by Renee Ryan
Shame filled Ada’s eyes, lodging in her throat. She was spoiled as her sisters oft claimed. Here she was bemoaning her fate, when these people were truly troubled, lost at sea. The heat of Nicolaus’s gaze drew her attention, and the harsh lines reappeared. She straightened her posture. Lifting her chin, she moved from the window and descended the ladder. Careful not to bump any of the seafarers, she made her way toward Nicolaus’s man and was pleased to discover if she kept her knees slightly bent she could maneuver the deck with ease.
She laid her hand on Brison’s shoulder. He glanced at her, his eyes narrowed.
“I would help, if it pleases you?”
Brison shifted his gaze to his brother. It irritated her a little that he needed Nicolaus’s permission, that she needed his permission, to help.
“Are you well?” The concern in Nicolaus’s voice curled around her insides, leaving her feeling weak, but she would not allow it to discourage her. “I will not have you tumbling into the water.”
Ada stiffened her spine and swallowed the bile rising in her throat. Of course he would think of nothing but the cost of losing her. What did she expect after knowing him a short amount of time? That his kindness toward her meant he cared for her as a person? His words proved otherwise, and oddly the sting in her chest hurt much worse than the pebbles her sisters were wont to toss at her. “Well enough.”
The corners of his mouth slid upward. Something squeezed tight in her chest, trapping the air in her lungs. Had there been a more confusing man to ever cross her path?
Never. They were either outwardly cruel or showed false kindness in order to gain an appropriate trade with her father. This man seemed to approve of her actions. His words were both kind and biting. She’d oft longed for the approval of someone, anyone outside of her mother, and most important from her siblings as they had seemed to share the same lot as her. But for some reason, his smile meant more than she expected. It meant more than the need to go home.
A home where a strong arm ruled and kindness was absent. A home where it was near impossible to be accepted for the Hebrew woman she was. A home where there were few smiles unless she was being laughed at by her sisters.
*
An intense amount of joy built within his chest, much like it had the first time he had hit the mark with his arrow when he was no more than a boy. Ada’s courage, especially in the midst of a turbulent sea and stomach, gave him hope, and yet made him pause. If his crew had had half the courage of this slip of a woman, the seafarers never would have boarded his ship and stolen his freedom and the greatest treasure he’d ever had care of, his sister. If his crew had had Ada’s bravery, they never would have been taken captive by David’s men.
He should not think so harshly of them. He could not fathom the burden his crew had carried with them. His own burden had been heavy during his captivity, but only because he did not know what sort of fate his dear sister had met. His brother Jasen had told him of his crew’s determination and of their disappointment when their search gained them nothing. Of course, his crew had not suspected David of such a deception. No matter Nicolaus’s assurances that there had been naught they could have done to save him and Desma, he could still see the wary looks on their faces. It was as if they no longer trusted him as their captain and perhaps they shouldn’t.
Xandros danced across the beams connecting the boats as if he were a butterfly flitting from flower to flower with no cares in the world. His second-in-command leaped to the deck. “Their boat is worse than we first imagined, splintered in various places from a battering ram. They’re carrying the weight of the sea. ’Tis why they’re sitting so low.”
Nicolaus pressed his lips together and pulled air in through his nose. “What is it you are not telling me?”
“You’ve allowed the woman out, I see.” Xandros nodded toward Ada. Nicolaus’s gaze followed. She knelt in front of two small children huddled in the corner by themselves and offered them water. “They have nothing but old women and crippled men. The one who acted as helm is a boy of no more than six or seven summers. A fine job he did, but he’s weakened by their days at sea with no sustenance.”
Nicolaus took in the haggard features of the child. The dark circles beneath his eyes and sunken cheeks reminded him of the young boys who’d been enslaved with him. Many of them had been worked until they fell to their deaths.
“What is it you suggest, Xandros?” Although they’d fewer rowers by half the norm, allowing them more room to store merchandise, there was little space left. The lower portions had been filled with goods from all over the Great Sea and bringing these people on board would only cause them problems if they did encounter thieves. It would also slow him down and cost him time. Time he did not possess. The sooner he arrived at his father’s house the easier he would breathe knowing Ada would no longer be at risk, especially since they were not heavily guarded.
“If they continue as they have been they’ll only meet their deaths.”
“Are there no able-bodied men among them?”
The look in his friend’s eyes worried him. What had happened to these people? He dared not ask, yet evidence poked out from all angles, telling him the answer. These people had met with the worst of seafarers. A shout of alarm from one of his men had Nicolaus drawing his dagger from its sheath until he noticed his man carrying a small bundle, and another of his men cradling a small, elderly woman in his arms. His men carried them toward the others and Ada with her golden tresses hanging over her shoulder rushed to attend them. “From what I can gather they left their island when the mountain caught fire.”
Such an occurrence often happened. Many believed it was the gods’ way of punishing the people for not honoring them correctly. Something Nicolaus had long ago given up on. The gods had paid little heed to him when he’d been captured, and he’d never strayed from the rituals to deserve their anger. Not until recently. He would no longer be a pawn in their games. If he denied their existence, they could not abuse their powers over him. “That does not explain where their men have gone.”
“Ay, there were few to begin with. They rushed to the boats in order to save themselves. Many were left behind for there was no room left as I have seen with my own eyes. They had planned to return once the fire disappeared. Instead, thieves came upon them and took one of their ships and all strong enough to labor.”
Nicolaus clenched his teeth together and forced his eyes to remain open. It was as he thought. “They fought well, it seems.”
“Ay, as the nature of their vessel proves. It is unfortunate that those who fought are either dead or now captives,” Xandros said.
Nicolaus’s gut contorted. He’d been victim to such thieves. Their cruelty knew no end. He scanned the waters in search of a threat. However, the waves rose too high, and the rain from the storm kept all else shrouded in mist.
A heavy hand clasped his shoulder. “Do not fret so much, my friend. They’ve been drifting for days.”
Another of his crew carried an old man whose eyes seemed not to see. Perhaps, it was fear that left him with a blank stare. “It is a mercy these were left alive.”
“Ay, a mercy indeed. They’ve been left to fend for themselves with no one to care for them.”
Nicolaus clenched his teeth together. “Will their vessel make it to Joppa for repairs?”
“There is little left to repair.”
“Will it make it to Joppa?” There was little room for the rest of the people to board his vessel. He didn’t relish throwing merchandise overboard but would if need be.
Xandros must have read his thoughts. He nodded his head, and said, “Are you thinking of purchasing another boat and bringing them to our village?”
Nicolaus glanced at his second. “I cannot very well leave them at Joppa if they do not wish to stay. They’ve nowhere to go. No men to support the needs of these people. Our island is large and prosperous. My father has never rejected those in need and would not do so now.”
He had not
rejected Nicolaus when he’d arrived after months of captivity a weak and broken vessel with the shame of losing his sister bearing down on his shoulders.
“In that you are correct.”
“And I do not think any of the ports we’ll stop at for provisions will accept them.”
Xandros heaved in a breath. “What of the challenge? If you determine to take them with us, we will not move with the swiftness needed to win. We could be days behind Jasen’s arrival. And what of their provisions? The cost will be no meager sum, my friend.”
Nicolaus bowed his head and closed his eyes. He risked losing. It did not matter if he lost his ship and all the merchandise he’d acquired during the voyage, but if he lost the race he risked the means to move away from his family and the shame of having disappointed his father. He’d lose the ability to search for his sister without his father’s constant watchful eye. And what of Ada? “This I know. What choice do I have? I cannot allow them to continue to a fate unknown.”
“There is no other choice, my friend.” Xandros clapped him on the back. “The sacrifice is much, one not many would give up. Your uncle would be proud.”
Yes, Oceanus would be proud, but what of his father? Would he be proud as well, or would Nicolaus once again see disappointment crinkling the corners of his eyes?
“You have yet to answer my question, Xandros. Will the vessel make it to Joppa?”
White teeth showed through Xandros’s thick beard. His eyes twinkled with mischief. “It is unlikely. However, with me at the command, it has a chance, as slight as it may be. In the event it does not make it, I have no doubt, you will champion us.”
“Order the men to move enough water and cakes of bread for those left on board before we break planks.”
“I fear that may deplete our resources.”
Nicolaus tugged on his beard, and then nodded. “Take what you need. We’ve rationed before. Let us port at Joppa and renew our provisions.”
An alarm from Brison drew his attention. Nicolaus left Xandros and climbed onto the command post. The sea rose on the horizon, rushing toward them. At their current angle the wave would roll them. “Break the planks, now!”
Xandros ran across to the other ship as the men removed the planks bridging the vessels. If they had moved all the women and children there would be no need to save the other boat, but they’d only transferred a few. “Euclid!” he called to his helmsman. “Turn the ship toward the south until we are facing the wave. Raise the anchors.”
The cry of an infant reminded him that Ada, along with several of the women and children, remained on the deck. If the boat rolled… “Brison, move them all below, huddle them in the center around the mast. Go with haste.”
He tied a rope around his waist as did his two armed warriors, Haemon and Argos, standing guard on either side of the command post’s platform. Nicolaus glanced at the other boat. A few of his men remained with Xandros.
Nicolaus could only hope his friend’s natural ability with the sea would keep them well. “Tell the rowers to push forward. We must get in front of the other boat in order to take the brunt of the wave.” He clenched his teeth together knowing he risked the lives on his vessel to protect those on the weaker, but it was his duty. They were all under his protection. Nicolaus glanced at the other boat and breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of a few oars maneuvering it backward in order to fall in line behind him. Nicolaus wouldn’t question the appearance of the oars or the providence that had left several of his men on the other boat. He was thankful that there was hope for the other ship’s survival, if it held together against the wave.
Even with the cry of the babe and the soft cooing of Ada’s voice as Brison ushered her toward the back of the ship, an eerie silence settled over them. He crossed his arms over his chest and stared at the blue wall as it rushed toward them, daring it to crash over the bow. His jaw twitched in irritation. Could their situation possibly get worse? Ay, he knew it could, but he hoped it wouldn’t. “Almighty God of creation, my uncle believes in Your existence, I dare not test You lest You see us all washed into the sea, but if You are real, if You are living and breathing as Oceanus believes You to be, as Ada believes You to be, then I beseech You, save us.”
The bow rose, lifting the bronze battering ram toward the murky sky. Nicolaus gripped the rail in front of him and dared the sea to take his ship, his crew and Ada from him. He would not see defeat this day. He would not. Could not. Assurance flooded his being, puffing out his chest. He held on to that thin thread of confidence as the wave lifted them high.
Chapter Six
Ada handed the babe down to the waiting arms of a gruff-looking sailor standing on the stairs, her queasy stomach forgotten in the face of a greater need. She glanced toward the other boat. The arms and faces of the men in the small fishing vessel, including Nicolaus’s friend Xandros, strained with each push and pull of the oars as it moved backward. Nicolaus shouted out a command, and Ada grasped hold of the rail to keep from falling as the force of their own vessel moved forward.
She brushed her hair from her eyes and stared at their captain. With his arms crossed, Nicolaus stood like a sentry near the city gates. Yet, he was much bigger for he hadn’t the thick walls to offer him protection from the enemy. Nor had he an army to stand beside him. Only two warriors with shields at their backs and swords at their sides. Daggers hung from Nicolaus’s leather belt. What kind of man stood against the sea as if to do battle?
An honorable one, no doubt. One who fought for those under his protection. Including the strangers in the hold. Including her, a mere slave. Had her father cared for his slaves in such a manner? Considering how he left her mother to die at the demands of his wife, she did not think so.
“Ada, you must get below.” Brison’s words must have carried on the wind for Nicolaus turned his head. The hard set of determination etching his jaw stole her breath. If the raging sea were a man it would, no doubt, beg for mercy. “He’s a good sailor, Ada. You’ve no need to worry that we’ll all drown.”
She was fortunate to have Nicolaus as her protector—her master. After all she was no more than a slave. She bit down on the inside of her lip to keep it from quivering. A slave held no honor. Her own mother had been proof of that fact, working from before dawn until after dusk to keep her father’s household as he’d expected, to do his wife’s bidding until her fingers bled from the work she’d demanded of her. Ada recalled the anger of her sisters’ mother at her father’s distress when her mother had died. Was it possible that he loved her?
“Ada.” Brison poked his finger against her shoulder. “We’ve no time to tarry.”
Drawing in a breath of air, she descended the stairs and sat next to the other women. She squinted, peering into the shadows in search of the children. A whimper drew her gaze deeper into the shadows. The boy who had maneuvered these women to safety had his arm wrapped around the young girl. The babe, swaddled in soiled linen, lay at the children’s feet. Looking from the group of women to the children and back again she had the feeling they didn’t want anything to do with them.
Why?
They were children, innocent of any crimes. Ada rose from her spot near the mast and stumbled toward the children where they sat on the bare planks against the lattice. From all she could see it was one of the few spots that did not hold amphora jars. She scooped the babe into her arms and cradled it against her chest. Tufts of dark hair stood straight from the infant’s head. Ada smoothed them back, before kissing the brow and then sat beside the girl child.
An elderly woman leaned forward, her finger pointing at the babe and then at the girl. Her toothless grunts caused Ada to scoot toward the girl as her arms gathered the babe closer. The rest of the women began to mumble among themselves. Their sneers left her chilled and heartbroken for the unwanted children. It was good Ada did not understand their words else she’d more than likely wish them back to their broken fishing vessel to face the angry sea on their own.
The
old woman reached her arms out as she began to rise from her seat. Gray light streamed down upon the woman. The cruelty in her black eyes along with the angry tones spewing from her lips renewed the sickness in Ada’s stomach and she pulled back.
“What is it you want?” Ada trembled as the woman wavered from side to side.
“They believe the child brings terror upon us.”
Ada glanced at the young boy whose arm was wrapped around the little girl in protection. “What sort of nonsense is this?”
The old woman poked her finger in the air toward the young girl and released a mouthful of angry words.
The boy pulled the girl closer. “The mountain caught fire when she was born, as it did when the babe was. They believe them to be cursed. She says we should throw them to sea to appease the gods.”
Ada flinched. Tears pricked the backs of her eyes. How could these women hold to such superstitions?
“What is it they call you?”
“Galen.” He tilted his head toward the girl child. “Edith. She and the babe are my mother’s children.”
Ada was about to respond when the hold creaked as it lifted, rocking her forward with the force of the sea. Ada clutched the babe and settled her cheek against his chilled flesh. “Hold tight to the lattice. Do not let go.”
Galen murmured something to the girl, and then swiveled around and stuck his feet and arms into the square holes. Edith squeezed herself between him and the lattice. Ada was about to do the same when the boat shifted, knocking her over. She righted herself and prayed. “Abba God, save us.”
Ada slid away from the children and was flung against one of the women, crushing her against the mast as the boat continued to rise. Piercing screams filled the boat, echoing off the sealed planks and all the merchandise. Those closest to the mast clung to its thickness, the others grasped hold of the women anchored to the round piece of wood. The boat rocked left, and then right. Ada reached out with a hand to steady herself against the mast, but water rushed through the hole above them, sweeping her and the infant away from its solid strength and toward the back of the boat.