Insurgent of Rome

by Ken Farmer

  It was with some hidden amusement that Julius regarded the young miscreant. Such was something that he might have tried in his youth, had he not been placed in life to fulfill his need to journey. Still, this was not a trading mission, and might be as perilous a voyage as could be made by any. The boy would be useless - nay, a hindrance should the ship have need of defense.

  But, the youngster had done what he had done, and the ship certainly could not come around for the return of a mere boy. His fate was bound with the crew to the end. But, in the interests of both discipline for the ship - and the boy - the Captain had need to express his displeasure. An expression of scowl was useless in the dim light, but he made his displeasure known with both tone and intensity of voice. "Did you think on what you were doing, boy? And the burden on others that have given a place to an urchin of the streets? That the Dominus might even now be scouring the port in succor of the youngster that he thinks might have been taken by degenerates for their use? And the Carpenter who has given you instruction that you might take a trade, rather than sleeping on the cobblestones of some street for your mat?" Wisely, the boy said nothing, merely holding his head low in either real or feigned rueness.

  The Capitaneus paused in his anger - only partially feigned. Then, "Very well. You wish to gain instruction as a man of my crew. Then, know that such Tyros begin in the bilge, rather than the after deck." To the cook, he said, "Put our unfledged sailor to good use. At first light, after his assistance with the break of our fast, he can give empty to the bilge - and to the last drop of water. Then, to any need of the ship, given goodly instruction that to man a ship is not to play, but to work."

  "Aye, Capitaneus." The tone of the rotund man was with harshness, but such that the amusement and understanding was apparent. Pontiki might well regret replacing the ease of life in Capua with the labor of a ship's boy, but Julius realized that, to a youngster condemned to a life on the streets of a city without either genitors or protectors of any kind, even the toil of work as Densus would put him to might be as if given transport to the wondrous fields of Elysium.

  Chapter 13

  Julius looked up to make sure the crossed pendant was whipping free in the wind, giving the identity to their ship in the proposed convergence with the pirate ship. Of course, this was giving assumption that such would actually appear from the land on the dexter beam. In far less than the month, the Petrel had coursed across the Great Sea, seldom coming within sight of land, but touching at the western end of the island of Crete as if following a marked road in Latium.

  Which, in a way it was - the pilotage skills of Patroclus could be claimed by a lesser god of the sea as his own. Thrice each day, the Sage counted the time taken by the thrown stick to pass from the forepeak to the rudder post, making his marks on his papyrus, then using some arcane numbering to figure their gain in distance. At night, he would use a single star on the horizon to gage the difference between the waves and their course, to allow for any push to leeward - again, adding numbers to his script, and merging those into his figuring. Those, and the rising and setting positions of the sun, a knowledge of passage of such since the last equinox, all were squeezed for juice by the skilled navigator in his reckoning.

  With the intermediate destination in sight, the pointing of the Sage was no longer necessary. They had merely to follow the coast until the opposite end of the huge island was reached, the pinnacle that pointed east. Here they were to be accosted by a messenger from the pirates, to gain instruction for delivery of the ransom.

  Thus far, this morning, nothing had been seen other than a few fishers and a merchant ship far out on the horizon and quickly disappearing below it. At the moment, all on board were standing in watch to the land, in anticipation of their next...

  "Sail away, Capitaneus!" This was from Ngozi, standing in a loop of rope about a third part of the way up the mast. "Pointing to us."

  Julius needed give no cautioning orders to such a crew. All were accoutered for battle, and with their bows and a plethora of shafts laying to hand. This was not the first possible peril they had encountered as a crew, although the circumstances were unique. Should yon vessel be a band of free rovers, come to ask for a share of the silver, all would be ready to give denial.

  "A merchant vessel, Capitaneus," said Kaeso. "No doubt taken in their reaving."

  "There is the signal, Capitaneus," shouted Flavius from the rudder. As agreed in the original message from the pirates, the craft raised a pole on which were two streamers - a black above a white.

  Julius looked around to see that his crew was still at alert. They had not survived the many tribulations on the Great Sea by giving unnecessary assumptions. None had moved, still standing at their posts and at the ready.

  Finally, the ship, approaching from windward, turned to give pace with the Petrel and in easy hailing distance. They saw a man, standing in the stern, cup hands to his mouth and shout, "Halloo, Roman! Have you tribute to give the Nesoi?"

  Julius nodded to Patroclus, who bellowed back in his native tongue of the Greek lands, "Aye! To salve the rages of Poseidon!" Those also were give and take signals, again to make authentication between deliverer and receiver. According to the Sage, Nesoi referred to some clan of obscure goddesses of these domains and with a saga that involved their god of the sea, Poseidon.

  Again the shout between cupped hands. "Follow! We move about thirty leagues to our meeting!"

  The Sage merely waved and Julius shouted the commands to set trim to follow the small boat, now turning about and moving at the edge of the eye of the wind. Now he asked, "What think you of the course?"

  The old Greek replied, "North of Crete is a myriad of islands, unnamed and uninhabited. Their lair is obviously on one such." He shook his head. "My maps and scrolls do not even begin to show the extent of such, other than the larger."

  Julius was thinking furiously, then said, "Continue your pilotage as best you can. We might wish to find their den in the future."

  Night fell, cloudy but still with some diffused light from the moon giving vision over the sea. They had no trouble in maintaining watch on their leader, following a stadia or so in their wake. Occasionally, about on the hour, the ship they were following would tack to the other slant, giving them an overall course of almost due north. Morning had gained them a distance of mayhap ten leagues, or to a Roman, about three hundred stadia. The Petrel was a vastly better sailer than the clumsy merchant. Where the pirates had the full extent of cloth hoisted, their follower was spilling wind so as to not overtake the slower ship.

  "Your pardon, Capitaneus." Julius turned to see Pontiki, standing with respect and waiting for permission to speak.

  "Aye, boy, what is your need?"

  The youngster turned and pointed aft. "A sail, Sos. And I have seen it on other days. Always in trail with our course, but far away." The lad's Latini was becoming very good - with accent of course, but his diction was now understandable by all, unless confronted with an unknown word now and again.

  "You have goodly eyes, boy. And a goodly stoop on your chine to notice your surroundings. Such is the way that one survives at sea." Now he looked aft, also. "Aye, yon boat has been following us since we quit the land of Latium. But, give it no worry, as yet."

  "Land to the sinister bow." This shout came from forward. "Three handspans off."

  "Is that our destination?" wondered Kaeso, walking up to the rudder post.

  Patroclus looked to gauge the course of the leading boat, then replied, "It does not appear so, and certainly not if their measure of thirty leagues is of correctness - we have made only a third of that distance as yet. And, they could easily slant into landfall from our course, but they make no change of pointing."

  Shortly the answer was made. The island was a mere speck in the sea - a rocky outcropping without greenery showing of any kind. Long and irregular of outline, a man could walk from end to end with only a few more than a thousand long strides - assuming that he could move at all over what
seemed to be nothing but a jumble of huge rocks. The Sage made a small spot on his map, and some notation on another scroll, then said, "Such would be useless as an encampment, other than for an overnight refuge. The only water would be from rain and yon stones would make for poor farming."

  It was obvious that the leading boat had only used the small island as a point of mark, as they now turned to the eastern edge of the wind's eye and maintained that course without further tack. Now the Sage pointed to his map board. "We are only about two hundred and fifty stadia south of the island of Astypalaia. Here." He pointed to another small spot on the papyrus.

  "Know you of it?" asked Julius.

  "Aye, but only from script. It is small but habitable, with little use other than giving place to succor voyagers in a blow. Still, it may be our destination." He looked at the boat they were following, still about a stadium ahead. "We will know within the hour if they move to the opposite tack."

  "Is there a port at such?"

  "Nay, Capitaneus. The island is far too diminutive to support other than a few fishermen. And mayhap a few goat herders."

  The sea was still devoid of any but the two ships, even though all continually scanned the horizon for any such. In actuality, only the windward side and forward was of any concern. Julius doubted that any galley would be in these waters and a sailing vessel could not make a course upwind for any attempt at closure. The waters behind were of even less worry. A stern chase is a long pursuit, and few ships with sails could even begin to follow the Petrel under full cloth, far less gain on the vessel.

  In the midday watch came the call again from forward. "Land ahead! Directly forward!"

  The men at the stern could see only the faintest shadow on the horizon, but in less than the half hour it was revealed as another island, and not one of great size. At the question of the Sage, the old Greek shook his head. "Nay, Capitaneus. My maps are blank, in the main, for these reaches. All I can say is that we are about half the way between Crete and the coast of Rhodes."

  Julius nodded absently. "Rhodes? Aye, that might be of some convenience."

  "Sos?" The Sage was looking with question, since there had been no discussion of touching at that port for any reason.

  "Nay. Just given reign to my thoughts." Now he shouted to the men forward, "Spill some air! Yon guide-boat is slowing its pace! Kaeso! A man in the bow for the lead at the ready." Julius knew that the deep keel fin of the Petrel needed a man's height between hull and bottom.

  The first mate waved a salute, then gave instruction for Ngozi to post himself at the rudder, relieving Flavius to measure the depth of the water at command. The Carpenter was the only man on the ship besides the two officers and the Sage who could give count beyond the number of their digits.

  The guide-boat gained the other tack to allow for follow along the western edge of the island, about two stadia away from the coastline. They could see that, again, this was just a spot on the sea, although considerably larger than the little island used as a marker, earlier in the day. In full length, from what they could measure from mere looking, the distance from end to end could not be more than ten stadia. At least, north to south.

  But, unlike the barren rock of earlier, this small land had greenery, if not towering trees - nor any of size. Still, if this was the permanent lair of the pirates, then even this tiny island had to have a source of water.

  Suddenly, an indention appeared in the land, and quickly became a long narrow cove, reaching back into the island to the south. The small boat pulled its sail to no more than a mere remnant, quickly followed by the Petrel. As the wind was flowing directly into the cove, the push on the hull of the ship would suffice for a slow entry, especially as Julius had no intention of gaining the shore until further knowledge was found.

  And, they could see a ship at anchor and at least another half-part larger than the Petrel. Ahead, the guide ship of the pirates dropped its cloth and hove out the anchor only a stone's throw from the other.

  "No bottom at forty pous!" came the call from Flavius, at the lead line.

  "Ngozi! Melglos! On the forward stone! At my command!" This was Kaeso, preparing for their anchoring.

  "Bottom at thirty and three!"

  The little cove - it could hardly be called a harbor - was only about two stadia long and less than one wide. But, being long and narrow, it was a goodly refuge for a ship, giving excellent shelter for any weather from any bearing except due north.

  "Thirty and less two!"

  They could see men at the far end of the cove, many of them indeed. But whether pirates or prisoners could not be determined. The Captain looked along the shore - both of them - less than a hundred strides on either beam. He could see no skiffs or flatboats or any such craft that would allow for the Petrel to be stormed and boarded. There were at least three at the far end of the cove, but such was to be expected. It was obvious that the bottom shallowed quickly at the shoreline, as the big pirate ship was anchored a long arrow shot into the water.

  "Five and twenty pous!"

  This was far enough. He waved to the first mate, who gave the command for the pair of crewmen to heave the anchor stone over the bow. As it settled into the bottom, and the rope began to tighten, the Petrel slowly swung around to point the bow into the wind. Further into the cove, Julius watched the pirate ship drop their own anchor-stone and close to the shore. Either the rise of the land from the bottom was steep or the boat had little keel. Or, mayhap, the ground had been dug away from the piers to allow for such to wharf.

  "They are keen on their desire for payment." Kaeso was pointed to a considerable number of men standing near the little wharf, and several more entering a small skiff.

  Julius turned to Patroclus. "Take a count of the men you can see. Such might have value at a future time."

  Now turning to face down the length of the ship he called, "Our hosts are about to arrive. Maintain your watchful stance, but do not give animus with blades unless on my call." Then, "Boy!" He waved for Pontiki to approach with haste. As the youngster ran up to stand for his orders, Julius said, "I am giving your first duty as a crewman. The safety of the ship may depend on your actions."

  Now, with wide eyes, the boy nodded vigorously. "You have your pugio? And it is sharp?" Julius knew that he did and it was. Even the youngest crewman on a ship needed a small blade for even the slightest tasks, including the carving his meal. At the nod, he continued. "Take a stance at the forward anchor line. If I wave, thus, or call, then cut the rope and with haste. If we have need of departing, then the safety of the ship will depend on your action to give us release. Now, go." He had little reason to believe in the possible need to flee from the far destination given by their commission, but he and his ship and men were still on the mortal side of the river Styx due to his always giving assumption to the irregularity of the fates in their beneficence. His gauge of the wind gave belief that they could - barely - reach the opening of the cove on a single tack.

  Julius smiled as the boy ran to his new duty station. Pontiki had accepted the discipline for his illicit boarding of the ship, doing the regimen of scut-work with goodly aspect. Once again, he reminded himself that condemning a starving street-boy to give work on a ship in travel to adventure was no punishment whatsoever - indeed, no task given to him on the voyage - no matter how repulsive or odious - had removed the satisfaction of his new life from the demeanor of the boy.

  But now the youngster was forgotten as the Captain watched the small flatboat approach. Five men were in the boat, with two on the sculls and three as passengers. The wildly dressed man standing at the peak - short bearded in the Greek fashion - was the leader of the band, no doubt, but behind him had to be the noble that was the cause of the entire expedition. Gaius Julius Caesar was almost the age of himself, short a pair of years or so. A young man of little wealth, due to the machinations of the Roman General, Sulla, but of much charm apparently. Any man who could gain fifty talents of silver from friends, in measure of his
release from captivity, was one with more than a modicum of allure to his life.

  The man was tall - as tall as himself, although with less bulk to his body. Clean shaven, as were most Romans who had not reached the age of dotage, and well-garbed, he certainly did not look the part of a craven prisoner. One might almost mistake him as the Commander of the little boat - he was pointing and speaking to the assumed leader as they approached the stern of the Petrel.