by K. T. Tomb
“Yes, and I am Poseidon himself,” the tavern keeper retorted.
Aineias got to his feet and nodded to the men.
“It’s about time I got back to my ship. Thank you for the story.”
He made for the door, but then halted and looked around. “Does that beast have a name?”
One of the Iberians shrugged, but the story teller thought for a moment.
“We don’t have a name for it, but that Cimbri trader did; he called it the Kraken.”
Aineias wandered along the quay, back towards the ship in the first rays of the morning sun. His head was already beginning to throb and he felt dreadful. His mind was blank; he still had no idea why he had allowed himself to consume so much wine but more importantly, why had he stayed to listen to the Iberian’s tall tale? Back at the ship, he clambered on board. It was a miracle he did not wake any of the crew or the slaves, though he thought he saw the light reflected off Pyrrhus’ opened eyes. He crawled into the space below the steers deck that was his own little cabin, drew the blanket over his body and felt sleep wash over him.
Normally, he was a man who kept his wits about him, especially when he was in a port away from home. The streets of seaside merchant towns such as Syracuse were always teeming with vagabonds waiting for the chance to take advantage of drunken sailors. Had he been more alert, Aineias would have noticed that the three strangers had left the tavern not long after he had. Had he been more alert, he would also have noticed them in the darkness of the side street watching intently as he boarded his ship.
Chapter Three
Pyrrhus kept the men as quiet as he could for most of the morning, delaying their regular morning chores and opting to send them quayside for supplies instead. With the gold he had at his disposal he gave them instructions to purchase the required provisions and sent them off in teams of two. He had seen when Aineias returned to the boat and he guessed that the skipper must have a sore head. Over the years of sailing with him, Pyrrhus had come to know that Aineias always produced the best deal or had the most innovative idea after he had spent a night drinking in town.
But when the men returned with the provisions and the sun had risen to its highest point, he couldn’t keep the men quiet anymore; they had to get started on the neglected morning chores. The Thracians bent over their benches and oars, scraping caked salt from the wood and wiping the surfaces clean with wet rags. They spoke to each other in their own language and somehow their conversation did not seem like a lighthearted one. Pyrrhus walked aft and began to coil the new rope he had bought. Daizus came to help him.
“Master,” the giant man said.
“Yes, Diazus. What is it?”
“The men are disappointed that they were not given leave last night like the others. They would have enjoyed seeing the city for we have never been this far South before.”
Not taking his eyes from the rope in their hands, Pyrrhus nodded, fully understanding why they would feel that way. It wouldn’t have seemed fair to them, they were very new to their slavery and very well treated by Aineias.
“I had thought very carefully about it before making that choice, Diazus,” Pyrrhus said, finally looking up to meet the man’s eyes, “Firstly, Syracuse is a dangerous metropolis that can be a tricky place for an unattended slave. It is quite common for both free persons and slaves to be kidnapped and sold here. I didn’t want to risk the safety of any of you. Secondly, it is also the regular practice of local thieves to attack docked ships and steal their supplies and wares while the crew is off at nights. I needed to have the protection of your men for the ship.”
“I agree with your reasoning, Master,” Diazus said nodding his head appreciatively.
He was clearly impressed with the steersman’s strategic logic; he thought like a warrior more than a sailor.
“I will silence their grumbling and ensure they remain at my Masters’ pleasure.”
“That would be appreciated. I will ensure they get some time on land for adequate recreation; just in a safer port.”
The men nodded respectfully to each other and Pyrrhus returned to his ropes. He stared out at the Roman triremes neatly arranged in the harbor. Never had he seen so many warships assembled and it worried him. The Romans were already in Macedon and soon their ships would be off the Peloponnessos and their armies marching through Thessaly and Aetolia, Boetia and Attica. Legions would be on the isthmus and only a day’s march from Corinth. He sighed and began pacing. A groan came from below his feet.
“Is it absolutely necessary for you to stomp around up there like that?”
Moments later Aineias’ miserable face came up from the cabin.
“Pyrrhus, my poor head...”
The words sounded feeble and he blinked against the sun, then retreated back to the dark cabin, still groaning. Pyrrhus grinned and noticed several of the crew grinning too. The skipper could not hold his wine well. Pyrrhus wouldn’t tolerate the men laughing at their skipper so he bellowed at them to fetch some buckets, mops and brushes and get busy scrubbing the deck. It was a constant chore, and always resented by the crew, but quite necessary. The scrubbing was not to keep the ship clean, but to keep the deck planks as hydrated as the planks of the ship that touched the water were. If not done, some of the planks would begin shrinking, the caulking would come out and eventually the ship would become uncontrollable and a danger to its crew. Those facts didn’t stop them hating the chore. Pyrrhus poured a cup of watered wine from one of the jugs they had purchased that morning and took it to his friend. He knew well enough that the fastest cure for a wine-head was a little more wine.
About an hour later, when the sun was throwing its bright rays into the small cabin, Aineias finally rolled off the pile of blankets and furs that was his bed and came up to the deck. Without saying a word to any of them, he stripped off his clothes and hopped over the railing. With a splash he entered the water and moments later he resurfaced, shaking his head to shift the wet hair from before his eyes. The dip in the water helped him clear his fuzzy head and slowly he swam back to the boat. Pyrrhus had already lowered a cable into the water for him to climb up the side of the ship.
“Fruitful evening,Skipper?” Pyrrhus asked him, as he hauled his naked body up to the deck. Aineias groaned again, not because of his sore head, but because he barely remembered what had happened the night before.
“I’m not completely sure,” he mumbled. “Everything is a bit of a blur. I remember some story a man told me in the tavern, but that’s it.”
“So, just gold spent on wine and women and nothing to show for it?”
“Mind your own business,” Aineias’ answer was curt. His head was still throbbing, but not so much that he couldn’t gather his thoughts. “Food?”
“The men made some nice black stew.” Just what Aineias needed. Blood and liver and oats. The skipper immediately picked up his clothes, dressed and went to look at the pot.
***
Aineias’ head finally stopped throbbing when the sun was on its way down, and then he began to put the events of the previous night together. He called Pyrrhus to him and from the back of the ship they watched the sun setting behind the city of Syracuse.
“I found out the Romans are indeed assembling a fleet here and there’s more ships and troops at Zancle. I couldn’t find out exactly what they’re up to, but everyone is sure they will head east.”
Pyrrhus nodded, he had heard much the same from the men who had been in the town. They encountered many Roman sailors and soldiers in town and heard various accounts from shipbuilders who had been working on the triremes and the barges that would form the support fleet.
“Not much more can be said about it really.”
“So if it wasn’t information, or a woman, that kept you out so late, what did?”
Aineias shuffled his feet.
“I’m not sure if it’s even important but some Iberians from a place called Olissipo were telling me about some beast they tried to capture so they could us
e it to collect toll from everyone wanting to pass the Pillars. It’s a big octopus, they said, that likes to devour ships. It smashed one of theirs with a single swipe of its tentacle and dragged another under.”
Pyrrhus laughed.
“A fisherman’s tale!” he retorted, but he saw the look on his friend’s face.
“Is that your great plan then? To capture that beast on our way to find Priteni? Then what?”
“We can release it here to destroy the Roman ships,” Aineias said softly.
Pyrrhus stopped laughing and his eyes opened wide. He stared at the skipper, trying to find out whether he was joking or not.
“You could never be serious!” he cried.
Aineias nodded slowly.
“It could work, but we should probably look for the beast and bring it here before we look for Priteni. That way we know we can get back when we need to.”
Pyrrhus shook his head.
“A few minutes ago, I had thought that finding that damned island was the dumbest idea you’ve ever had, but you’ve just beaten your own record.”
The skipper grinned at him.
“Good! I don’t see why it can’t work.We have strong rowers, we just need to get some good nets, perhaps harpoons and lines, and then we’ll be able catch the beast. We could lay waste to the Roman navy and then all that would be left for our people in Corinth, and our other allies, to do is to hold the isthmus; like the Spartans and Arcadians did when the Persians burned Athens.”
Again Pyrrhus shook his head.
“Aineias, you know that I would follow you to Hades if I had to, but this is the most insane scheme you have ever thought up.”
Aineias grinned and clapped a hand on his steersman’s shoulder.
“If you have a better idea, let me know before the morning, because then I will begin fitting us out for the hunt.”
***
Pyrrhus thought about it all evening. He pondered it while he sat eating his supper and again while he inspected the deck. He mulled it over when he laid down to sleep, and even his dreams kept reminding him of the question; by morning he had not come up with a better plan.
He rose before the skipper, only Jason, who had been given the last watch over the ship, was awake. Pyrrhus gave him a nod when he sat down on the railing along the ship’s stern. He hated the idea of doing something as reckless as going after this monster. After all, they could just be spending a lot of time, money and effort on a venture with the distinct possibility that there was no creature at all. The Iberians could have made the whole thing up.
And yet, he could think of no better way to deal with the Roman navy. He thought of the machines that Archimedes had produced: the ship trap with the spike, the mirror, and the enormous catapults that could shoot bolts straight through a ship. He knew they could never make those again, find and recruit allied Achaean ships, outfit them with marvelous weapons, secure the harbors around the Peloponnesos and fight a winning battle against an assembled Roman navy. It couldn’t be done.
An obvious option would be to simply set fire to the ships in the harbor and the shipyards, but that still left them with the fleet at Zancle and the ships that were inevitably being built in the shipyards of Ostia and across the Italian peninsula. It was quite hopeless. In the end he decided Aineias’ plan was mad, but the only one that might work. There was only one thing he knew had to be done, which was to send news of the developments to Corinth and that was what he told the skipper the moment he rose.
That morning Aineias took Daizus and another crew member to a fishing village outside the city to find nets. Pyrrhus stayed with the ship but sent crew members to the shipyards to see about extra line.
Aineias returned late in the afternoon, he had hired some fishermen to make large, strong nets for them and arranged with a blacksmith to make harpoons. Pyrrhus shook his head sadly, amazed at how caught up they were in the throes of Aineias’ idiotic plan. He loved Corinth and Hellas as much as the next man, but he had never thought of fighting for it. He envisioned massed ranks of hoplites marching onto the plains outside Corinth ready to match their swords and spears to those of his family and friends. The thought made him shudder with fear. The plan to capture the monster to defeat the Roman fleet was certainly part of a plan to defend their city, but where it was one thing to die on the field of battle, or to be slain on board the ships that would become locked together fighting at sea; to go down to Poseidon’s deep vaults trying to catch a giant octopus was without glory or gratitude altogether.
When the men returned, they ate a supper of fish stew and bread, drank some of Pyrrhus’ watered wine and turned in to get some much needed rest. Aineias lay on his bed staring up at the ceiling of the cabin. They would have another day and night in Syracuse and then they would sail for the Pillars of Hercules, where they would begin looking for the creature. He had not given up on the possibility of finding the island of Priteni, but it was not their prime target now. He was nervous about his scheme, yet excited, and he felt deep in his heart that it could work.
Chapter Four
After loading the massive nets, lines and new harpoons onboard the ship; they sailed south from Syracuse. Aineias and Pyrrhus had considered sailing through the strait of Messena so they might have had a chance to look at the fleet that was said to be assembling there, but the consequence would have been sailing the Tyrrhenian Sea, which was awash with Roman ships and pirates. The coast of Sicily harbored many raiders, and so did Sardinia. Then they would have to cross an expanse of open water to reach the equally dangerous Ballearic Islands before finding their way along the southern oast of Iberia to reach the Pillars. It was entirely too risky.
Before they cast off, Pyrrhus had taken some gold ashore and found a fisherman with a sturdy craft. He wrote a message detailing the assembly of the Roman fleet at Syracuse and the rumors about the fleet at Messena which he paid the man well to take to Dyme, a port city on the western edge of Achaea and an ally of Corinth. He was sure they would send the news on to the other cities and allow all of the alliance to prepare for the inevitable Roman invasion.
When he had passed through the square on his way back to the docks, Pyrrhus noticed a corral near the city’s western gates. Tied to the fence were three of the most magnificent horses he had ever seen. They were tall and lean, strong and white as snow, not a blemish on their coats. Beautiful woven blankets had been spread across their backs and tied securely at their necks; it was the finest weave dyed the richest shade of purple in the known world, murex dye. As he stood there admiring them, Pyrrhus saw three people who he thought must be the horses’ owners, standing in the shade of the corral shed. They were busy drinking greedily from large water pots but somehow no spots of wetness showed on their beautiful purple cloaks which covered them from head to toe.
Strange, he thought to himself, but he had found out over the years that there was hardly anything stranger than the things a sailor could see in the port cities of the Mediterranean. He watched as the three gave the rest of their precious water to their horses to drink, tenderly mounted them and rode out of the corral towards the western gates.
***
They rounded the rocks of Cape Páchynos later that day and sailed west along the coast of Sicily. Late in the evening, an Eastern wind picked up so they hoisted their sail and stowed the oars. Pyrrhus steered the boat further out to sea. They knew these shores well enough to know not to beach the boat there; many unwise sailors had lost their lives to the raiders of this island over the years.
Sicily had been a battle ground for centuries; the Carthaginians and the Greeks, and then the Romans and the Greeks, had fought over it endlessly. Various Greek factions; big cities like Messena and Syracuse, had strived for control over the rich, fertile soil of the island. The people who had suffered the most with each conflict had been the ordinary men and women who farmed the land and sailed the seas around it, catching fish and scraping out a living. These simple folk now thought nothing of attacking traders
to recover some of the wealth that had been taken from them by every plundering and raping army that passed through their lands.
Pyrrhus took the first watch and kept the boat coursing along the coast. He thanked the gods for sending him a clear night and kept her sailing afore the wind at a regular distance from the shoreline. At around midnight, Aineias took control of the rudder and steered the boat a bit further out to sea. He changed the course so they would reach the island of Cossyra by midday. As Aineias began to feel his eyelids droop, the sun rose brightly behind them and his steersman rose from his sleep. With the sun up and the crew and rowers awake, Pyrrhus took over the steering of the ship again so Aineias could take his morning exercise.
Normally they would beach the ship for the night, but when that was not possible and they had to keep going, the skipper and the steersman would take turns guiding while the others got a good night’s sleep. Aineias stripped off his clothes and tied a line about his waist. He tied the other end of the long line to the railing of the steering deck and dove straight in. He stayed under for a moment, then came up and made some fast strokes through the cold water, knowing he could keep pace with the boat for a few moments before she would begin to outpace him. Eventually she would leave him behind and the slack on the line would disappear, eventually she would be dragging him through the waves. Just before that happened, he took hold of the line and began pulling himself in. Not long after, he was on board again. He dried himself off and put his clothes back on, then he took the rudder and it was Pyrrhus’ turn to jump in.
They reached Cossyra on schedule and rowed into one of the bays. They had been here many times and they knew the people of the village well. Pyrrhus spoke a little of the Phoenician language and went to the town to pay the Chief his tribute, an expected practice which kept everyone happy. On the way back, he bought some vegetables, eggs, bread and fish from some local farmers and fishermen; which made for a great meal that evening and breakfast the next morning.