Insurgent of Rome

by Ken Farmer

  The fisherman had eyes only for the coin - a value worth more than his boat. Indeed, more than the vessel and the catch that it would take in the time of an entire season. Finally, he said, "Yon vessel would not be of plundering voyagers?"

  Julius hesitated at the words in a tongue with heavy accent and a man with no learning, finally deciphering them as a question of reavers. He shook his head, then said with some emphasis, "Nay. I am a merchant Kapetánios in need of gaining my own vessel. I have received word that they wait off the point of the..." He stopped, furiously trying to remember the word for peninsula, then replaced it with, "...the jutting point of land to the south."

  The man turned to have a short conversation with the elder boy, there being some argument as to whether the repairs were satisfactory, but Julius could see nothing but some whitened wood that apparently had just been replaced. The offer of gold was paramount, with the man accepting the coin then giving wave and commands to push the hull into the water. At the gesture, Julius stepped into the boat, moving to sit away from the work of the three as they poled out a few strides, then raised the tattered sail.

  As sailors, the three were competent enough, although to not have been would have been a total surprise about men and boy who had spent almost half their lives on the water. The wind was good and the little craft hove out of the small harbor with little effort. As they passed the southern edge of the port, rounding the land to see the short peninsula in the distance, Julius stood to the mast, holding with one hand as he scanned the horizon. There were several boats - fishers without doubt - but nothing else as yet, but he did not expect his destination to be seen so soon.

  He turned to the father of the crew, then asked, "You have fished these waters muchly?"

  The man, with his hand on the tiller handle, answered in his strange accent. "Aye. And my Patéras and Pappoús before me."

  Julius nodded, then said, "The big ship with the two masts. You have seen it?" At the nod, he asked, "How often does it stand in to Persidium?"

  The Captain of the little vessel, stared for a moment, apparently giving attempt at the unaccustomed need of examining his memory, then said, "Mayhap twice in a season." A pause, then, "If you are in wish of giving custom to the vessel, I would give halt to the need. There is some foulness in that hull that bodes ill for any honest man. None of the port will treat with the tamías ploíou of that vessel, who gives short weights and debased coin." Julius assumed he meant the officer of the vessel that purchased the stores and foodstuffs for a voyage. The man gave a glance back into the harbor, now disappearing around the spit of land. "...and threats to any who give complaint about the deficiency."

  Julius nodded, as if learning something unknown. "I have heard it called a ship of peiratés."

  The man barked a command to a son, who pulled the sail to a new pointing, then answered, "I know nothing of their trade, but no merchant vessel puts to sea with thrice the need of men, as do they."

  Again, the nod, even though Julius knew of the overmanned state of the ship. But, his attention was on the horizon, and a white shape. He pointed and said, "There. Point for yon sails. I would give that such is my destination."

  Indeed, in a while the white spot resolved itself into a ship - not a fishing vessel - and with a much smaller boat in company. He knew that this was the Petrel and the speculatoria - waiting just as given in the scrap of papyrus that he had been given in the inn.

  Seeing a small vessel pointed toward them, the crew of the large ship knew that it would be the approach of their leader, turning to run down to close the distance. Very shortly the Petrel hove into the wind, allowing the more nimble craft to approach closely enough for the crew to throw down the end of a knotted rope. As Julius stepped to grab the bitter end, he handed a Greek double-Stater to the fisherman. "My gratitude, Kurios. May your nets alway be full."

  In a few heartbeats he was standing on the deck of his own ship - gaining a sudden sense of satisfaction at the return to normalcy. With great relief he saw Melglos grinning from his place of rest, on a mat and leaning against the mast. Pontika was also giving a wide smile as she came to embrace him as he approached. "By the gods," he exclaimed to the big Thracian. "Yourself and the Sage give credence to the fact that men from your domain are indestructible." Looking down, he japed, "And you, Korí. One can only wonder at the skills of a female that you have displayed." He looked at Ngozi, standing beside the mat and apparently with little remaining of his wounds, although he still sported a band of cloth to give protection to a deeper cut. "My dark friend, you are gaining your strength, it would appear."

  "Aye," came the reply through a wide grin. "And ready to discuss matters with the whoresons of yon putrid port."

  Julius looked around, seeing Flavius but not his recent mate. Turning to Kaeso, he asked, "Maccalus?"

  The first officer waved vaguely across the waves. "Back aboard the ship of Fundanus. And whole of body," he added. "And yourself, Capitaneus?"

  "Thus far, unpunctured. But... There are tales from many directions to be told, but not here." He looked across the water at the speculatoria, sail barely showing as it paced with the Petrel, it showing only a rag of cloth to the wind. Decimus could be clearly seen, giving notice that he too was back in his place. Turning to the first mate, he ordered, "Set all canvas on a course to Salamis."

  The orders given, the ship was soon heeling to the wind, moving west at a goodly pace, led by the little missive ship. The voyage of a day would be put to use, filling his need to know of certain events...

  He had missed his break of fast for the morning, and after a good meal, made by Densus and served by the girl, he walked to sit beside the Thracian. With Pontika in crosslegged sit on the mat, he began to ask his questions. The crew had heard the tale, with no need now to listen and either saw to their duties or relaxed in a group for the usual sailor-gab.

  Looking around to see that the ship was underway with competence - a mere habit, rather than any slightest worry that his crew was slacking - he said to the big Thracian, "You vanished that day as if Zeus had spirited you to his realm."

  "Aye, but the vanishment was almost to Hades, not the Elysian Fields" Thus he began his tale, interspersed with comments by the young Korí. "As you will remember, we left you at the sleeping quarters to pass the hours with some walk around the island, looking at the statues and temples and such..."

  Chapter 29

  "...there, just beyond the statue of Atremis. The walls with the sun-color of brick." Both Melglos and Pontika were together, looking over the city from one of the many towers around the island of Royals. The compound was almost deserted, at least by comparison to what it would become with a King in residence. In actuality, probably a hundred servants and slaves were present, but with the size of the island, such a number was as a single nut in a market basket. They could not wander through the Palace proper, but few other edifices within the compound were barred to their inspection - indeed, most buildings were empty of both people and property.

  The pair wandered together in the day, both being from this land, with the same tongue and with ease of converse with each other. As the big Thracian had never been to Antioch, other than as a fugitive with little interest in gandering the sights, the Korí was giving point to this interesting part and that. As the sun was high, and with much warmth, they had not climbed to the upper platform but satisfied themselves by remaining in the level just below the top. The view was little diminished through the large and wide openings, their wooden covers hinged outward for the season.

  Looking at the large merchantry that the girl had pointed out, the Melglos asked, "Your Mitéra passed to the Elysian Fields after your birth, as you said, but were there other paidiá in your home? Any adelphoi or adelfés besides yourself, mayhap?"

  The girl shook her head. "There was an older sibling, but he was taken before my memories formed. His name was Asius, according to my nursemaid, but my Patéras never spoke of the boy or his demise. I came to learn
that speaking of my brother was painful for his remembrance." She pointed again, "Across from the house, is the bread-maker - the little building with the white roof...there. Perimedes was a goodly friend to our family and he always had a warm crust, fresh from his stove, for myself and my..."

  She stopped her discourse, and in sudden surprise as Melglos suddenly spun on his heel, pulling his sword even as he turned. Her startlement turned to wide-eyed fright at the sight of two men - guardsmen, who had just appeared from the steps leading up from below. And with weapons leveled and in stance.

  Melglos shoved the girl violently toward one corner of the square room, as he stepped sideways toward another. The Thracian was at a major disadvantage, having no shield. His sword was typical of this land, longer than the gladii of the Roman Legions, but still with much less reach than the long spears now pointing at him.

  The men were not novices, and such would not be expected to be found in a Palace guard, supposedly made of elite and trained soldiers. Both moved apart, to take their quarry from two directions and give assurance that one thrust might be parried, but not both if made at once. Melglos found his place in the corner, his back against the joining of the stones of the wall, sword still high and his sinews set to almost iron-hard tension as he waited for the thrusts. The two men had separated fully, now each next to a wall as they paused. "Yield, Kurios!" said one suddenly. "Yield and you do not have to die, this day!"

  One of the men might have caught the sudden action out of the corner of his eye, but the man with his back to the Korí had no chance of either seeing, or avoiding the sudden blow. Pontika, gaining her feet after the massive push that threw her to the far side of the room, had taken in hand the pole - leaning in the corner - that was used to both push and pull the large shutters that could cover the openings in the stone walls. A martial weapon it was not, but even in the hands of a girl, a wooden pole, longer than she was, and swung overhead as if a massive chop of an axe, was not to be shaken off as if a mere cuff.

  The sudden shattering of the wood over the helmet of the guardsman was sufficient to drop him to his knees. Melglos instantly took advantage of the startlement of the man, leaping to bat the iron haft of the spear aside, then kicking out with a foot as his blade attempted to parry the lunge of his companion.

  His foot made goodly strike, impacting the head of the stunned man with enough force that the helmet flew across the room, to spin around on the floor. His blade did not have such fortune, only deflecting the thrust of the experienced spearman as the long weapon drew a red trail across his ribs. That lunge, however, brought Melglos into reach with his sword, and a thrust that would have severed the neck of his opponent had it connected. That it did not was entirely owing to the young sinews of the guardsman. He leaped back as the point of the sword passed a finger-width from his throat, but the impulse action was his undoing. The tower, while tall and with many stories, was short in both width and length, each wooden floor covering only about five strides between the walls. The man, in his backwards leap, crossed a foot over another, to fall with some violence against the wall behind him - or so would he have, had not the street-facing opening been directly behind. With a cry, he toppled backwards over the sill of the opening, to disappear from the view.

  Now, as Melglos pivoted to receive the attack of the first man, he saw the Korí raise the pole again, broken along half its length as it was, bringing it down on the now-bare head. The man collapsed as a bag dropped from the wharf by a porter. In her fierce ragement, she prepared to strike once again, and would have done so had Melglos not quickly moved to stay her hand. "Nay, youngster. Your blow was goodly struck. Our need now is answers, rather than another carcass."

  The wrath had gone from the being of the girl, allowing her eyes to see the rapidly growing stain on the tunic of her companion. "You are wounded!" She pulled the tunic up to look at the deep and ugly gash that extended from front to back of his sinister torso - a cut that was spurting copious amounts of red. With great haste, she pulled her little dagger and used it to cut a long strip of cloth from the tunic of the unconscious man on the floor, and other wider pieces that she folded to make some thickness. Using the long cloth to hold the smaller in place, she tied it around the ribs of Melglos, gaining some grunts from the man as she tightened it to staunch the flow of blood.

  As she finished, he waved away her desire for further inspection of his skin and moved quickly to the wall opening, to gaze downward, knowing the sight that would be waiting. With the height of the tower and nothing but hard street-stones below, no man would survive such a fall. The guardsman was splayed out on the pave, unmoving. With a black oath, he said to the girl, "If he wakes before I return, strike him again."

  Hurrying down the stone steps to the next floor, and the next, until he gained the ground, he stopped at the doorless entry, carefully looking up and down the street for any sign of people - and any with excitement at seeing a man fall from high. Far to the south, he could see a servant or two, entering and leaving the cookery, but no others. Quickly, he grabbed the man by his torso leather, dragging him into the bottom of the tower, then to a far corner.

  With some fear that the other guardsman might awaken and overcome the girl, he hurried up the steps again, but with some difficulty of both breath and sinew. As he gained the level, he saw that their assailant was still senseless. As the girl turned to his entry, he said, "We cannot stay here - this tower is as a trap for conies, unless we wish to leap into the river from the window. Look up and down the street for any other guardsmen, mayhap searching the buildings. And carefully. Do not be seen!" he added.

  She moved to the opening that faced the street far below, slowly raising her head over the sill to look one way and the other, the raising to gain more vision below. She shook her head and said, "I can see servants far down the street, No others." She looked at the man still senseless on the floor. "How did they know we were here? Even were they told to find us, it would take a season for two men to search an island of empty buildings."

  Melglos had briefly pondered the same question, then realized that the pair must have been following them from the servant quarters - either through orders or with some reason of their own. He gave her his thoughts, then lifted himself from the floor - with difficulty - to move and look out the opening that faced the city proper. Directly below was the eastern channel of the river - indeed the wall of the tower abutted to the water itself. Of course, from that height he could see across the city and the many hundreds of citizens in movement in their work or merchantry for the day, but none were within any closeness. The far bank of the river was abutted with the backs of buildings, rather than the usual road that followed a watercourse.

  As Melglos turned from the wall opening, the korí asked, "Should I run to get the Capitaneus?"

  "Nay," replied the Thracian sharply. "We do not know if our friends have been attacked, also. You might be slain just for cause. And we have no idea of the reason for the guardsmen to give accost to us." He looked out over the city, then asked, "We have to find a place to hide."

  "Why would any search for us in this empty... looking post or whatever it is used for?"

  He shook his head. "They will not have to search. The dead man will give them our place as clearly as if he reported to his officer." He pointed. "Look to the street below."

  The meaning of the man was instantly seen. The bright pool of red stood out on the white paving stones as a lamp in a darkened room. And the streaks of the same color made an unmistakable path to the body of the unfortunate who had despoiled the whiteness of the street. She turned and said quickly, "There is a goodsome friend of my family who is the keeper of a pandocheío. Many times his Kóri and I played in the fountain of his courtyard, pretending innocence from the anger of the Mágeiras, looking for her missing sweetmeats in the kitchen. He will give us succor for past friendship with my Patéras."

  Melglos thought for a moment, then nodded and said, "Aye, and a goodsome plan. You shoul
d make for the inn and with haste. I must needs find a closer refuge."

  That plan was obviously not to the liking of the young woman. "Nay, I will not go without you. And why would you not accompany me from this cursed island?"

  He smiled, then with a hand gently placed on her shoulder, said, "There is the matter of the river. I know your water skills to be as if the daughter of Poseidon, but mine are not."