“Make sure they don’t get feverish, or they might yet. I am going to find a place to lie down, if we’re done.” He had treated twelve men for serious injuries that morning, mostly broken bones, and a few ugly cuts that needed suturing. His capsula was out of horsehair and he had used most of his vinegar washing wounds.
Antonius walked forward to the galley area, hoping to find some food, his stomach reminding him that he had not eaten in days. The ship was riding with bare poles, tethered to sea anchors in a moderate, restless sea; the sails were haphazardly laid out on deck, sailmakers working to dry and repair them. Also laid out to dry were soaked coils of rope, bedding and clothes. Both steering oars had been cracked, the remains unshipped, lying on the deck. Rails were broken or carried away, fittings askew. The masts and yards seemed solid and the rigging in good shape, as far as Antonius could tell... nothing sagged or seemed broken. Amidships, Antonius watched four sailors working the see-saw levers of the pump over the forward hold. He looked down to see five feet of dark water sloshing back and forth where they had been chained. He shuddered a bit. I will not leave you to drown, chained in the hold of a foundering ship, Ibrahim had said. Drown they certainly would have. The pumps began to take hold and water gushed noisily overside through a leather pipe with each stroke. Behind him four more men began setting up the aft hold for de-watering.
Gaius came over with some sailors lugging sea anchors. “Good morning Antonius! How are the wounded?”
“Doin’ all right, sir. Didn’t yer get enough sea anchor duty last night?”
“We’re rigging the cargo hoist to use these as buckets along with the pumps. Your head?”
“On me shoulders, thuddin’ like a big drum. I’m goin’ forward, see if I can find some food, then get some sleep.”
By the forward galley, cooks gave Antonius some sodden bread, which quelled the grumbling in his stomach. The forward cook stove was lit for the evening meal. Ten soggy dead goats, apparently drowned in their pens, were laid out for butchering.
The overcast had continued to clear to a bright blustery sunny day over a beautiful blue sea. Only the residual heavy swells, now running just six to eight feet or so, left a hint of the previous night’s violence. Ropes were being strung across the gaping holes in the railings to prevent men from falling overboard.
Galosga had rigged his own cooking device near the galley, an odd tent-like arrangement of sticks and cloth about three feet high. He hung goat meat in long strips inside, and put in a bowl of smoldering wood, which burned with an enormous amount of smoke. “Galosga!” he cried out, “Good see thee. Make smoke, why?”
Galosga replied, but most of the words were incomprehensible. Galosga opened the tent, and pointed to the goat meat inside. Odd way to cook. It doesn’t seem to be hot enough. Galosga opened a leather pouch from around his waist, and pulled out two long, flat pieces of what seemed like greasy leather. He handed one to Antonius and put the other in his mouth. Whatever it was, it was tough like leather, but as Antonius chewed, the flavor came out. Not bad. Galosga pointed to the tent and said “Tomorrow.” Hmm, got to remember this. I wonder how long he’s had this piece of meat. Just carries it around in that pouch. Those ten goats can feed us for weeks, smoked like that.
Marcus Lucius and Marcia came on deck in mid-afternoon, ecstatic to find Antonius and Gaius resting amidship on some piles of rope.
“Antonius! Gaius! You are alive! And free! We thought you were dead! But what happened to your head, Antonius?” cried Marcia. The ugly goose-egg protruded through the close-cropped black hair on the back of his head, purple with a bloody scab.
“Someone wasted a stone throwing it at me, but I broke it with me noggin.”
“Sit down. Let me tend it for you, before it gets inflamed.”
“Here, use me capsula, I think I have some stuff left over.” He pulled out the rolled up pouch from the brass cylinder, and found some white dressings and the vial with a little vinegar remaining. Marcia dabbed at the scab with the vinegar-soaked cloth, while Antonius chewed on his last remaining piece of willow-bark. “I hate ter be losing me last piece – I mean to say, I hate to be losing my last piece of willow-bark. I hope we have some more medical supplies on board.”
Marcia tittered at his language. “That’s all right, I am beginning to understand your soldier talk better than when we first heard it.” She finished binding up his head with the last piece of linen.
“Thanks! I had almost forgotten about this bump. I was tending some folks much worse off than me.”
”You two look exhausted.”
Antonius added, “We have been up for almost two days. Thanks for the fix-up, we can chat later when we can keep our eyes open.”
Marcia smiled shyly, and helped roll up the bundle and put it back in the capsula. “No problem, get some sleep and tell us about your adventures tomorrow.”
CHAPTER 22: NEGOTIATING WITH THE DEVIL
Gaius and Antonius staggered off to find a place to sleep on the second deck, and stretched out on the wooden planks for a few hours. But near sundown, they were awakened with a surly, “Captain wants you!” In Greek. In poor Greek.
Antonius was slow to respond, then asked, “Which one, the traitor or the pirate?” The sailor aimed a kick at the soldier which Antonius evaded, rolling away but catching the man’s foot, bringing him down hard. The Roman soldier rolled on top of the sailor, grabbing him by the throat. “Don’t kick me, sailor boy, unless you’re ready to kill me! And if you think you are, better bring along a friend, because I don’t think you can do it by yourself!” In Greek. In excellent Greek.
He held the man’s throat gently, not choking, but with a firm grip on the man’s Adam’s apple. He looked the sailor in the eyes, making sure he saw total terror, then he said, “Arrgh, yer too young ter kill. Maybe termorrow,” and rolled off him, stood up and extended his hand to help the stunned sailor up. “Now which one did yer say wanted ter see us?” This time in Latin.
The sailor stammered, coming to his feet as Antonius dusted himself off, as though they had just completed a training bout in a gymnasium. “Ib...Ibrahim!”
Gaius chuckled, and in literary Latin that he was sure that the sailor could not follow, said, “You seem to have adequately demonstrated a point of courtesy, my good centurion!”
“Aye, sir, one must first obtain their undivided attention!” replied Antonius in the same style.
Ibrahim had relocated his quarters to share Demetrios’ portside stateroom. The master’s cabin, no longer a sickbay, was undergoing repairs and cleaning, for the shuttered windows had leaked heavily. There was a lot of hammering, shouts and the sound of heavy timbers being fitted as the ship’s carpenters rigged the massive replacement steering oars.
“Welcome, welcome, please dine with me tonight,” Ibrahim said in Greek, opening his arms expansively. “Captain Demetrios would enjoy your company as well, but he hopes to be under sail before midnight. His other duties keep him on deck.” He continued, apologetically. “I hope we can converse in Greek, since you both speak that language so well and my Latin is so poor.” Two couches were in place for them to dine reclining, Roman style. He seemed genuinely glad to see the two, who nevertheless maintained their reserve. “You saved my life last night. Among our people, that leaves me permanently in your debt.”
Gaius decided to come right to the point. This was a negotiating opportunity and one always wanted to put the strongest case on the table first. “To pay your debt then, you may return the ship which you wrongfully appropriated, and inform me of my cousin’s whereabouts and health. You may then leave this ship alive, in return for your having saved our lives. I shall put in favorable word of that with the Roman authorities,” said Gaius stiffly in Greek, tacitly accepting that as the conversational language.
“I expected no less from you, my noble Gaius! As to your cousin’s whereabouts and health, I cannot say for sure. I have taken steps to protect him as best I can, but Hasdrubal has betrayed both him and
me. Will you accept my hospitality? Perhaps we shall find a way in which we can endure each other, until I can set you on your trip again.”
Antonius’ face clouded and he seemed prepared to speak, perhaps unwisely, when Gaius touched his elbow. “We accept your hospitality, without accepting your right to this vessel. Perhaps we can better settle our differences on a full stomach. If you do not mind, we would prefer to eat at table, rather than reclining. That is a custom of the Roman aristocracy which makes my centurion a bit uncomfortable.” Antonius was extremely self-conscious about dining reclining, since he often spilled food on himself or the couch.
“Certainly,” said Ibrahim, taking two chairs from the bulkhead and placing them at the table spread with some flat bread, cheese, olives and a haunch of goat meat. Gaius reached for a knife and carved a slab of meat, as did Antonius and Ibrahim. There was no other silverware, so the two Romans ate as Ibrahim did, Bedouin style, wrapping the greasy dark meat into the flat bread with some cheese and olives. The two were quite hungry, having eaten very little for days.
With his hunger satisfied, Gaius began to think analytically about the next move. This was indeed a negotiating opportunity, and he began to set his priorities. The first priority was to determine what became of his cousin and the other two ships. Apparently, not everything had gone according to plan for Ibrahim. The second was to negotiate their status on board. And the third was to negotiate their ability to leave and continue their mission. Gaius did not really expect the release of the ship. It seemed best to lay out the easy objective first, and bargain down to the difficult ones last. “It seems we are both in each other’s debt. We inspected the hold where we were chained, and found that we surely would have drowned last night. We both thank you, because you surely saved our lives as we saved yours, but may I ask you why? We appear to be more of a danger to you alive than dead, and few would have given their prisoners a second thought under such circumstances.”
“You are most welcome. May I tell you a story that will clarify why I could not leave you in the hold?” asked Ibrahim.
“Please, feel free,” answered Gaius.
“When I was a young man, I shipped in the Mediterranean as a deck seaman on the Astarte, a tramp freighter. The captain was a fool who insisted on making one more shipment, sailing in November after all wise Mediterranean skippers dock their ships and pay off their crews for the winter. I was heard criticizing him, and he put me in chains into the hold.
“The ship ran into foul weather, and the hold filled rapidly with water. There is nothing worse than drowning alone in the dark, with cold water inching up your body. Fear can add enormous strength, for I pulled my chains from the bulkhead with the water chest-high. Perhaps some rotten wood helped, for the Astarte was not well cared for. I scrambled out of the hold, the chains still about my hands, and went straight to the captain’s cabin. I found him there, dead drunk, and killed him where he lay with my chains. Back on deck, the crew was in near panic with no one giving orders, the ship foundering. We could not abandon the ship, we had to fight the storm. I gave orders, sending people here and there. I was only a deck seaman, but I guess that some of what I said made sense, for the crew did what I said. One man objected, and I broke his jaw, the rest obeyed. We got her head around, and we saved the ship.”
At this point, some of the cooks brought in another slab of goat, some figs, dates, and olives, and more wine. They set it on the table and left. Ibrahim began to serve each some more meat.
Ibrahim continued. “The next day, I held a council with everyone to determine what to do next. You see, we had dumped the cargo overside to lighten the ship. I could be forgiven for killing the captain, if I had been able to bring the ship in with a full load. But coming back empty, the owners would assume that we had killed the captain and dumped the cargo to save our own lives, and would treat us as mutineers. So I decided to take the ship as the pirate they would have made me out to be. Those who wished to sail with me could do so; those who did not, could leave. They all chose to go with me, even the man whose jaw I broke. We sailed together, some of us for forty years, though many are dead today.
“That is how I came to be what I am today, and that is why I will never leave a man chained in the hold to die in a storm. Now, Antonius, you must answer me: why did you save my life last night, for I also would appear to be more dangerous to you alive?”
Antonius chewed on the meat, pondering his answer. “Well, I remembered when you came on deck to take the tiller, I was really glad you were there. You might be a murderous pirate, but you’re a good seaman, and we needed all the help we could get last night. So when you went over, all I could see was our losing the only person who could keep the ship and us alive. So I went down that rope and got you up.” Antonius chuckled and continued, “I figured I could kill you myself later if I had to. But when I got out on that line, over that sea heaving below me in the dark, and that big wave broke over us, I wished I’d left you out there!”
Ibrahim laughed. “Well, I do thank you for saving my life. You may feel free to try to kill me later, but I do hope you will change your mind!” The man had a booming, expansive laugh, not at all the harsh barbarian the two had expected.
Gaius admired the workings of Ibrahim’s mind. In other circumstances, the man would have been a successful admiral or businessman. Now here he was, a pirate, the most wanted man in the Mediterranean and Red Sea, and Gaius was enjoying the charming bastard’s company! Well, on to the next. “Can you tell me what became of my cousin and the other two ships?”
Ibrahim replied, filling their wine goblets, handing one to each. “As best I can. As you may surmise, considerable planning went into this enterprise. As you may not know, Hasdrubal, the shipping master, is my long-time partner in crime, and was essential in setting this up.”
Antonius interrupted, swearing. “That son-of-a-bitch! I knew he was involved in this!”
“How did you know that, Antonius?” asked Ibrahim, studying him with a cool smile.
“He was... strange, ever since he saw me, as though he knew me from somewhere. He was sick for two days after we met, nearly delayed the sea trials.”
Ibrahim laughed. “Sick! I’ll bet he was! And you did not recognize him?”
“Yes, but... Hecate take him! He really was with you at the Bull and Dove!” A flicker of anger went across his face, as he recognized the implications. “And you! You murdered that young Roman soldier!” Antonius rose, and was leaning across the table to grab Ibrahim by the throat when Gaius seized his arm.
“Down, Antonius!” said Gaius. “Down! Let’s hear this out!” Gaius wanted to know the whereabouts of his cousin and the other two ships, and if he had to listen to Ibrahim brag about every Roman he’d ever killed to get that information, well, then so be it.
Antonius sat down, breathing heavily.
Ibrahim continued, unflustered. He didn’t rattle easily. “He was there at the Bull and Dove, but it was he, not I, that killed that young man. Because you saw him there together with me. The young man was nothing more than a box where we left cryptic messages for our people to find us so we could meet under safe circumstances... he knew nothing more, and you inadvertently drew from him a message meant for Hasdrubal’s agent, who was with you in the fort that day, supposed to meet with us at the Bull and Dove. When you showed up with the right code phrase, ‘shipping information,’ we thought at first you were that agent. I introduced myself, and quickly determined you were not, but we had to keep talking.”
Ibrahim touched his fingertips together delicately. “Hasdrubal has grown more and more rash. Earlier in the year, around the winter solstice, he had some Romans killed on one of his boats, which was foolish, since there was no need. Your describing them as relatives of the great Trajan scared him senseless, that and some report which might eventually link the crime to him. So also without my knowledge or direction, he told his agent to kill you and the young man, and steal the report... but he could not locate you.”
The pirate chief looked almost sincerely concerned as he looked into Antonius’ eyes. “Like you, I have no compunction about killing, and like you, I have done it many times. And, as I suspect also like you, I do not enjoy it, and I do not kill when it is not necessary. Otherwise, a drunken Roman centurion would not have left the Bull and Dove alive that afternoon. Your death in that quarter would have caused far fewer problems than that of the young man in camp... what was his name? Lucius Servilius?”
“You knew him?” Antonius growled.
“Young Lucius never knew me, but I always make it a point to know my people, even if they don’t know me. My people recruited him on the docks at Ostia before the legion did. ”
Gaius interrupted, “This is all very interesting, if it is true, but why are you telling us all of this? You know we will testify against you at your trial, so if you are planning to kill us, please get on with it, or we shall have to kill you.”
“There will be no trial, for I am going far away from Roman law and justice. As for you, by all the gods of the desert, I swear I shall not kill you unless I find it necessary, which I have not done so, not yet. If you wish to kill me, feel free. But you shall find yourself in a long line, and none so far have been successful. May I continue to tell you what I know of your cousin’s whereabouts? And, please, some more wine.” He poured each man a fresh cup.
“Consider those of us who ply the pirate’s trade as the wolves of the sea. We take down the lame, the weak, the unwary, but it is not in our interest to be greedy and devour the whole flock, or we would then starve. Or arouse the shepherd to take strong action and destroy us. So I take only a percentage off the top of your trade.” Ibrahim smiled.
“Our plan was to take but one ship. Hasdrubal and the rest of the convoy were to continue the voyage with the other two, his cover as shipping master intact, to share in the insurance fees and in my generous share to him. Hasdrubal had the Europa fly a red banner, my signal. I planned to take it south to Africa along the Far Side, and offload the money to secure transportation. The officers, as you can see, were all a part of it and as for the rest of the crew... well, they just follow who leads. And who has the keys to the armory. Except for one who followed you, Antonius. You seem to have inspired him.”
The Eagle and the Dragon, a Novel of Rome and China Page 16