the harbor, calling out and waving as best they could for help. Then came a great cracking noise, as if someone had put their foot through a thin wooden screen. It came from the quadrireme – her back was cracked and she was breaking up. The weight of her cargo of gold, silver, jewels, and other valuables Orontobates had ordered stored aboard, proved too much for the great ship, especially once enemy rocks and stones began to punch holes in her hull. As the ship began to sink beneath the harbor waves, she made a great sucking sound, pulling those in the water near her down to a watery grave. Even with the princess in his charge, Abibaal could not ignore the pleas of those in the water. What sailor could?

  There was not much room aboard the tiny scout vessel, as she was built for speed, not for battle or for carrying cargo or ferrying passengers, but room could be made for a dozen or even a score more souls. He could also throw out a line for others to cling to until Abibaal could swing about and catch up with the big ships. As infuriated as she was about yet another delay in reuniting with her husband, the princess was, after all, human. She left it to the sailors to bring the survivors of the quadrireme aboard. She did what little she could to help settle and comfort the weary, soaking wet, and wretched refugees, one of whom looked uncomfortably familiar.

  “Orontobates?” Barsine part asked, part exclaimed as she wrapped a cloak around the shoulders of one particularly distraught looking survivor. The man turned his head slowly to look up at her, and she knew that it was indeed the satrap of Caria, governor of Halicarnassus and richest man in Asia Minor – or at least he had been. His kingdom lost, his city aflame, and his wealth at the bottom of the harbor, Orontobates had lost everything. What he had sought to save was now buried beneath the wreckage of the once-proud quadrireme; his vast wealth entombed with the sailors whose lives were lost as much to his refusal to part with his treasure as to the boulders and flaming pots thrown by the Macedonian artillery.

  Something in Barsine took pleasure at seeing the proud, haughty governor brought low. Yet she did not laugh at or taunt him, or even say how it was his own greed that brought him to such a low point. She wanted to and she could have – but Barsine didn't. He was such a pathetic sight that a sense of pity pushed all other emotions to the side. And besides, his defeat was hers as well, for it was her empire that had lost a vital city, her royal family whose prestige was diminished, and her husband who would bear the ultimate responsibility for this defeat. Like it or not, Barsine and the governor were – quite literally – in the same boat, a boat which was now struggling to turn about to bring her, the governor, and all aboard to safety.

  The extra weight of rescued survivors and the drag from the score of men holding on to the tow line in the water that she trailed made the oarsmen's job much, much harder. But once Abibaal had fought his ship far enough from shore to be out of missile range, other vessels turned about to rescue the men in the water. The admiral had also signaled to the rag tag fleet of men-of-war and merchant vessels to slow their speed and await orders. He would be damned if his ships would dribble into Cos like flotsam washing in with the tide; they would instead sail in as a fleet. He knew what had been lost, yet also was proud of having fought the good fight. The navy had saved the lives of many citizens and soldiers of the empire – not least of them Memnon, the emperor's friend and general. And so it was, with order and discipline and honor intact, that the Persian Navy's Mediterranean squadron entered the great harbor of the island of Cos as a fleet, with banners waving, colors flying, and drums beating out the rhythm for the rowers.

  As the admiral's ship let down its anchor, Abibaal's scout ship pulled up alongside, its sailors calling for the warship to let down a rope ladder. Of all of the people whom the admiral might expect to climb up that ladder, few could have been more of a surprise to him than Barsine. There could be no reason in the world for a princess of the blood to be here, and now, let alone standing upon his deck in dirty, torn, bloodied, and dripping clothing, and those of a soldier, no less. It was only when Memnon, weakened and weary from his wounds as he was, managed to make his way out from the cabin to stand next to him, that the admiral understood why the princess would be here.

  “Barsine?” came the voice of Memnon from beside him. The princess somehow heard his trembling voice, and turned to look at her husband. She gave him a smile that shone as brightly as if they were alone, at home, warm, and safe, and dressed in their finest clothes. No matter that they were amongst a crowd of sailors, soldiers, and half-drowned refugees, cold, wet, and dirty aboard a warship a the outer edge of a dying empire. Neither co
uld recall nor imagine ever having been more glad to see the other.

  Dimitrios and his brother had come up the ladder behind Barsine, then had reached back down to help Halime and Ari ascend as well. The two Greeks and others had been rescued from the island at Barsine's insistence. Captain Abibaal followed, with Orontobates close behind, Burzasp providing the governor with a shoulder to lean upon. Admiral Autophradates could not believe his eyes at the sight of them, but there they were. A princess, a general, a governor, a mercenary captain, and a physician, plus assorted hangers on, crowded and dripped upon his deck. The admiral stood there, hands upon his hips, his head shaking back and forth in disbelief. As Abibaal came forward and offered a weary yet still proper salute, the admiral gave him a perplexed look and then said, rather quietly, “Captain, you've got some explaining to do.”

  Epilogue: Cos

  An Island off the Western Coast of Asia Minor

  Year Three of the Reign of Alexander of Macedonia

  97

  The Island of Cos

  Promises and Plans

  Memnon had three reactions when he saw Barsine. The first was surprise, the second was joy, and the third was fury. A fury he directed at Dimitrios. A fury he unleashed even while holding the princess in his arms, on the deck of a warship.

  “Captain!” he growled with all of the anger his wounds and weariness would allow, “I sent you on a mission to see my wife safely east. You gave me your word that you would do so. Instead, not only have you disobeyed your orders and broken your word, you have put her at risk by bringing her into a war zone! Guards!” he shouted over his shoulder, nearly doubling up coughing as he spoke – and would have had not the princess held him up. “Guards! Arrest this man!”

  Dimitrios's heart sank deep in his chest. It was not as if he did not know that Memnon might react in this manner, but that he had hoped it would at least be tempered by the sight of his wife, safe and sound before him.

  “Stop!” shouted the princess in that icy voice of command that comes natural only to generals and those of royal blood. This was the kind of voice that can bring a charging elephant to its knees or cause young officers to fear that their career, and possibly their very life, is about to end.

  “Nobody is going to be arrested here today, and certainly not this brave man,” said the princess haughtily, without any trace of sentimentality in her speech. “He and his brother, and their friends, did only what I asked – no, what I commanded – them to do! They did try to talk me out of it, as you, my dear husband, would have wanted them to do, but that is as far as they could come to obeying your orders. To obey you, moreover, they would have had to disobey me and, quite frankly, dear husband,” she added with a taunting smile, “I outrank you. There are only two men whose orders I cannot override, and as you are neither my father nor my king, my word takes precedence. Far from punishing them, you should reward them...and on second thought, leave that to me. After all,” she continued, now looking at him, stroking his hair in as gentle a manner as possible, “I can shower them with favors far greater than anything you can offer.”

  Memnon tried to object, but knew better than to argue with Barsine. He may be her husband, but theirs was not the typical relationship. She did, indeed, outrank him by virtue of her royal blood, and as she had told him time and time again, “nobody puts a princess in the corner.” Such was her way of letting him and others know that a princess does what a princess wants to do...especially if her name is Barsine.

  “Captain,” she said, turning her head to look at Dimitrios while still holding her husband's hand in one of hers, and pointing to the deck with the other, “kneel.”

  As Dimitrios did so, Klemes, Ari, Halime, and Hassan gathered behind him. Orontobates, for his part, couldn't care less, and just sat slumped and dripping on a rowing bench nearby and called for wine, dry clothes – and more wine.

  The princess let go of Memnon's hand, and with both hands unclasped from around her neck a thin gold chain from which dangled a tiny red jewel. She then bent down, placed it around Dimitrios' neck, clasped it shut. As she stood back up she said “Accept this small token of my gratitude. I give it to you in thanks as a mother and as a wife for seeing me safe through the lands of my enemies and for reuniting me with the father of my children and my husband. And,” she continued, while removing a gold band from one of her fingers, “accept this ring, by which I thank and honor you for your service to the royal family. It bears my personal crest, and inside has an inscription. Show this ring to any officer of the empire, and he will give you what you ask, as if the order came from my lips. And,” she continued, “should this ring ever be cut from your finger, lost, or stolen, remember the words inscribed on the inside. If spoken along with my name, to any one of high rank or any member of the royal family, they will help you. Now, my dear Captain, you may rise.”

  Dimitrios, overcome by the receipt of such unexpected honors, rose as commanded. The princess then embraced him gently and lightly, and put her cheek up against his, at which point he began to blush; a blush that cooled and paled when Barsine whispered into his ear.

  “You are mine, now, Captain. You belong to me, and only to me.”

  The princess let go, stepped back and, looking very regal, gave him a nod and a thin, wry smile; a smile that chilled Dimitrios to his very core.

  By evening, most of the ships in the fleet had docked or beached, and their crews and passengers come ashore. A rich, cosmopolitan port and center of learning though it was, even Cos struggled to feed, shelter, and offer care for such a sudden wave of humanity. Its harbor could not accommodate so many great ships at once, but at least there were many experienced dock workers, shipwrights, and others upon whom the harbor master could call to aid in the process. The city's shopkeepers and merchants were more than happy to provide food, drink, clothing – and more drink to this unexpected but most welcome influx of customers. They did so at a much higher price than normal; but those who could not pay were still fed, their way paid for with script handed out by a small army of imperial bureaucrats. The empire, as always, took care of its own.

  In further acknowledgment of their services to Barsine, the princess insisted that Dimitrios, Halime, and others who had accompanied her so far, be quartered in the governor's palace. She and Memnon, along with Admiral Autophradates, took up residence there, as did Orontobates, who demanded such as his due. His sense of entitlement would not allow him to even think of seeking less prestigious accommodations.

  Klemes, however, did not join them. Cos was where he had studied medicine. He sought out one of his old teachers and offered his services as a healer, which, with so many wounded, injured and exhausted soldiers, sailors, and refugees was sorely needed. Even in a city famed for its medical schools, there were just not enough physicians, healers, or other trained personnel to meet the needs of those brought ashore by the fleet.

  As the princess had taken a particular liking to Halime, she was invited to stay with her as a lady in waiting, at least for the time being. “I like you, Halime,” said the princess when the two were alone in her chambers. “You remind me of...well...me...or at least the me I once was before I was married off to seal a partnership with Mentor's faction. Oh, I did love Memnon's brother, but ours was still primarily a political marriage, as women of my rank are bred for. But as much as I loved Mentor and do love Memnon, part of me longs to be you – to be able to ride, and hunt, and be carefree!”

  Halime let out a little sigh, shook her head and replied: “Oh, if only my life were such – but it is not now and never was. When I was younger, I helped my father and brothers on our ranch – raising, caring for, chasing down, and taming horses. I had little time for the pleasures of riding and hunting – except when the time came to find meat for the table. Then, when times were hard, well, my father was forced to leave me as collateral for his debts – although he did not do so without making some conditions, which meant I was a serving girl but not a slave. But the longer I worked for
the man he sent me to, the more the lines between the two became blurred. Had it not been for Dimitrios and Ari, I would most certainly be warming the bed of that man, or his sons, or his friends, or maybe all of them. Princess,” she added, “trust me, you would never, ever wish to be me.”

  Halime's candor shocked the princess – but also touched her heart. “Forgive me,” said Barsine as she drew the girl closer, “I did not know. Those of us who live a life of privilege forget – if we ever knew – what so many of our subjects have to go through just to stay alive. I have known pain and heartbreak, but I was always my own person.”

  “And in that you are fortunate – and blessed,” replied Halime. “Would that all of us were so lucky.”

  Barsine hugged her tightly, then slowly let go and leaned back. “Halime, I am not sure what is next in store for me, but I can promise it will not be lazing about in silks on soft pillows, sipping on iced wines. I would be very grateful if you would accompany me when I leave Cos, wherever it is that I go. Having another woman about in whom I could confide – and also trust in a fight, should it come to that – well, it would be a great comfort to me. I would, of course, see that your family's debts are made good and that you are no longer anyone's property but your own.”