Our Eternal Curse I

by Simon Rumney

  “Just you?” asked Julia trying to understand where Bromidus fitted into his tale.

  “No, three others were on the makeshift raft with me. In fact it was they who had pulled me unconscious from the water two days before. Of the three men with me two were members of the officer party returning to Rome for rest and recuperation and the third was a very severely injured Bromidus. His face was completely opened down one side and as we had nothing to dress the wound, it festered and wept for days.” Looking up into Julia’s eyes Marcus added, “All four of us had survived by sheer chance you know? We were off watch and sleeping below when the attack happened. There was simply no time for us to put on the armor which dragged all of the others to a watery death.”

  Nodding to acknowledge his good fortune Julia asked, “How did Bromidus survive under such conditions?” Very aware that she was showing a little too much interest in her principal objective but Julia correctly assumed that Marcus was too drunk to be suspicious.

  Pausing thoughtfully Marcus seemed to ignore the question as he remembered which part of the galley his raft came from. “It was a huge part of the hull from just above the waterline made from solid oak. Can you believe that?” He then went onto mumble something else about the destruction of the trireme he seemed to be having trouble understanding the forces required to smash a structure that was so well manufactured.

  Annoying as these irrelevant meanderings were, Julia always resisted the temptation to speed up his storytelling just in case something interesting came out of the details. Anyway, Gavius’ money paid for wine which both loosened tongues and propped up her self-confidence so there was no real need to hurry. “Tell me about the survival of Bromidus?” repeated Julia in a gentle attempt to bring him back on her course.

  Looking up as though seeing Julia for the first time Marcus remembered where he was and smiling with a little embarrassment as he forced himself back on tack by saying, “After five days of sun baked misery one of the officers sighted a sail in the distance and began to wave frantically.”

  “What about Bromidus?” snapped Julia losing patience with the very weakness she was exploiting.

  Staring through glazed eyes Marcus looked hurt and his head wobbled a little as he asked, “What about Bromidus?”

  Julia softened her tone, “How did he survive?”

  “I don’t know, he just did, he’s as strong as an ox that one.” Then he continued along his original path, “Anyway to the centurions it was worth the risk.”

  “What was?” asked Julia losing track of his disjointed story telling.

  “Waving at the sail remember? That’s what I was talking about.”

  “Yes, of course,” replied Julia regaining her patience as she filled his goblet almost to the rim, “please go on.”

  Lowering his lips to the edge of the goblet Marcus made a sucking noise then lifting both his head and the cup he sat back. Not a drop was spilled and Julia smiled at his child-like ingenuity. Returning the nearly empty goblet to the table Marcus continued his tale about the sail on the horizon. “As patrician Romans they felt that they should die in battle with dignity not on an ocean without honor. They didn’t care if it was a Syrian ship, better dead than a slow painful death without food, water or respect they said. Bromidus and I just didn’t want to die of starvation.”

  Looking at his empty beaker Marcus hesitated. Following his lead Julia slid the jug across the table and gestured for him to moderate his own pace. As he poured Marcus added, “Coming alongside to inspect us the Captain of the vessel spoke only Greek. As educated men the officers understood what he was saying but we just sat listening without understanding a word. The conversation became heated and a few of the crew lowered themselves down to the raft to lift us aboard and much to our amazement the officers resisted. We were all so weak that any attempt at defiance was pathetic and once we lay on the deck the conversation became even angrier. One of our officers told they were pirates and the Captain is short of fighting men he will only take us if we join his crew.”

  Julia listened to his story in silent fascination. Apparently the choice for Marcus was simple as he had no wish to die and neither did Bromidus. Fighting for Rome or fighting for pirates it was all the same to them just as long as they were alive.

  “Bromidus used sign language to indicated that he was willing and so did I,” said Marcus. “We just needed water I would have killed my mother for a drink of water at that moment. Anyway as you can imagine our willingness to serve brought a smile to the Captain’s face. On the other hand, our officers were shocked and disgusted but Roman officers were always disgusted at one thing or another, it mattered not to us.

  The Captain gave a rapid string of orders and the crew grabbed the officers; the fools tried to resist but those proud Romans had the strength of children and no weapons. The pirates laughed as they dropped them over the side and the galley sailed on with none of its crew looking back. Bromidus and I alone watched them go, standing by ourselves leaning on the rail at the stern next to the steering oar and seeing them pass into the distance we made a promise to each other there and then that we would never do anything based on pride or as the officers called it ‘dignitas’. All we could think about was how pathetic those two Roman officers looked hanging onto that tiny bit of driftwood.”

  “What became of them?” asked Julia with a hint of sympathy in her voice.

  “Only the Gods know that.” Marcus paused, then thoughtfully added, “Stupid bastards.”

  Deep down, Julia was still a compassionate human being who cared about others. She could not yet understand the ruthlessness of violent men. Looking into Marcus’s eyes she felt sure that she was about to hear a tale which would provide an insight into their minds.

  “Bromidus made a very willing pirate,” continued Marcus, “and once his wound healed he proved how good a fighter he was. Always the first to leap on to another vessel for combat. He didn’t care if it was an armed war galley or an unarmed cargo vessel he just liked to kill people. This was his vocation Bromidus was the perfect pirate and over the course of two years he became a favorite with the crew. The Captain also liked Bromidus because he was losing less of his men in combat. The big man’s ability to fight was second to none; always at the center of any battle the others would try and match his ability and through his teaching they learned to fight like an army not a rabble, and when there was no fighting to be done Bromidus and I spent our time doing what pirates do best, drinking and whoring.”

  Listening to the next part of his story Julia felt twinges of deep sorrow for the women who were enslaved after being taken from conquered ships. Marcus explained that some of the women grew to accept the life and become willing servants whilst others hated what they became and found ways to kill themselves. Julia understood how they must have felt. She had been raped and maltreated herself. She knew the pain of it.

  Quite oblivious to her maudlin thoughts Marcus carried on with his slurring story as Julia wondered how awful his atrocities had been.

  “We pirates never cared because death was a part of our life,” he said. And without any show of compassion added, “They slit their wrists, hung themselves from beams below decks, one even climbed the mast and hung herself from the cross trees but we just laughed.”

  Looking up from the table even the insensitive Marcus could see that his words were having a terrible effect on Julia. She was obviously on the verge of tears and in a clumsy attempt to prevent them from falling he changed the subject. “There was one unusual woman who made a fantastic pirate,” he said. And as Julia’s face turned from sadness to interest, Marcus relaxed—he had prevented his source of free wine from leaving.

  “It was after a particularly violent assault on a civilian vessel,” he added. “We found her below decks with a load of women, ladies in waiting she called them, and by the Gods she was proud. She turned out to be the Proconsul of Mesopotamia’s wife,” said Marcus becoming animated as he added, “What a bitch she was. Her l
adies were all raped by the crew but apparently she was too good for us. One of the lads had her against the mast but the Captain stepped in.”

  Glancing up at Julia once more Marcus realized that she was on the verge of tears again and by way of changing the subject added, “I think it was her high Roman breeding that appealed to his sense of status. I suppose it could have been the potential of a significant ransom if she remained unharmed but he never did ransom her. He tried once but gave up after that. I think he grew to love her.”

  Composing herself as best she could Julia felt a strong impulse to leave the dingy tavern because she found these stories of abuse positively overwhelming but for some reason the Proconsul’s wife seemed important. Julia assumed that the uneasy feelings this woman provoked within her was what the fortune tellers at the Forum called a premonition. She felt compelled to listen so waving at the woman who served the jugs Julia indicated that she wanted another. When it arrived Marcus filled her goblet and she took a deep steadying draft by way of bracing herself for the inevitable violence which always accompanied his narrative.

  “I can’t remember why the Captain chose Bromidus as the go-between for the failed exchange but he was sent off to Antioch for a meeting with the Proconsul. We never saw him again after that you know? It wasn’t until years later I found out what happened.” Marcus then developed a very troubled look as he added, “I suppose it must have been because Bromidus spoke Latin, I could speak it too but I don’t think the Captain liked me very much.”

  Julia wondered why Marcus slipped in and out of depression so often during his drunken interrogation. For her wine was the perfect accelerant it was the fuel that allowed her to function but the very same wine caused terrible slumps in his mood. Julia could see that it was doing him harm but she needed the information so his goblet always remained full. Reaching across the table in the manner she had learned by observing other women Julia touched his hand in the way that insecure men seemed to like.

  Giving an empty smile Marcus continued by saying, “I didn’t see him again for years but when I caught up with him in Rome he told me what had happened. As it turned out Bromidus was given a private audience with the Proconsul and all seemed well until the high-born Roman explained that his wife was in the process of cutting him off from her family fortune because of his many indiscretions.”

  “What about that for bad luck?” laughed Marcus. “The only reason for his wife’s sea journey was to commence divorce proceedings and her death would be very convenient for the Proconsul.” Marcus broke down in fits of raucous laughter and the lonely men who looked across the tavern in the hope of finding something to lift their spirits simply turned back in disappointment.

  Julia instinctively closed her hood as she asked, “What became of him?”

  After regaining control of his unwarranted hysterics Marcus added, “With that the Proconsul called for his guards, clapped Bromidus in irons and shipped him back to Rome as a deserter. The Proconsul made Bromidus row his way back and for the first time in the latter’s nautical career he understood what it really meant to be a galley slave.

  “Can you imagine that?” said Marcus falling back into his dark mood. “Every stroke of the oar must have been soul destroying; the pain would have been unimaginable. All those years on deck and never a thought for the poor bastards down below and now he was one of them; apparently his body was covered in chafing sores. The constant motion of each stroke on the oar rubbed the skin from so many parts of his body that he could no longer find a comfortable position in which to row.”

  “Then there was the endless flogging,” explained Marcus who now had a hint of pride in his voice. “He received more than the others because the Proconsul didn’t want him to survive. The damp sea air would not let any of his injuries dry and they remained a constant problem. By the time Bromidus reached Rome he was very nearly dead from exhaustion.” Marcus looked deep into Julia’s eyes as he said with awe, “No other man could have survived were it not for his incredible strength he would have passed away at his oar.”

  Julia grasped just how terrible the journey would have been for Bromidus. She also realized that his feat of strength impressed her informant so she used a comforting tone to add, “He is quite a man.”

  Obviously satisfied that Julia understood the enormity of Bromidus’s ordeal Marcus continued, “On the night they came alongside in the harbor of Ostia the crew unshackled him and carried Bromidus ashore leaving him lying on the quay. The legionary in charge didn’t even bother to tie him to anything because he seemed barely alive but the big man escaped by rolling painfully to the side of the harbor and falling into the water where he clung to a small piece of driftwood with all of his remaining strength.”

  “How about that for tough?” added Marcus. “Not many men would last through that lot.”

  Empathetically nodding her agreement Julia asked him to continue because this was the bit she had come to hear and she did not want him to get sidetracked.

  “The story of his rescue from then on was one of pure good fortune,” continued Marcus. “A fisherman returning from a night offshore pulled him from the water. He didn’t care who Bromidus was because he understood the first law of the sea; save someone who is in trouble because one day you may be in trouble yourself. The fisherman’s family looked after Bromidus showing him great kindness and when his strength returned he gave his time to the fisherman by way of gratitude.”

  “In time Bromidus walked to Rome. He was a wanted man but so many are wanted men throughout the Republic that no one knows where to start looking for them.” Looking around the tavern in a melodramatic fashion Marcus added, “I myself have a price on my head but no one touches us in the Subra there would be a riot if anyone tried to come in to our patch to round us up.”

  Julia followed his eyes to see if his bravado could be heard by the wrong ears but the sad men getting soaked in the dingy tavern were too far gone to care about anyone but themselves. Looking back at Marcus, Julia watched his mood slump before her eyes. There was no apparent reason for his swing so she pushed him to finish his story before the depression got the better of him and with sadness in his voice Marcus continued with the words, “He returned to his childhood home to find that his mother and father had died during his time as a pirate. A family from Jerusalem inhabited the Insula in which he had grown up and they invited him in for wine on the day he returned to look for his parents. He killed them swiftly not for any reason to do with religion or living in his old home he simply needed money to survive and the only way he knew was the pirate way. It was not personal just the need to survive.”

  So many things had shocked Julia but the futility of these murders baffled her innocent mind as she spontaneously asked in her green fashion: “Have you killed many people yourself?” And her embarrassment was obvious as he replied,

  “What do you think? I’m a fucking pirate!” The humiliation he caused Julia was unintentional and Marcus continued with his story immediately to avoid prolonging her discomfort.

  “Bromidus killed everyone who was in authority amongst the men that lived in the Subra and he became their leader by murder. To this day his status is maintained by cunning and sheer aggression.” Marcus clearly worshiped Bromidus. “He and I are very well suited to the Subra. It’s like a pirate galley on dry land,” he laughed. Then with his shoulders collapsing Marcus finished his story by snarling the words, “I joined Bromidus as his right-hand man but look at me now? Delivering oil!”

  Julia watched in wonder as his mood stumbled through uncontrollable changes—he had been through laughter, anger, now empty sadness, and all within ten minutes. With the help of her gentle encouragement, Marcus went on by saying, “I was in the tavern on the day he made contact with our old pirate friend. It was three years into his reign of terror in the Subra; he was at his usual table when a familiar face walked in to the tavern. The face was that of our old Greek Captain and he was looking for contacts in Rome. He had been direc
ted to the tavern to meet with Bromidus and the first words from his mouth were, ‘I wondered if it was you when I heard the name.’ Nothing more, no greeting, no questions, nothing.” Then unbelievably tears welled in Marcus’s eyes as he finished with, “And he didn’t even recognize me.”

  Marcus had so many weaknesses, addictions and insecurities for Julia to exploit. She had absolutely no problem understanding how he had fallen from the favors of a strong leader such as Bromidus.

  Learning Strategy

  Julia continued to spend many hours drinking with her growing army of informants in an attempt to find out more about the Greek Captain. No one person knew everything but piecing the tiny bits of information together revealed a fascinating story. Apparently the pirates who sailed from the island of Cyprus had organized themselves and were now hunting in packs. The Greek Captain who Marcus spoke of had become the leader of a great number of galleys and working as a fleet, instead of an undisciplined bunch of disparate cutthroats, had made them incredibly successful. The pirates were now capturing so many cargo-laden galleys they didn’t know what to do with them all so the Captain’s plan was simply to sell all of the captured booty to the black-market in Rome.

  After so many conversations with Marcus, Julia felt that she understood the mind of the Captain but this aptitude for strategy showed a completely new and unexpected side. The brutish Greek cutthroat was now behaving like a visionary and that was just not his way of doing things. She surmised that there had to be someone else behind the scenes and sure enough Julia eventually found what she was looking for during a conversation with an old pirate who had served for a time as the Captain’s first mate.

  He explained in great detail that the Proconsul’s wife was the brain behind the strategy. Clitumna Livia Drusus or “that big woman” as he referred to her had grown to love the Captain and with derision in his voice he explained how they both carried on like a couple of love-struck children.