Insurgent of Rome

by Ken Farmer

  "They would be more as rats leaving a burning building," said Melglos, having walked to the afterdeck. The big Thracian was beyond botherment by his wound, it now only a redden scar of no harm. "Suddenly, the idea had come that another venue might be less uncomfortable than remaining in a port about to receive the wrath of an engaged King." He looked at Julius. "The bástardos may make a northly run overland for Tarsus. He has a goodly presence in that city."

  "Aye," replied the Captain. "But such would take him further from his alleged champion, Tigranes, and leave him to move into unfamiliar land if he was pursued further. Nay, the Sage is correct. He will set his course to the south for Tyre. His holdings are as great there as in Antioch, and he can make for the safety of his kingly friend, if needed."

  Julius had expected this to be the morning that Antiochus made his intrusion into the port, and the evidence of their eyes gave goodly indication that such was happening. They watched as ship followed another, the Captains fleeing what had to be considerable strife in the port. Most would be just innocent merchant ships, plying the seas in their trade, and unwilling to enter a conflict for which most would not understand the reason.

  But one vessel, should it put to sea, would have less innocence.

  "Capitaneus! The spectrum boat comes." The shout from Ngozi brought all to the sinister rail to look across the after quarter. "It shows the red streamer!"

  Julius turned and barked, "Kaeso! Bring us to a southern course! Centurion, send your men below to stations." He waited until the ship had made the quarter turn, slowly as the ragged and torn sail spilled more wind than it captured, then continued with his orders. "Ngozi, Melglos, take your places. All others, this ship was sorely wounded by the storm and none have time to gawk overboard."

  At the foot of the mast was a pile of sailcloth brought from the rag locker. As a sail, it was long useless, having worn out its goodness in past voyages and now used only for patching. But, spread on the deck, it would give a point to the furious activity of the crew. At least, Julius hoped for such effect.

  "Judoc! Add two arm lengths of slack to the mainline." In a few moments, the ragged sail was even more loose and flapping, looking as if barely usable after being stretched and torn by some massive wind. And such was truthsome, although the storm that had given the damage was two seasons ago. In actual fact, the tempest of the last night was shrugged off with contempt by both ship and crew, any storm needing far more fierceness than was displayed in the darkness to bring evil to the Petrel.

  But, mayhap such would not be known by any that approached.

  Now Julius could see the evil reason for their plots and scheming. The vessel was far away, barely outside the confines of the port, but it could be seen as the two masted merchant ship that they had encountered once before, and had seen on various occasions. The only question now, was if it would turn south or make for some other destination. If the latter, Julius still had a plan, but it would be far more complicated and easy of failure.

  He could see Decimus, in the little missive boat, surging along the coastline, already past the Petrel and soon to be gone from sight. The mission of the speculatoria was finished for now, having given notice that their quarry had stood out of port. At the thought, he snorted to himself. At the moment, the designations of prey and predator were not yet determined.

  The crew was still standing by the pile of cloth, doing little as yet. The distance between the two vessels was much too far to make out any individuals, far less as to any activity, but hopefully that would change rapidly. He took another look around and above. The Petrel certainly gave the appearance of a ship, if not in dire need, then of one that would require several days of carpenter work in a shipyard to be brought back to rights. And with only five men apparently in the crew, it might appear as an easy plum to pick. Especially, by men who had past reason to resent the crew that would be manning the wounded vessel.

  The airs were still of lesser strength than usual, but were blowing directly from the north. With the ragged sail, the Petrel was barely making the pace of a walking man and the two-masted vessel on the horizon should close the distance within the hour.

  Kaeso pointed back across the stern. "You might have been the principal that was giving the orders to yon hulk. They are turning south just as in your plan."

  Julius gave a wry frown, then said with some drollness. "If so, then it is almost the only scheme that has come to fruition in this misbegotten voyage." He waved at the waist of the ship. "Put the crew to work."

  At a call, the men began to pull the sailcloth, moving it here and there for no reason. Other pieces were placed in as patches for the massive rives in the fabric. Of course, no such stitching would take place, both Densus and Judoc were more likely to sew their fingers together than make any seam of use in the cloth. In the stern, Flavius was hammering on an innocent plank, in obvious intensity of need to make hasty repairs. Kaeso, roamed the deck, pointing uselessly at this need and that, giving orders that were totally ignored.

  Julius, was on the rudder, with little effort needed as the Petrel was being blown downwind more by the effect of airs on the hull than the tattered sail. His thoughts were in furious work, however, and measured by an occasional glance in the distance beyond their wake. As Kaeso walked back to the stern in his act as frantic Captain of an injured ship, Julius asked, "Flavius knows the importance of his first action over any other need?"

  "Aye. Densus has been told to give watch should the Carpenter fall, and move in haste to make the throw."

  Julius nodded, then said, "And you give watch on myself, for the same reason."

  Some of the barriers had been raised at the early morning light, that such actions would not be seen in a close encounter. The low wooden wall in the forepeak, and the one guarding the rudder man were raised, as was a single one in the waist, sufficient to give cover to Densus and Judoc if needed. The many others were still laying on the deck, unused. The effect was to give the ship an even more ragged appearance, as few beyond the crew would know of their actual use. But, the raisable barriers had been of value many times in the past, giving the crew of the ship both cover from arrows and a secure place to launch their own shafts.

  "I believe that yon ship has taken our enticement. Give word to the men below." The Petrel would, of course, be well known by Dionysophanes and his man, Ardeshir. And as a vessel of men who had given balk to his desires and violent departure to several of his men. And even besides the familiar outline of a ship that had made many visits to the port of Antioch, there was the black-barred streamer at the head of the mast to give assurance of identity. To find it limping along and with a diminished crew would be an irresistible mark for a man no doubt even now in rage at the happenings in the port - happenings that would give severe setback to his plans of aggrandizement.

  The time passed, almost the half hour as the vessel bore down on the smaller ship. Glancing back, Julius could now see men gathered along the railing in wait. Kaeso, on another of his pacing along the deck, stopped and said, "I see no archers along the beam."

  Julius nodded. "Aye. They do not wish our deaths to be swift, but only after much discussion on board yon vessel." Still, such weapons could not be discounted. Cupping his hands as a speaking cone, he called to all along the deck, "They will be in range shortly. We see no bowmen, but keep a weather eye out for any shafts that wish to board."

  Shortly the distance closed to such that both he and Judoc could have begun an evil harvest of the men in wait along the railing but the remaining would just shelter from the inflight of arrows. There was too much chance of the Captain either turning away, with the mis-trimmed Petrel unable to give chase, or the larger vessel closing the distance to give ram of the smaller. Either would throw his carefully made plan into chaos.

  Gauging the distance, he nodded to Kaeso who immediately began to shout orders to the three men on the deck. They ran here and there, pulling on ropes in attempt to taut the sail and pull it to the optimum sla
nt. It made little difference, but gave a fine picture of a ship in panic of need to avoid an enemy in approach. He saw head of the Centurion, the eyes just barely peering over the coping of the rear scuttle, looking back at the Captain. Julius gave a quick nod and said, "They are fifty strides away. Stand to." The head disappeared.

  Now, rather than just holding the rudder haft to keep the ship on a downwind course, he carefully watched the other ship. It was of much importance that the ships hove together at the waists, rather than being boarded by the stern or the after quarter. He would need to steer the Petrel that such joining would happen. The natural curves of both vessels would mean that only a small length of the beams could be used for boarding, else a man would need to leap over a considerable length of gap - and with evil results if he failed to make the distance, falling into the water and sinking into the domain of Neptune.

  He could see two men, at either end of the two-masted ship, waiting with their throwing hooks, that their quarry would be well tethered for their need. It was with some relief that he saw that the Captain was apparently unwilling to have both hulls grind together to the disuse of both - the other vessel was giving approach in a way that indicated that a violent collision was not planned.

  The men of the Petrel had ceased their false work, now picking up or pulling their weapons to the ready. It would have giving a falseness of view had they not - any man seeing threat approach would naturally take arms. The sudden stance did not seem to give affright to the men waiting to board from the larger vessel, as the numbers would seem to be vastly unequal - looking to be five to the one of their quarry. Or more.

  Kaeso shouted for the men to leave the waist, moving to the stern where they gathered in their small group of four - all but Flavius, who moved to the peak of the bow. This was planned also, that they not be immediately swamped by a horde jumping into the ship when they met. Julius could see that the vessels would indeed touch at the center beams, alleviating that worry. Now the timing of his orders would be critical. Too soon and the surprise would be ineffective and any delay would have the Petrel swamped before a defense could be made.

  The first mate was fingering his strideo, and without realization of his nervous action. The whistle had been borrowed from the Centurion that the command would be heard even over any clamor by their visitors. Julius was watching carefully, both for timing and any sudden appearance of a bowman sent to mark down the man at the rudder - a common practice for any reavers who wished to put their quarry into disarray. He hoped that the failure of the smaller ship to frantically turn aside was not given wonder by the Captain of yon assaulter.

  There was a shout, giving the order to the two men standing with the grapnels. Together the irons flew across the separation, one falling to grab the wooden barrier of the Petrel at the stern and the other the forepeak beam coping. With several men on the lines, the two ships were heaved together in a few heartbeats. At the center, men leapt down from the larger vessel to the smaller, a drop of only a little more than a man-length. Watching intently, and with pulse roaring in his ears, Julius made gauge of the assault, then as the first assailants picked themselves up from their jump, barked to Kaeso. "Now!"

  The wind of the first mate was enhanced by the vision of men swarming down from the larger ship - the whistle might have been heard half the distance to Rome, such was its ear-piercing shriek. Ngozi - at the forward scuttle - was the first to appear, instantly followed by Melglos at the stern opening. Immediately behind each of them came a line of men, garbed in red-tinted leather, helmets and the strapped skirts unique to a Legion - the petruges. More importantly, each had a full sized Roman scutum, the shield giving protection from neck to ankle, and the deadly short sword of the Legionary - the gladius. In the days before, Flavius had replaced the ladders in both scuttles with wider steps, the easier for an encumbered man to quickly climb to the deck.

  Rather than instantly move forward to engage, the soldiers moved aside to form a line across the width of the ship - two lines, one aft and the other forward. Ten men in each formation, side by side with interlocked shields giving a solid wall of protection. It had been practiced in the previous days while Julius and his party were roaming the countryside, although the assaulting ship had been the merchant of Capitaneus Fundanus. Many different deployments from below deck were tried, then either rejected or improved until they had made decision on the most effective.

  This day - this fraction of an hour would tell the tale of success or failure. The complement of both ships were about equal, but one had armed ruffians and the other, veteran soldiers trained to fight together. As the Centurion shouted his order to advance, Julius stooped to pick up the rope and grapnel, then whirling it to throw the short distance across the waters. Flavius, hopefully, was doing the same, forward. Now the smaller ship had its own capture of the aggressor, obviating any possibility of the other Captain attempting to disengage.

  Of course, the crew of the larger vessel could cut the lines, and might attempt to do so as the surprise of their plight began to fade and the realization came that they had been cozened into attacking a ship that appeared to be deceptively vulnerable. Such attempts were the concern of Julius, as he stooped to take his bow and quiver. As the Legionaries began to hack at the stunned boarders, he and Judoc began to release arrows high and onto the big ship as fast as they could be placed on the string. The range was so negligible that even a young puerulus, using a stick-bow and the purloined hair ribbon of a sister as string, could have hit his mark with ease. In less time than a thirsty man could empty his cup, any man near the railing fore and aft was struck down, the shafts hitting with such force that most continued through the body and beyond, unless a point struck bone.

  The undoing of the men who had boarded the Petrel, was the natural reaction to reclaim their position on their own vessel. The two lines of soldiers stepped forward, closing as if the powerful jaws of a lion, and their gladii had easy play into the backs of men frantically attempting to climb to the higher hull. Quickly, the three handfuls of men who had leaped to the deck of the Petrel were slain. It was more as a slaughter of cattle than a military action.

  While descending to the deck of the smaller ship from the larger was fairly easy, the return was an entirely different matter. In their practice against the merchant ship of Capitaneus Fundanus, the usual rope ladder had been tried. Such could be scaled by a sailor with the ease that they once climbed onto the laps of their Mothers as infants, but with heavily armed and armored soldiers, the use was quickly seen to be unworkable. The comical effect of a Legionary hanging by his arms and swinging as if a haunch of meat in a smoke-shed was laughable - in training. In actual battle, it would be fatal.

  Again, Flavius had constructed another short ladder with wide rungs and sturdy rails - actually more as steps than ladder. Now, both Melglos and Ngozi hefted the device from its place on the deck, then moved in haste to lean it against the assailant hull. With the difference in height, none on the Petrel could see across the deck of the larger ship, but with both Julius and Judoc standing with wood on the string, they gave cover for the black man and the Thracian as they swarmed up the ladder. No heads appeared to give resistance as the two gained the upper deck, followed by the Centurion and the line of soldiers. The absence of any attempt to repel the boarders at the railing was a mistake - if the third part of a Century of veteran Legionaries were allowed to gain their formation on the deck above, the assailants were doomed.

  And so they were. Of necessity, Julius could not follow until the line of soldiers had climbed, and by then the battle above was over - a few men in the stern on their knees in supplication of quarter. It was given, he having given fierce emphasis that only men in active engagement were to be slain, and giving strict orders to Centurion Drusus that his men were not to assume the rage of blood-lust, so often entered by men in battle. It was not care of Julius for the ruffians of Dionysophanes, but rather of the desire that the man himself be spared - for future discussio
n.

  And indeed he had been. Julius could see the merchant himself standing behind his kneeling men on the afterdeck, beyond the leveled swords of the Legionaries, but his eyes were in search for another. With bodies laying around the deck, and half the soldiers below in search of skulkers, he walked over to where Ngozi and Melglos were standing. The stain on both swords and garb gave full indication that both had done more than merely climb the ladder to guard the upper deck as the soldiers made their climb. To the black man, Julius just said a single word, "Ardeshir?" The answer did not come as words, but a tilt of the head and a nod. At the base of the forward mast was a man, or a semblance of one. Actually, it resembled a body about as a haunch of meat over a fire gave imitation to a bovine. Missing the head, an arm and with most of his belly strewn over the wooden planks, Julius could only take the word of his crewman that this was the cruel sword-hand and Captain of Dionysophanes.