by K. T. Tomb
Aineias nodded and gestured to Jason, the old sailor with the lyre. “Put that thing down, will you? Open the weapon stores and be ready to pass out weapons to all of these men quickly if that ship turns out to be hostile.”
It was clear that Jason wasn’t sure arming the slaves was a good idea but the sailor had survived his fair share of aggressive engagements with Roman ships while sailing the inner seas and he knew that they would need all the sword arms they could get. He took the keys from his belt and went to do as he had been told.
“Open their ankle chains as well, Jason,” Aineias added, “If I need them, I will need them swiftly.”
The skipper made his way aft again.
“She’s not a trader, observed Pyrrhus as soon as Aineias came to stand beside him. They looked at the other ship again. “Pirates, I think.”
“We could set sail and run south,” suggested Pyrrhus.
Aineias shook his head slowly.
“I already thought about it, but we need to make Syracuse today. If we head south she might still catch us, seeing as she’s got the weather, and if we’re not chased we would have lost a lot of time.”
“We could head for Cyrene, then sail for Utica and follow the Southern coast to the Pillars of Hercules.”
But again Aineias shook his head. “Syracuse is where we need to be first.”
“As you wish.”
Pyrrhus was unhappy about the decision and he didn’t mind showing it either. If the ship ahead turned out to be pirates, there would be a fight, and he wasn’t fond of fights. He kept an eye on the approaching vessel, while steadily keeping his own ship on course as she was rowed forward. He could see the striped sail clearly now, and thought he noticed movement at her sides, which would mean she was being rowed as well as sailed. If that were the case, she was definitely no trading ship. Traders would not be rowing as well as sailing, unless they had suffered some damage at sea and making a quick run for land; but there were plenty of beaches and small ports between Gytheio and Syracuse, so it was highly unlikely she was racing east for that reason. Suddenly he saw a glimmer of bronze on her bow, and he knew immediately what he was looking at.
“Warship!” he bellowed.
As Pyrrhus called out from the stern, Aineias rushed towards the mast. He jumped onto the timber and wrapped his legs and arms around it, swiftly pulling himself up, hand over hand, to the top. He looked westward and saw it clearly now. She was a trireme, and clearly Roman. She had red and white sails, with the insignia of the Roman Legion emblazoned on them. From his lofty position he could now also see the sun shining down on the massive cache of steel armaments lining her deck and he shouted below.
“Trireme! Troops on board!”
The free men who were on the deck all rushed to the railing to get a better look at the approaching vessel.
“Watch out below!”
Aineias waited for a space to clear below him and jumped down. He swore as his knees buckled under the impact, but he got up straight away and went aft again.
“We can’t outrun her either way, so let’s just hope they don’t stop us and if they do, that they aren’t spoiling for a fight.”
Pyrrhus suddenly laughed a mad, desperate cackle. How much more hopelessness could this voyage of theirs stand? The nervous laughter spread along the crew and the sentiment even seemed to translate for the Thracians, who also produced broad grins. Aineias observed them; they were uneasy and rightfully so. Meanwhile, the trireme sailed ever closer, and soon enough all the men were able to see the legionnaires on the deck and the rowers on the benches.
Their skipper had a speaking trumpet and hailed them in the crude Romanized Greek dialect. Aineias cupped his hands and bellowed his reply. The Roman steersman steered his vessel closer to the Corinthians and within moments the oars were backing water and she lay almost still in the water beside them. Without a command the sail dropped and she was motionless, though positioned and ready to ride over the oars of the smaller ship if the need arose. All along her railings stood soldiers, their shields and spears ready in their hands. An attack from this force would mean certain death for everyone onboard Aineias’ ship.
“Where are you heading?” asked the Roman captain.
“To Massala with a load of oil. We’re hoping to bring back wine for sale at Corinth!” answered Aineias, without even thinking about it.
“Show us your cargo!”
Aineias swore under his breath. He shaded his eyes with his hand and pretended to look afterward while he thought quickly.
“Of course!” He replied. “Jason, take two men and get one of the vats!”
Aineias held up his bunch of keys, indicating that the man should come and take them from him to gain access to the cargo hold. Surely no merchant worth his salt would leave his cargo loosely about the hold of his ship. Jason approached him with an uncertain look on his face.
“The vat of cooking oil,” Aineias whispered, as the sailor took the keys from his hand. “Bring it up here.”
Without a word Jason touched two men and the three of them went through the hatch, into the hold. Moments later an earthen vessel was lifted and hauled onto the deck. Aineias pulled the large cork plug from the top and stuck his hand inside and ladled up a handful of oil, allowing it to flow through his fingers and back into the jar. He was praying for ignorance on the Roman captain’s part to get away with the ruse; as long as he wasn’t familiar with the trades he wouldn’t notice how small the jug of oil actually was.
He seemed satisfied with the evidence and ordered his ships’ sails to be raised again. The drums struck up again, beating the rhythm for the rowers. With the threat passed, Jason immediately made himself busy securing the Thracians by locking them back into their briefly discarded ankle chains.
“Safe journey!” the Captain called back at them.
“Thank you! The same to you! Where are you heading?”
“Corinth!” was the single word that drifted to them from the Roman ship as it was pulling away just as rapidly as it had approached.
Chapter Two
Two days later they sailed into the great harbor of Syracuse. The wind had changed in their favor the night after they had encountered the Roman trireme, but the oars had not been stowed. News that the Roman ship was heading for their home city made their mission all the more urgent. Aineias stood on the bow of the ship and looked around the harbor, taking stock of the vessels that were docked there. He saw Phoenician, Greek and Nubian boats, even some small vessels he thought could be from Gaul, there were trading ships made there as well; but the bulk of the ships in the harbor were Roman navy. He knew instantly that a fleet was being assembled to bolster their efforts to take Greece. Whenever they decided to march on the country, they would be in need of a large fleet to match the extensive fleets of the Greek navies and cut off the supplies from overseas. His heart sank to his stomach; even if he could find Priteni and locate a spot for a colony, there was no way the route to Corinth would be open unless the Roman fleet could be defeated as well.
The free crew members were eager to go ashore and find some wine in the taverns around the quays, so as soon as they were properly docked and the usual chores had been completed to Pyrrhus’ satisfaction, he let them go. Before they set the gangplank, Aineias warned them insistently that none of them utter a word about their journey. He stayed behind on the ship. Pyrrhus approached him as dusk settled in. He had seen how moody the skipper had become since entering the harbor of Syracuse. Quietly he had walked to the bow of the ship and he sat down close to where Aineias was slumped up against the gunwale. His legs were drawn up to his chest, arms wrapped around his legs and his chin rested on his knees; he was staring at the lights of the city.
“I had hoped this would mean we could forget about this stupid campaign.”
Aineias looked up at him, staring blankly.
“And what made you think that?”
Pyrrhus sighed.
“You know as well as I do that ev
en if we find the island and a site for a new city, there is no way we can settle it without the Romans intervening, let alone begin supplying Corinth from it without them seizing our ships.”
Aineias nodded and sank back into his reticence. He didn’t bother to reply to the obvious points Pyrrhus had stated. After a short silence, Pyrrhus laughed and clapped the skipper on the shoulder.
“Well, if it means we’re not giving up, we might as well make sure we are as well prepared to meet any further challenges that might be out there for us.”
Aineias looked up at him, wondering what Pyrrhus had in mind.
“This is Syracuse, Aineias,” he started, “the birthplace of Archimedes. This is the place where they set ships alight with mirrors and where they built enormous traps to stop warships entering the harbor. There’s something about this city that inspires idiotic ideas that turn out well.”
Again Aineias looked at Pyrrhus, what he had said had made sense; it gave him a bit of hope. Slowly he nodded and pushed himself up from the deck.
“You’re right,” he said, as he stepped onto the railing and jumped from the prow onto the quay.
“What are you doing?” Pyrrhus shouted down at him, as the skipper began walking towards the town.
“I’m going to find an insane idea that might work!”
***
It was close to dawn, the jug of wine was almost empty and Aineias was feeling drunk. He had hoped to find someone or something that could give him an idea of how to deal with the Roman navy. But in the dark, sullen taverns he had visited, nothing of the sort had happened. All that had changed was the weight of his purse; he had spent coin after coin of his precious gold on wine that was so strong he felt it would rot his insides. He drank the wine un-watered like the barbaric Romans did, and had become increasingly melancholy with every little jug.
The taverns were beginning to quiet down now as most crews returned to their ships before their skippers would have to come and find them, while the rest lay in drunken stupor around the tables and benches, or in the streets and on the quays. He knew his own men had gone back to the ship already, having seen them making their way as he had stumbled in from another tavern. The wine was slightly better, which made for a nice change, but like all the other taverns, it was now almost lifeless. The only people still up were the owner and a couple of Gaul sailors who were having a good time with one of the whores. Somewhere above his head, Aineias heard the moans of another whore and the squeaking of the boards seemed to suggest someone was busy making use of her.
He yawned and decided he would finish the wine and head back to the ship. Perhaps inspiration would come after some sleep. He poured the last of the wine into his cup and sipped it. He sighed, already accepting that a headache and a sour belly would be his lot in the morning.
He was getting up to leave just as two Iberians walked in. They were followed a few minutes later by three figures in cloaks that were a strange deep purple trimmed with white and gold embellishments. The Iberians approached the counter, while the three strangers sat in a far corner to themselves.
“So, you survived that monster then?” the owner greeted them.
One of the men sighed audibly, the other just shook his head and sat down on the bench next to Aineias’.
“Ha! How bad was the trip?” The owner asked, as he placed a jug of wine on the counter.
The Iberian gathered it up swiftly. Without answering, he threw some coins down and sat down next to his mate. He poured some wine for both of them and both drank in silence. Aineias was stiff in his seat, suddenly frozen on the bench. He didn’t know why, but something told him to stay where he was. He raised his hand, asking the owner for another jug of wine. The man came up to his table with another jug and held out his hand for the coin. Aineias placed the coin in his hand, but took a hold of his hand to stop him walking away.
“What monster were you talking about?”
The owner glanced at the two Iberians. “They claim they saw a gigantic octopus, big enough to swallow ships.”
Just then the three in the corner beckoned to the tavern keeper and called out, “Water!”
He rushed to attend to them.
Aineias frowned. “Swallow ships?”
“Yes,” the owner grinned, “They thought they would try and capture it. Seemed to think if they could tame it then they could control the strait between the Pillars.”
The Iberian who had paid for the wine turned in his seat. “And we nearly had the bugger too. But we just couldn’t restrain the beast. Our nets were strong enough, but our rowers were not.”
Aineias raised his cup to his lips and drank. “And where did you find this monster?”
The Iberian looked at him. “Why?”
“Just interested.”
The Iberian measured him up, trying to decide whether the Greek had an ulterior motive, but in the end figured he would tell more of the story to him.
“We’re from Olissipo, past the Pillars of Hercules. Last year, boats and ships began disappearing. We figured they’d just got lost, or been taken by the storm. But that didn’t account for some of the missing ships. So we thought the Gallaeci or the Canii had begun raiding our ships. We sent emissaries to them, but they denied it.”
“Not that we believed a word they said,” his mate chimed in, grinning. “Beat half of them bloody before we actually discovered they were telling the truth.”
“How did you find that out then?” asked Aineias.
“As we returned from beating the crap out of some Gallaeci, a trader sailed up the Tagos. Their skipper had some Gauls onboard who claimed to come from a tribe called the Cimbri,” the first Iberian answered him. “He was really nervous and he kept scanning the water. In the end my brother and I went to talk to him. He told us that his ship had been attacked by a monster.”
The man drank some more wine and his tongue was loosened a bit by the drink. “We saw the beast the next day as it took down a tin trader from Belerion. So we hatched a plan. If we could get a few good ships and good rowers, we might be able to catch it. With that beast in our grasp, we could control the strait. Everyone would have to pay for passage, or we would release the monster on them.”
“A brilliant plan it was, even if I do say so myself,” the other Iberian complimented himself. “That’s why we came here last time; we wanted to see whether there was still an Archimedes type inventor here who could invent something to help us, and of course to buy some strong rowers.”
“We bought a whole crew of Phoenician and Athenian rowers and we were confident we could take the beast when we went back. We set out with three boats, nets at the ready and all our new strong, experienced rowers on board. Almost immediately we found it, but then lost it in the chase. After that we spent a week wandering around in the ocean’s fog and high waves. Finally, on the ninth day, we saw it again. Out of nowhere we saw its tentacles rise out of the water and we went straight for it. It took a while then, but we saw it again. A single appendage was raised above the waves, huge suckers facing us. It seemed to be waving at us, and I would be lying if I said not one of us was scared; but we went on. “Then we saw that tentacle a third time, not more than 50 paces from us. We lowered our sails and dropped our nets, spreading out as fast as we could. Two of our boats passed the place where that tentacle had come from, and began completing the circle, while our own boat stayed behind to pick up the slack on the line and to help if something went wrong. Then, as they began to come together again... Oh blast man, how could you have drunk all the wine? I’ve barely drunk two cups!”
The man interrupted himself, swearing at his companion who had finished the jug. The other raised his hands apologetically and the speaker’s face began to grow red but Aineias handed over his own jug of wine before the two could begin fighting. Immediately the redness disappeared from the man’s face and he poured a cup.
“Thank you very much, that’s very kind of you.”
“I’ve had enough anyway and if
a cup of wine is what you need to continue your story, I am more than happy to oblige.”
The remark provoked a laugh and Aineias was offered a hand.
“Thank you again my friend, not many would be so kind!”
The man drained his cup and poured another before setting the jug down, keeping it far out of the reach of his companion.
“You don’t get any of my new friend’s wine, you bloody drunk!”
His mate waved him off not wanting to start an argument and stood to get another drink at the counter.
“So, where was I? Oh yes, the boats began to drift together to close the net and as it closed, the monster rose from the water. Its head came up first, two gigantic eyes that peaked above the waves and looked straight at us; then it was gone again. The boats had crossed and came back towards us, then just when they reached us and we began hauling in the net, there it was again. The head came up; rearing high and two of its tentacles rose high and smashed down!”
His hand hit the table with a bang to emphasize what happened.
“It crushed one boat, just slammed straight through it, and the other tentacle rested on the second boat and just pushed it under. Immediately men began screaming and there was chaos all around us. We thought to use our harpoons, but by then the sailors who could swim were clutching at our gunwales. We hauled them on board and just rowed back towards port. We still tried to drag the net, but the beast was too strong and no amount of whipping could make those men row harder than they did. The beast was too strong; it had decided it would not come with us. It lashed out again with a massive tentacle and hit the line. Our stern was dragged under and the whole boat would have gone down had the steersman not had the presence of mind to draw his knife and cut the line.”
There was silence for a moment, then the tavern keeper suddenly spoke up.
“What a load of rubbish! Typical fishing tale!”
“It’s true!” protested the man without wine.