Insurgent of Rome

by Ken Farmer

  A swift rush of air caused the Roman to dip suddenly in response to the familiar sound, but instantly realized what it was. With some surprise, a spearman, only a pair of strides from the three suddenly toppled into the water, face down and with an arrow firmly embedded in his chest. The surprise was for all, and in quick succession, more flew to destroy the untidy line of advancing men. Now came the proof of their lack of experience in actual battle. Rather than stooping into the water to allow their dead comrades to give some measure of shield, the remaining men turned and fled, thrashing in the water as swiftly as their legs would move.

  There was no need for their haste. The First Mate on the ship had seen need to stop the assault on his Captain, but once the undisciplined unit was in flight, there was no reason of slaughter of men who had ceased to be a threat.

  The Captain turned in time to see the throw of the rope toward the three. The sinewed arm of Densus easily cast the distance, using a piece of stovewood as weight at the end. Grabbing it as it fell, he barked, "Take hold! And firmly!" As both the black and the Greek made their grip, he waved with his off hand and the three were towed to the ship with no small effort of the four men at the pull. In a trice, they were on deck and running to places for the departure.

  "Pull the kedges!" The anchor stones were lifted, allowing the ship to float freely, then the call, "Hoist away!" The sailcloth rose to the pinnacle, filling with the moderate breeze. Flavius, on the rudder, needed no command to pull the wooden bar until they were pointing into the bay and away from the doomed harbor.

  Kaeso strode up to the after deck, his hand pointing across the waters. "Yon vulturi are in wait and in more flock than yestereve." Scattered around horizon were various vessels, not in directed movement but in apparent leisure. As seabirds waiting for shoals of fish moving in shallow water to give spawn, the pirates were laying their nets to catch rich merchants abandoning the city of Salona, and no doubt filled with riches and wealth of those with the substance to take ship.

  "Aye," replied the Captain. "I suspect that some will wish to treat with us." With the ship underway, the crew was now engaged in carrying the heavy chests to the bilge, where they would assist the balance of the ship, rather than mar it as topheavy weight on the deck. "Your entering our discussion with the Virgiles of the city was most timely."

  The First Mate grinned widely. "What would I do with a treasure ship and no Capitaneus at the helm? Like as not, I would have us on the rocks of Echinades before the next Ides." He pointed forward. "My task was to keep the men from feathering everyone at the water's edge. Judoc, especially, was most wroth at the disrespect of the overdressed swell bandying words with his Capitaneus." He looked back at the receding docks. "However, I have much doubt that we will be given welcome by the magistrates in this city again."

  The Captain shook his head. "By the morning sun, this port will not even exist, except as a feeding ground of carrion birds and dogs. Our return is unlikely." Finally, he said, "Keep the men ready. I have doubt that our discussions with wood and iron are over for the day as yet."

  All men on the Petrel were familiar with the bow, if not as expert as the Captain and the man from a village far to the north of Rome, Judoc. It was, in fact, a condition of employ for the ship. If a man had no use of the weapon, then he must learn or find another berth. Many were the sessions, in days of calm, in which the butts were stacked at the far peak of the ship, to allow the men practice in the skill. And if many shafts went past the bundle of straw to disappear over the bow into the water, such was of no importance. A large crate in the hold was filled with crude arrows, but of sufficient goodness to allow practice over the short range allowed by the length of the ship.

  The small encounter at the shoreline was indication of the worth of such skill to a ship in strange waters. Of course, the distance between marksman and mark had been trivial, barely beyond ten strides, and gave no reason for tale-building for the victory. Still, the ability to engage at range was worth more than a Contubernium of spearmen on deck.

  Since the fall of Carthage, and the disappearance of their vast fleet of galleys, the pirates had begun the infestation of the sea, and in no small number. With no further threat on the waters from some vast domain, Rome had allowed its fleet of galleys to rot on the shores rather than spend the vast amount of gold required for the upkeep. Thus, any merchant vessel had need of being large and well manned with armed men to contest with any who wished to board without sanction - and reducing any cargo and profit by the weight of men. Or, be fleet of way and capable of showing heels to any pursuer.

  The Petrel was both. Only of medium draft, but the lines of the ship were improved from previous vessels in the ownership of the Roman family of Clavius, and was indeed swift in any breeze from a light zephyr to a roaring blow of the sea-gods. Heavily manned it was not, but every crewman, besides the Sage, was skilled in the discouragement of pirates attempting closure. It was the firm opinion of every man on board that each was the master of any mere scum attempting to take without vending, and whose past deeds gave tolerable reason for such belief.

  A vessel by the name of Petrel had been plying the Great Sea, in the service of the Clavius household, since before the fall of Carthage - for three generations, in fact. Different ships, of course, but all taking the name of the original that had begun the roam of the waters.

  "Flavius! Come two handspans to the dexter side!" The call to the tillerman gave a new point to the ship, now traveling at best pace in the cross wind. To his First, the Captain said, "Yon galley has a ram. Best we not give him our hull." With a pointing of his hand, he said again to the man on the rudder pole, "Take a turn downwind from yon sailer. I would rather treat with that hulk than yon overmanned galley." Now two men began to raise the barriers on either side of the tiller position - made of thin boards, but of sufficiency to stop any spear or arrow that might come aboard. It was of much importance that the man giving direction to the ship not be feathered or speared in any encounter.

  Further along, at the waist and again at the forepeak were other barriers, now raised, allowing protection for the rest of the crew from either side. Melglos, the Greek, and man of the merchant, was not acting the part of a passenger. He too was assisting in the raising of the thin and short wooden walls. under the pointing of one of the crew.

  Seeing that the men had no need of instruction, the Captain called forward, "Patroclus! Take our guest and get below. I have no desire to have my men stumble over your feathered bodies during our treat with yon reavers." He knew that the Sage would stand below long before any wood was flying, but he had no such assurance of the merchant, Barsa. The portly man was not cast in the same mold as most men of commerce - his being was infused with a streak of adventure. Every other man of enterprise would have fled the city in panicked run when the alarms had been sounded, but Barsa calmly had gone somewhere in the doomed city to finish some transaction.

  "It will be a close wedge, Capitaneus."

  The Roman just nodded, measuring the span of water between two sailers. Neither had the pace of the Petrel - far from it - but if they made closure then the smaller ship would be trapped between two hulls. He reached down to pick up the large Roman scutum - the shield that was the standard protection for all in a Legion. His men had them at their feet, but an archer cannot both give stance with both bow and shield. The wooden barriers would be their cover from any returned shafts. If the Petrel was boarded, then the bow would be dropped for both shield and gladius - or spear.

  "By the stinking piss of Jupiter," gave Kaeso. "Our way will be tighter than the shrunken venter of Venus!" The pirate vessel to the downwind course could not close up, but was acting as a shoal against which the Petrel might be driven by the other reaver. Now, a few arrows came from both ships, high and without much effect, indifferently shot from equally mediocre weapons. Archers cannot take a position, nor a ship, by force. They can merely give hesitation to any defenders, those needing to watch both foe and any shafts that
might connect with their being.

  At least, such was the thought of most men of arms around the Great Sea.

  There was no reaction from the Petrel as yet, the ship being pointed to push through the wedge that was being attempted by the two pirates. The Captain was stooped, to allow only his eyes to give vision above the wooden barriers, and Flavius was crouched on his knees. His need of concentration on the rudder gave no allowance to watch for incoming shafts. The distance was down to a few handfuls of strides between the ships. Bobbing his head up for a quick look, Flavius said, "We will ground on one or the other, Capitaneus - if not both."

  The Captain nodded, then said, "Strike the one to windward if we cannot miss. Yon boat to the lee cannot luff up to us." His man nodded, then continued his reckoning as to the best course to make the gap.

  A bowstring twanged and the Roman saw a man on the upwind ship totter and fall back into the hull. The weapon of Judoc had spoken, and with firmness. The man was a skilled - nay, a consummate archer, having even more than the skill of the Captain. His genesis was in some nameless village in the northlands - Gaul, the land was named by some. Many were the doubts of the crew at the time, to employ a man with a definite limp and with little facility in any tongue known around the Great Sea. Whence the injury came, to give the man a shortened leg, was not known at the time, but all gave wager that the reason was not benign. Such doubts of usefulness lasted only past their first encounter after his engagement as shipmate.

  On a past conjunction with reavers, over a sea that was cursed by Neptune that stormy day, with the ship heaving as if being assailed by an angry leviathan and with men barely able to stand without firm grip on a line or rail, a long arrow shot marked down the Captain of a pirate galley, closing quickly with both oars and sail in full toil. His body had not yet ceased its fall and roll when both men at the two steering oars toppled with a shaft in each. And to underline the displeasure of the man of Gaul, to have his time for the evening meal disturbed, the officer that suddenly appeared on the afterdeck to assume command quickly followed his Captain into Hades, actually tumbling over the side of the ship from the force of the shaft.

  Leaderless and without hand on the steering oars, the galley turned with the wind and flowed into the rain and mist, never to be seen again by the Petrel. No further discussion of doubt to the worth of the man of Gaul was ever made.

  Now other bowstrings began to sound. The crew knew that with any distance of water between the ships, blades were useless, no matter the skill of the wielder. There were far more pirates on the two vessels than in the Petrel, but few were bowmen and those mostly armed with the ordinary straight-limbed weapon common to all lands. The bows of the men on the fleeing merchant were of the double curved wood, from the land of the Scythians, although none on the vessel but the Sage could give identity to that domain. Purchased by the Captain himself, and for no small purse of gold, it gave the advantage over men grown to violence, but without formal training or even the discipline to act as a group.

  With both shield and gladius at the ready, the Roman strode to the waist of the ship, giving calculation of where the two ships would meet. From behind the double walls in the waist, he watched as a man stood to throw a grapnel over the span of water. His arm only made a double whirl of the rope when a shaft pushed him against the mast of his ship, giving halt to his immediate fall to the deck. Such hesitation apparently gave some thought to another of the crew in the Petrel that the man was still of some threat. Another arrow appeared in the chest and the man slid to the deck.

  Turning, the Captain called, "Densus! Keep watch on yon ship to leeward. Give call if they can touch our side!" The man, crouching behind his protective wood, nodded and waved his acknowledgment.

  Now with a goodly thump, but not a lumber shattering impact, the two ships met with the forward quarter of the Pirate hitting the waist of the Petrel. The other vessel was larger, but sat lower in the water, both from design and the fact that their quarry was almost empty of cargo. As such, it was a goodly leap for a man to vault from the deck of one to the other.

  Too much so, for any success. Several who assumed stance to make the jump were marked down by Judoc - the distance between bowman and mark so short that any shaft that did not hit bone would fly out of the far side of the body to strike any behind. Their mates who did manage the leap were met with some violence. With the Captain and First Mate waiting with ready blades, and the tall Ngozi wielding a long spear, none who made the leap lived to stand from his vault between the ships.

  The smaller ship still had goodly way and the bow of the pirate skidded along the side-hull, requiring the three men to walk along the side rail to maintain the barment to pirates. In only a few heartbeats the danger of the closure would be past, but...

  Another thump, of less intensity this time, but behind them. The Captain turned to see the leeward ship graze their opposite side before falling away in the wind-shadow of the other two vessels. Again, the reavers attempted to swarm over the momentarily touching hulls with several making the leap. He was about rush in haste to assist the single man watching that side, Densus, but stopped as both that man and another gave short work to the interlopers.

  It was immediately obvious that the newly come hireling of Barsa, Melglos, was not some mere taburna brawler giving brandish with tongue and blade. As Julius watched, the long sword of the Greek made quick and deadly execution among the men who had jumped the strakes when the two ships had momentarily met. Densus - and himself not a man to be accosted without harm - had only time to dispatch one of their number before the remaining had been deprived of life - and in the case of two, their heads.

  With the Petrel now moved beyond the reach of both clumsy pirate vessels, the need was only to watch for the odd shaft that might come aboard - not from any hope of use, but in frustration by men seeing their prey sail away and out of reach. Finally, as the range opened to safety, all stood and relaxed, looking around at their fellows to make assurance that none needed succor from any wounds.

  Without command from the Captain, they began to tip the bodies of their attackers over the rails. Then to Flavius - the acting carpenter of the Petrel - on the rudder pole, he said, "I will take the pointing. Go forward and check our hull where the wood made contact."

  That took little time until the man returned with the word that negligible damage was seen. "A few strakes were broken, but such will only mar our appearance. I can have them replaced before the next watch."

  Now the Captain pointed. "Nay, not as yet." A galley was in full stroke just off the sinister quarter of the stern. "Yon rowship wishes to try their luck fishing in our waters." Handing the pole back to Flavius, he said, "Put them directly in our wake and point to downwind."

  "Aye, Capitanus," replied his man. "But in these light airs they will reach on us easily."

  Indeed, the wind was steady but without much force. A sailing vessel, over the long voyage, can outdistance any galley ever floated by man, but, with a fifty or more men at the stroke, the long ships were exceedingly fast until both the breath and sinews of oar pullers gave out - usually no more than a few stadia.

  Both Barsa and Patroclus appeared on deck, to see the crew as they ladled buckets of water over the deckboards to wash away the red life fluid of their recent unwanted visitors. Measuring the distance and the pace of the following galley, the Captain turned and called, "Melglos!" The man looked up and saw the wave to approach. "I would have you as part of my crew for the nonce." When the Greek reached the stern, he was pointed to the tiller bar. "As you have no need of bladework unless yon reavers gain aboard, take the rudder. It will allow Flavius to work with the rest of the crew." The man just nodded and stood to take the pole in hand.

  To the pair of weaponless men in the waist, he called, "Patroclus. Bring a basket from the wood holder." The Sage nodded, disappearing back into the hold.

  Now, the cleaning done, and the deck-boards beginning to dry in the breeze already, the men casuall
y wandered to the stern to stand in watch of the approaching galley. Barsa, however, came back with some haste. "Kapetánios," he said, not taking his eyes off the laboring ship, still closing with goodly way on the hull, "Will yon raiders be... of difficulty." He did not appear frighted in any way, merely concerned in a situation of which he had no cognizance.

  The Captain had set his shield against the side strakes, picking up his own bow and casually stringing it as he answered. "Galleys are as serpents. If they strike out of the mist or darkness, and with suddenness, a ship may find itself holed and boarded before the alarm can even be sounded. But, in chase, they have much less advantage." He looked around at his men, all now standing with clear watch on the approaching reaver, then said with a wry smile, "Including the fact that the men on the oars are facing their own stern, and not their mark."