by Paul Howard
In the days since the battle, little was seen of the Greek. He hardly spoke and ate even less. Most of the time, he stayed below away from of the rest of us. Primus came to me and spoke of him, expressing concern about his state of mind.
“I am afraid he is very depressed,” he told me, “He will not talk to me about what is bothering him. Maybe you should you should try.”
I agreed to seek him out and have a word with him. I found him alone in the weapons room. He was sitting in the yellow light of one of his lamps. When I entered he hardly noticed me. There was something wrong. I moved in and took a seat near him. We sat for several minutes before either of us spoke.
“You have been pretty quiet since Gibraltar,” I began, “Your friends are beginning to worry about you.”
“I am sorry,” he replied, “If that is so, I am truly sorry. I do not wish to worry anyone.”
“I hear you are not eating.” I said.
“I am eating,” he said, softly, “But my appetite is not very good these days.”
“Can you talk about it?” I asked. “You may think it is not my business, but anything that affects the crew is of concern to me as captain.” He looked up at me and his expression changed
“Is it the Chinese?” I asked. “I know you were close friends.” He shook his head and looked at one the drawings in front of him.
“We all lost friends,” he replied, “But it is much more than that. At least it is for me.” I looked at him expectantly; he collected his thoughts before he continued.
“When we took this ship and began the work on the island,” he said, “I was very excited about what we were doing. It was like a challenge in physical chemistry. My mind was caught up in the project. Making these new weapons work. I knew they were destructive, I knew what they would do. But I did not think about…”
“What?” I asked. He searched for the words and his face looked more worn than I had ever seen it before.
“I did not think about what they do to people,” he said, “Not really. When we sank the first ships, I was so preoccupied with what we were doing I did not take the time to think about the consequences to the men we killed. Even at Gibraltar, I had no thought of it. Now, I can think of little else. I keep seeing those people in the water. I watch that mushroom rise out of the sea. I keep seeing it.”
“I see it too,” I said, “I always will.” He looked at me sadly.
“You did not build it,’” he answered, “I did.”
“That is not quite true,” I reminded him, “If you designed it, I enabled you, do you remember?” He smiled weakly.
“Yes, I remember,” he said, “I know that we did what we had to. We were driven by events we had no control over, but that does not keep me from feeling a sense of guilt for what has happened. If we had not approached you with our idea, you would have taken this ship to safety. Thousands would not have died.”
“It is too late for that kind of talk,” I said, “What is done is done!”
“Yes, it is done,” he retorted, “And they are all dead now. All of those men, the Septimus fleet and so many of our comrades, all gone. Perhaps we stopped a war, perhaps we have saved millions. Who knows? You cannot be sure of anything that has not happened. But I am sure of what did happen. I made sure that it did.”
“You are not alone in that,” I said, “We must live with it.” He looked at me with those clear, sharp eyes.
“I know that,” he said, “I shall live it. But I have made a decision. I shall never build any more weapons. I shall never design any more weapons. My career as an armorer is at an end. From this day forward my work is for peaceful pursuits! I make no more war. That is how I can live with it.” I rose to my feet and clasped his hand.
“As your friend,” I said, “I pray that you never have to. Let us go to my cabin and have a drink on it!” He smiled, put his arm around my shoulder, and shocked me by agreeing to join me. For the first time since our voyage began, the Greek and I got good and drunk.
The following day my closest friends and I joined on the bridge for another purpose. Rome was now behind us at last and the time had come to take back our names.
I must admit there was great curiosity among us as we began; I could not help wondering what they would be after all this time. As we watched the untamed coast go by from our vantage point, it was the Briton who decided to go first.
“I am Dariox of Londunium.” he said. Next came the Greek.
“Polymykritos of Corinth” he said quickly. Primus looked at us and paused before speaking.
“I have not heard my name spoken in over five years,” he observed, “I might well have forgotten what it is; Tharmanos-Ku”
They all turned to me as it was my turn. I smiled.
“My name is Lucillius Pollanus,” I said, “Formerly of the City of Rome.”
We had names at last.
32
JOURNEY’S END
The time had come for us to make a final decision where to land and how to settle the business of Antonia and her crew. We held a meeting on the stern and discussed it with the men. To go further south would take us to the western coast of Libya and its barbarous desert lands. To go even further would take us to places we had only heard of in stories. For although there were coastal towns along the way, the inland travels involved dangerous, fever laden trails and peoples who were not very friendly.
There were also the many interests of the crew to consider. Once we had made shore and divided our wealth, the interests and simple logistics of necessity meant that we would separate and go our ways. Hostile territory would greatly reduce our chances. At length, we decided to make for shore and find an inlet not too far from a known port town where the ship could be taken in and abandoned.
We had considered the option of burning Antonia to leave no trace of ourselves. But this idea was discarded quickly. A large fire might cause more attention than the abandoned ship ever could. We would beach her and try to conceal her, or scuttle her in deep water.
The time came four days later, when we approached the port of Sallia. An inlet to a river led to fertile lands and hopefully, a new life in peace. The sun was just moving to the horizon when we spotted the place for our purpose. We sailed her in and the thick trees closed about us until she finally ran aground.
Antonia’s journey had finally come to an end.
We retrieved our belongings and salvaged what supplies we could and made our way on foot through the coastal marshes to the solid ground near the beach. There we had one last evening together of celebration and farewell. The gold was divided evenly among us. There were now only about two hundred of us left. It was more than enough to make us all wealthy men. To do whatever we wished.
As we rested and drank we could see the glow of the city over the hills. In this faint glow we discussed our plans. Primus, as I continued to call him and Polymykritos insisted on staying with me and Calpurnia. The Briton had other plans and wanted to start a farm of his own. He invited Sarah to go with him but she was reluctant to leave Calpurnia, whom she had known since a little girl.
The two women had a long and tearful discussion and Sarah finally decided to go with Dariox. The night ended in prayers and song as the glow faded into stars. I had never seen so many. The air had a strange, foreign smell. But I liked it.
The following morning dawned with a slight chill in the air. Several of our party had already left us and we began the move to the harbor at Sallia. This proved to be a difficult task for the first part of our journey. There were no roads or trails and much of the country we had to cross was heavily grown and wild. The hike was made more treacherous by the presence of wetlands, quicksand and even serpents.
By the second day we found ourselves moving through open country, much of it very promising, until we sighted the port itself. We moved in cautiously and were greeted by a surprisingly well developed city. As we moved through the narrow streets lined with exotic sights and smells we did get some stares, but the t
ough and hardened look of our company deterred the curious.
The people spoke a language we had never heard before but there were tradesmen and others who spoke Latin and Greek. Although this port was not frequented by Rome it still had dealings with those who did. It was not difficult to find food and accommodations at a local inn, which proved comfortable. One benefit of being so far from Rome was the value of our gold, which went much farther than it would have in the Empire. In this place we were fabulously rich.
Primus and Dariox were both fearful that stories of us might spread and bring those who would try to rob or harm us. They were quite vigilant in securing our safety in the town. I traveled with an armed escort at all times whether I wanted it or not. Within a few days we began to pursue the goal of finding land nearby to make our homes. This was achieved without great difficulty as the surrounding country was very good and land was cheap.
We found a parcel that suited us within a few weeks and set out to establish our farm. As it turned out, Sarah and Calpurnia would not be separated from each other. Dariox purchased a parcel very near ours and they could see each other whenever they wished. Obtaining supplies at the port was quite convenient as it had very fine warehouses and shops. The people of this area proved to be friendly and easy to get along with.
Many of our crew wanted to accompany us and stay with me but I selected only a small number. My days as captain were over and I wished only to put it aside. In the city we found a Roman priest who agreed to marry us and shortly before departure to our new home, Calpurnia and I were formally wed. Sarah and Dariox were also joined.
I had also learned news of the Fisherman called Peter. He had met his fate in Rome and was crucified, upside-down, in the marshes of Vatican Hill. This news saddened me greatly but did not surprise me. In my dreams I had seen him hung from the great tree upside-down. This thought made me realize that it perhaps was his God who had been talking to me through him. Even though I am not particularly religious, I decided I should show my appreciation for his help in our deliverance. Only a fool is ungrateful.
I had considered making a sacrifice but that seemed somehow inappropriate. I found a quiet place and lit a lamp instead. I kneeled as he had showed us and gave thanks. The words I spoke will remain between me and Him.
In the months that followed, we built a house and barns with the help of many of our former company, who we hired as hands to help us. We dug our trenches for irrigation and the fields were planted. Mostly corn and beans. Within the first year we had turned a modest but adequate crop and our home proved to be quite comfortable. The climate in this place was mild and warm. The soil was good. We were living in peace at last.
By the beginning of the second year Calpurnia was with child. In the fall we had an even better crop than the year before and Sarah came to help with the delivery of our firstborn. A healthy baby boy, whom we named Chinus Pollanus in memory of the Chinese. He had played such a brave hand in our struggle and was sorely missed by all of us. I regret more than I can express the fact that I cannot record his name here and honor his ancestors.
For he certainly deserved it.
33
THE STRANGER
As the weeks and months continued to unfold, life brought new and unexpected surprises, as it always does. News reached us that the Persian, who had played such an important role in our escape, had died. Although he recovered from the injuries he received in the battle his health never fully returned. We formed a party to attend his funeral and buried him in the manner of his people. Although he would have liked to be buried in his home soil he was, instead, buried with all honors near our farm.
Others in our company had also passed, as is inevitable over a period of years. Some through natural causes others not so natural. There were many, at least half, of whom we heard no more after several months. Others remained to become trusted friends. Four of our fellows opened shops in the port and did quite well for themselves.
We constantly monitored the port for foreign vessels as they came in. Fearing that a Roman ship could come at any time. But none ever did. Nor did we hear any news of Antonia, buried in her clump of thick, overgrown trees. I had felt tempted to make the journey to visit her and see what remained but I just could not justify the journey away from my home.
Although I missed my father, the loss was softened by the presence of Primus, who remained my right hand man and most trusted friend. As manager and chief overseer of the farm he kept a house of his own nearby and was a pillar of support to us in all things. For the first year he lived by himself in his house and I had suggested that, he too, should take a wife. But he was set in his ways and told me that it was not so easy for one such as he. In his own country only a woman of noble birth would be suitable for such a match, and the local barbarian women would have been a disgrace to his ancestors.
I dropped the matter and did not pursue it further. But in the second year his trips to town became more frequent and extended until finally he took the cart in for a load of supplies and returned with a hooded figure at his side.
Her name was Anitha. She was a quiet and reserved woman of his age. As time passed we came to know her well and soon found that she was both wise and gentle in her ways. Chinus adored her almost as much as he did Calpurnia. She was soon an indispensable part of the family.
Dariox and Sarah also prospered and they remained lifelong friends. At harvest time we would join celebrations and throw a feast that, by the second year, had begun to gain a reputation even as far away as the town and drew many guests.
The Greek also remained with us and built a small shop to continue his experiments near our house. We expressed some concern about this at first but he assured us that he had lost interest in weapons and explosives.
One evening I asked him what he was doing as the moon was rising. He looked at it and said, “Have you ever noticed how big the sun and moon are when they are coming over the horizon?” When I responded that I had, he explained that it was due to an effect of the atmosphere known as ‘refraction’. He wondered if there was some way to repeat this effect under controlled circumstances and had been working upon the problem.
Soon he would go to the port for days and even weeks at a time, most of it spent at the glass works. When he returned one day with a cart full of earth, sand and rare elements, we knew he was up to something. The air above his shop filled with strange smoke as his forge was put into use all the time.
Little by little, the pile of discarded pieces of glass began to grow next to his shop. Many was the day we would be eating or working and hear that distinctive ‘clink’ as another experiment had failed.
Soon Calpurnia suggested that he put up a fence for the sake of safety, as Chinus was beginning to move on his own and was curious about everything he could get his hands on. After several months, the forge was put to rest and the clinking had stopped.
Every time we saw our friend after that, he had a circular piece of glass that he was polishing with the utmost care. Several of them, in fact. Soon his shop walls were covered with drawings of strange tubes and tripods of a new design.
When I inquired what it was all for, he pointed up at the sky and said: “Astronomical Research!”
So it went. By the time he had constructed his strange tube another autumn was upon us. He set it up on his new tripod and was making careful adjustments, oh so gently. When Primus and I approached to see what it was, we could tell from the way he handled it that it was of very high precision. Such that we instinctively dared not breathe upon it.
When he gave us a demonstration, he pointed it at a distant tree and bade us to look into the narrow side of the tube. When we did, the tree appeared to be near us and growing upside-down! When we asked what practical use he could make of such an invention he simply smiled and said, “Wait and see!” By this time we had been in our new home for three years and another winter was settling in.
It was at this same time that a messenger came from Sallia with news.
A foreign stranger had come to town by sea and was asking questions about Romans, strange ships and foreigners who might have arrived over the last several years.
The news hit us like a hot spike. “Had the Empire caught up with us?” we thought. Dariox was quickly summoned and we discussed the news. There was nothing to be done. If we fled it would only confirm any suspicions they had. If the Empire was looking for us, why send only one person to investigate?
One could go mad just thinking about it. We agreed that the best course was to remain calm and not get ahead of the facts. We tried to get a description of this stranger and learn anything we could from our friends in port. All they could tell us was that there was a stranger and he appeared to be a Roman of some wealth and standing.
He had asked questions about the Roman Master who had appeared some years ago. Nothing else could be learned. Whoever he was, he was just as secretive as we were.
I realized he was looking for me.
Almost two days had passed when yet another messenger came to see us. Only this time he was sent by the stranger himself. When he spoke the words cut through me and I began to fear for all of us.
“Are you Lucillius Pollanus?” he asked. “If you are, I have been sent with a message for you.”
I acknowledged that I was.
He informed me that the one who sent him would meet with me at sunset of the morrow near the palm groves outside of town. He offered no other information. I told him to tell the one who sent him that I would come to the meeting. He departed as he came.
That evening proved difficult. Dariox and Primus both were convinced that I should not go and Sarah also agreed. When I asked Calpurnia, she said the decision was mine and she would abide by it. She also instructed the hands to prepare for flight if I did not return. In spite of my objections, Primus, Polymykritos and Dariox all insisted they accompany me and nothing I said could deter them. When we departed the following afternoon, all were armed and ready for any trouble we might find. I kissed Calpurnia and Chinus good-bye and promised I would return soon. As she watched us go, I knew she had misgivings, but did she not express them.