Hope of Earth

by Piers Anthony

  He kissed her face, wherever his lips would reach. “Oh, Jes, I know I can love you, if you let me. You are—everything.”

  “Don’t speak in the passion of the moment,” she said. “Such decisions are not wise at such times.” She was actually speaking for herself, because she knew that if he asked her again to marry him, she would agree, regardless of the wisdom of it. He, not she, had had the sexual climax, but it was her passion that was burgeoning. She reined in her emotion, as she would during a battle. She still needed time to consider.

  He got off her. “Then I will make one statement I know is rational,” he said. “That was the best bedding I have had since I lost my wife.” He turned away, evidently embarrassed to have made the comparison.

  “Thank you.” She could not trust herself to say more. She knew she could not rely on anything she felt at this moment. She got up, recovered her dress from the floor, pulled it on, and returned to her own room to clean up. Again.

  “I’m glad you are a woman,” the maid muttered as she passed.

  The woman had feared the trierarch would take a boy to his bed? “So am I,” Jes agreed.

  The bleeding wasn’t too bad, but she feared it could spot her uniform and betray her on the ship, so she stuffed in some cloth and hoped for the best. Then she donned her uniform, made sure she looked masculine, and went out to have breakfast.

  “My maid approves of you,” Ittai said as they ate

  “How does she know I am worthy of approval?”

  “I don’t know, but her judgment is infallible. After she critiqued Wona, I realized she was correct.”

  So that was how he had targeted Wona so accurately. A woman could see through a woman in ways a man could not.

  After that, they went without further comment to the ship. Ittai addressed his crew in the manner Admiral Phormio had recommended, and the routine cautions seemed to have good effect, because they all knew that a severe test of their skills was coming up. They had shown that they could row rings around an enemy fleet, and they hoped to do so again.

  But there was one significant difference, this time. In the prior battle, the Spartan fleet had had to travel to a particular destination, and the Athenians had been able to make an ambush of their choosing. This time they had to defend their base of Naupactus. Should the enemy advance on that city, their own fleet would have to stand and fight, regardless of the odds against it. They were pinned down. It seemed very bad to Jes. If only those other twenty Athenian ships had arrived in time! With forty good ships against seventy-seven, they might have made a good fight of it. But as it was, the enemy could bring almost four ships to bear on each Athenian ship—and this time the Spartans were fast, cleared for action, and competently commanded. They would not be giving away any easy advantages.

  However, it was not Jes’s place to brood about strategy. She just had to focus on her piping, and do the best she could. And hope that disaster was not close upon them. So she fixed instead on her feeling for Captain Ittai, but it had not yet settled into any measurable format. Her body longed to be in his embrace again, but her mind derided this as the folly of a girl without experience. A man in combat who was swept off his feet would soon be dead; similarly a woman who lost her bearings in passion would make a bad decision. Wona’s cynicism was surely well justified. Jes still needed time to get perspective. So she returned to consideration of the tactical situation of the ships.

  The Spartan fleet was there, practicing maneuvers. The ships were so numerous that from a distance they seemed to form a dense cluster. Several came out to look at the Athenians, and they were indeed fast. The description did not apply to their actual speed in the water, but rather to their type; sometimes a speedy “slow” ship was faster than a poky “fast” ship. But these were fast in both senses of the word, and perhaps almost a match for the Athenian ships.

  The enemy did not offer combat. It was merely showing off, teasing the defenders. The Athenians could not afford to attack; they would go right into disaster. So all they could do was watch and wait. There was no point in remaining out in the water; they needed to conserve their strength until the Spartan fleet made a move. So Admiral Phormio ordered his ships to land, where they beached. Now his cautioning about staying close to the ships counted; at any time there could be action, and any delay at all could be disastrous.

  For several days the Spartan fleet practiced its maneuvers. Even from the distance of the full width of the gulf, they were impressive, and more so when the Athenian fleet moved up for a closer look. There was nothing clumsy here. But the Athenian crews were becoming restive; they did not like holding off from action so long.

  Jes did not return to the trierarch’s house, though she longed to. Slowly her disciplined mind was gaining ground, reminding her of the difference in their stations, and of the enormous change in her situation an association with him would mean. As if in the distance, the sensible decision was taking shape.

  During one of the frequent pauses, Jes happened to be near Captain Ittai; perhaps it was by his design. “The admiral is determined not to be drawn into the narrow confines of the gulf for battle,” he murmured, not facing her. “But I fear he will have no choice.”

  “My fear, too,” she agreed.

  “At times I wish I had accepted your offer. Then, if I die, I would at least have had that much.”

  “Sir?”

  “Or did I forget something?”

  He was teasing her. She liked it. “Perhaps it was only a dream.”

  He nodded. “A phenomenal dream. So there is no help for it but to win this battle and survive. Then perhaps we can try reality.”

  “Yes, sir.” Once more, it was all she could utter.

  He moved on, but her sensible decision was now out of sight over the horizon. His little ways charmed her. She tried to remember Wona’s cynicism, but that, too, was far gone. Prospects for close combat she could assess; the sense or nonsense of love defeated her.

  The next day at dawn the Peloponnesian fleet moved out. It formed into four columns and turned east, into the gulf. The fastest ships were on the right wing.

  “Damn!” the helmsman swore.

  So the enemy was going for Naupactus. This was serious mischief.

  The Athenians hurriedly embarked and moved east along the north coast, while the supporting force of Messenians made a similar move along the land. The Athenians formed into a single line, stretching out their formation so that the enemy could not make a sudden lunge and cut them off, beginning an envelopment. Ittai’s ship was in the middle; it would not seek the rear until it had to.

  The Spartan fleet abruptly turned from its “line ahead” formation to “line abreast,” four ranks deep. It was a savage and brilliant maneuver, and it almost ended the battle right there. But the eleven leading ships of Phormio’s fleet stroked valiantly forward. “Play, piper!” the helmsman shouted as the boatswain lifted his palm.

  Jes played, speeding the cadence, as the enemy fleet bore down. The ships ahead were pulling clear, thanks to their speed, but it looked as if Ittai’s ship was about to be caught. A Spartan ship’s ram was coming right at it.

  “Go!” the helmsmen cried, shooting his own hand upward.

  Jes increased her cadence as rapidly as she could without outstripping the best beat the oarsmen could match evenly. The oarsmen, spooked by the threat of the ram, responded with a final surge of power. The ship pulled just clear of the enemy vessel, so close that some of the opposing oars collided.

  The boatswain brought his hand down part way. Jes slowed the cadence, allowing the oarsmen to get their stroke back. Now the ship pulled rapidly away from the enemy, because of the time it took for the Spartan ships to turn and pursue.

  Jes, facing back, could see the carnage behind. All nine ships caught by the sudden charge were driven in flight toward the land; they had no room and no time to maneuver to get into fighting position. They were quickly overrun and made useless. The Athenians dived into the water and
swam to land; any who didn’t escape were killed.

  With one exception: the Spartans managed to encircle and capture one ship with its crew intact. The Athenians on that one did not dare move, lest they be summarily slaughtered; enemy bowmen had them completely covered.

  The Peloponnesians wasted no time; they tied ropes and started towing away the empty ships. The one captured entire they required to row itself where they directed; only by obeying could its crew hope to survive. The spoils of war were already being taken.

  But the battle was not yet done. The Messenian land force arrived and went immediately into action. The Messenians hated the Spartans, and were eager for battle. They charged into the sea in full armor, overtaking several of the captured ships as they were being towed, and threatening the enemy crews. There were far more Messenians than Spartans, but the Messenians could not effectively reach the ships in deeper water. They did board several of the towed ships, and recaptured them in fierce fighting on the decks. They also recovered the ship with the full crew, a significant prize. Jes had not before fully appreciated the importance of land support; she had thought it was only to assist the crews as they took their meal and comfort breaks. Not so!

  Meanwhile she continued playing the Straight Ahead tune. They were the last in a line of eleven ships, now being closely pursued by twenty fast Peloponnesian ships. It was apparent that the enemy ships were not quite as fast as the Athenian ships, not because of any inferiority of design, but because their crews were not as well honed. The ten ships before Ittai’s were pulling slowly away, reaching the harbor at Naupactus in time to range themselves in the “Line Abreast by the Temple of Apollo” formation, ready for defensive action. Their bows faced seaward as they waited for the onslaught.

  All except Ittai’s ship. The boatswain was signaling with his palm down, bidding Jes to slow the cadence. She did, cautiously, and now the ship lost distance ahead of the pursuit. The enemy fleet’ believing that it could catch the laggard, was putting forth all due effort, and the twenty ships were spreading out as the faster crews outpaced their neighbors. Soon the leaders would flank Ittai’s ship and attack it from either side with bow and spear.

  What was the captain thinking of? She remembered Admiral Phormio’s directive that Ittai perform rearguard action, and this he was doing—but the force behind was overwhelmingly greater, and would soon destroy the single ship. What was to be gained by offering up this sacrifice?

  Well, maybe it wasn’t entirely futile, because one Leucadian trieres was now significantly outpacing the others. It might be possible to fight it alone, before the others caught up. Still, even if they won, it was only one ship, with many more rapidly closing. Much more was needed, if there was to be any chance to save Naupactus.

  Their ship reached the harbor barely ahead of the Leucadian. Jes could hear the Peloponnesians singing the paean for the final attack. Normally the crews were silent; noise was the mark of an ill-disciplined crew. But this was the exception; they were working themselves up for the final slaughter.

  Ittai’s ship passed a merchant ship that was anchored in deep water, as such vessels normally were. Such noncombatants were normally ignored in battle; they were part of the booty, not capable of fighting.

  But as they passed it, the boatswain gave the Hard Right Turn signal. Surprised, Jes played it, and the oarsmen obeyed automatically. The ship made an exceedingly tight turn, going behind the merchanter, as if hiding. There was laughter from the pursuing ship.

  But there was no Slow Cadence signal. What were they doing? The ship continued its turn, looping entirely around the merchant without slowing more than it had to to make the turn.

  And suddenly there was the pursuing ship—exposed in profile. The boatswain gave the Straight Ahead signal, followed immediately by the Ram signal. Jes played the tunes, and the oarsmen evened their strokes and propelled the ship ahead. The Leucadians were unable to move out of the way; they could only watch in amazed dismay as their doom closed on them.

  Just before the strike, the boatswain signaled Lift Oars. Jes played the tune, and the ship completed the maneuver on inertia. They all braced for the impact.

  It came. Jes would have been thrown from her seat, if she had not braced herself. The collision holed the enemy ship, immediately disabling it. Ittai’s crew cheered.

  Then the Withdraw signal. Jes played, and the oarsmen reversed their stroke and hauled the ram back out of the hole, leaving the other ship floundering and filling with water. It would not sink, but it was useless for combat. The crew could not even desert it, because this was Athenian water, and any swimmers would be easy targets. So they just sat and waited in evident despair. How quickly then-fortune had reversed!

  The following Peloponnesian ships were similarly dismayed. Their line had become ragged in the close pursuit. So their leading ships backed their oars and halted, waiting for more ships to catch up. However, some did not halt in time, and ran aground in the unfamiliar harbor. Their enthusiasm for pursuit had blinded them to common sense.

  Now Phormio made a single shout. The ten remaining ships of the Athenian fleet surged forward in attack. The distance was small; in a moment they were on the stalled enemies. The Spartans were in a poor position to defend themselves. The integrity of their fleet had been lost, and they had little room to maneuver. They had foolishly surrendered their momentum, close to the Athenian line. Because of all the mistakes they had made, and their state of disorder, the advantage of their superior numbers had been forfeited.

  Ittai’s ship turned and rejoined the Athenian formation. It was no longer the laggard. Jes played the Forward tune, and they closed on the enemy in proper style. She felt exhilarated by the elixir of battle, not at all afraid. This was glorious!

  The Peloponnesians fought only briefly, before turning to flee. That was yet another mistake on their part. The Athenians had easy pickings, choosing their targets. They went after the easiest ones and let the others go. Their discipline, maneuverability, tactics, and courage in adversity had enabled them to win the day despite the enormous odds against them.

  All that remained was mopping up. Their ship went after one of the grounded ships, taking advantage of its inability to maneuver. Troops on the ground were wading out to capture it, but it seemed about to free itself and escape.

  Instead of ramming a ship they could capture and salvage, they cut off its escape and crowded against it from the sea side. They grappled it, holding it firm. That prevented it from avoiding the Messenians, who came on, waving their spears and shouting.

  But the ship did not surrender quietly. Their hoplites made a desperate lunge, leaping aboard Ittai’s craft and engaging its hoplites. For a moment there was fierce fighting.

  An Athenian hoplite fell in front of Jes, wounded in the leg. The enemy hoplite stood over him, raising his spear for the finishing thrust.

  Jes acted without thinking. She drew her knife and hurled it at the enemy soldier’s face. The blade penetrated his left eye. He screamed and fell backward off the ship.

  But another was coming. Jes dived for the Athenian hoplite’s shield. She hauled it up and held it over the man’s body, protecting him from further injury.

  Then Kettle appeared. He intercepted the enemy hoplite and dispatched him with a single thrust of his spear.

  The Messenians arrived, and the remaining crew of the captured ship surrendered rather than be slaughtered. The fight was over.

  The commander of the hoplites turned to Jes. “You have lost your knife,” he said. “Take mine.” He drew his dagger and offered the hilt to her.

  She accepted it, realizing that by this token he had finally accepted her position on the ship. He must have seen her defend the wounded soldier.

  There was a pause while the other ship was secured. Jes looked around—and saw that Captain Ittai was down. The helmsman and boatswain were attending to him, while the bowmen looked crestfallen; they had not succeeded in protecting him. Yet how could they? He had been struc
k by an arrow.

  Something tore apart within her breast. Before she knew it, Jes was there, throwing herself down by the captain even as the helmsman pulled out the arrow in his shoulder. “Oh my love, don’t die! Don’t die!” she cried, her tears flowing. She kissed his pale, still face. “I love you! Don’t die!”

  Ittai’s eyes opened. “Does this mean you will marry me?” he asked with a weak smile.

  “Yes! Yes!” All her doubts had dissipated. She no longer cared where or how she lived, as long as it was with him. He was an honorable, valorous, decent man, and fully worthy of love.

  “Good.” His eyes closed, and he sank back into unconsciousness.

  “It is a flesh wound, painful but not lethal,” the helmsman said. “We will take care of him.” Indeed, he held a bandage in his hands.

  Then Jes realized where she was. She looked up at the boatswain and bowmen, all of whom were staring. “It’s a woman!” one of the bowmen said.

  “A woman!” the nearest oarsman echoed, amazed. “Bad luck!”

  She had given herself away. Now she was in trouble.

  The helmsman stood up straight. “On the ship, the captain makes the rules. I serve the captain.”

  “We all serve the trierarch,” the boatswain said, and the four bowmen nodded agreement. But the oarsmen were scowling rebelliously.

  Kettle was close. “I see no woman,” he said. “I see our pipeman, who has served the ship well in two hard battles’.” He glared at the thranites, his hand on his blood-soiled spear. “And will continue to serve. As will the rest of us.”

  The oarsmen looked away, not daring to challenge him.

  The helmsman smiled. “Pipeman, return to your station.”

  Jes got up and went back to her chair. The boatswain gave her a signal, and she began to play her flute. The oarsmen, encouraged by the glares of the hoplites, bent to then-task. The ship moved out.

  The Athenians captured six enemy ships, and recovered all of their own. This battle, like others, showed the reasons for the Athenian command of the Greek seas: Their crews were highly disciplined and competent, and their captains refused to accept the logic of numbers or a tactically unfavorable situation. No ship panicked. They retreated when they had to, but not in disarray, and reacted quickly and decisively to take advantage of a sudden change of fortune. Even when they lost almost half their force, they did not give up. Their tactical professionalism was decisive. They wielded the ram with a deadly precision that was beyond that of the opposing forces.