By late in the afternoon, they rolled the sail and rowed around a hook of land. At the back of a large harbor, Koroni filled the landscape. Obviously, an affluent town as demonstrated by the temples Alerio could see from the boat.
“In the center of Koroni is a copper statue of Zeus,” Olek informed Alerio.
“I’d like to see that statue,” Alerio responded.
“Take Olek and your blade with you,” Rehor advised. “Koroni is a launch and landing harbor for towns on the other side of the water. And like any beach, it collects driftwood and wreckage. Some of the wreckage in Koroni is dangerous.”
“But there are women,” Olek cooed.
“I just want to see the statue of Zeus,” Alerio informed him. “I’m not interested in romance.”
“Neither am I,” Olek agreed. “But I do like to eat. And women look at my sad eyes, my flat stomach, and conclude that I need to be fed.”
“If it’s food,” Alerio exclaimed. “I am interested in meeting your woman.”
“Not woman, Sisera,” Olek corrected. “Women, and meals.”
“Olek is our scavenger,” Isyllus informed Alerio. “And he is very good at the task.”
“I take it, I am part of a scheme to feed the crew?” Alerio inquired.
“You are the one who wants to see Zeus,” Filib pointed out.
The Momus glided to the shoreline and the crew splashed into the water. Once the boat was high on the sand, Alerio followed Olek into town.
***
Late in the afternoon, some of the booths and stalls of Koroni’s agorá sat empty. With so many closed, the remaining vendors had customers due to the reduced competition.
“The market is closing for the day,” Alerio pointed to the small groups of women and men moving from stall to stall.
“It’s a perfect part of the day for what I do,” Olek assured him. “You stay here and admire the God of Sky and Thunder. While you are visiting, pray for fair weather for our crossing.”
The green-blue streaks of patina gave Zeus the appearance of standing in an out worldly deluge. Fierce and strong, the copper statue of the god stood at a street leading to several temples. His presence challenged any nonbelievers or barbarians to tread carefully or else, face Zeus’ fury.
But staring at a statue, no matter how mighty, became boring. Knowing that Olek didn’t want any company, Alerio walked to the backside of Zeus and peered around the marble base.
The crewman browsed and chatted with people as he strolled from booth to booth. A pattern emerged when he moved to a third booth. Three women who didn’t talk or associate with one another, engaged with Olek. One would hold an item and solicit his opinion. Another handed him produce and waited for his pronouncement of its weight or quality. Alerio could not decipher which. And the third woman hovered beside Olek as if he were in danger from the other two.
After touring all the open booths, Olek and one of the women stepped away from the other women. As the pair walked from the market, Olek put a hand behind his back and signaled for Alerio to follow.
Four blocks from the market, they came up behind a row of residential houses. Before the couple went into the building, Olek put a hand behind his back and pointed to an alley beside the home. Following directions, Alerio strolled into the lane and stopped.
“Pssst,” Olek whispered from a window. “Take this.”
A big clay pot appeared on the sill. When Alerio touched it, the covered bowl felt hot. But under the influence of the spicy aroma, he ignored the heat and snatched the bowl from the window.
“Take it to the boat,” Olek instructed.
Before Alerio could question the theft, the crewman vanished into the house. Alerio stood confused for a moment before heading to the beach and the Momus.
***
“What have you brought us?” Rehor asked.
The skipper and the other two members of his crew crowded around Alerio.
“It’s beef stew. Thankfully, we have bread for the gravy,” Olek called as he came from town. He raised a sack in the air, shook it, and added. “I hate to eat and run, but I have another appointment.”
The five men sat around the pot dipping bread and munching on chunks of meat and vegetables. Before the others finished, Olek jumped up and walked away.
“Is he always like that?” Alerio asked.
“Not always,” Filib replied. “Sometimes he comes back early and there is no problem. At other times, he is like a feral cat.”
“And that’s a problem?” Alerio questioned.
“We’ll know that when he gets back,” Isyllus proclaimed. “Early to sleep, early to rise, launch the boat, before someone dies.”
“Needs work,” Rehor offered.
“Everyone is a critic,” Isyllus muttered before shoving more stew into his mouth.
***
The moon rested low in the sky, but no hint of the coming sunrise touched the horizon. While the rest of the world slept, Rehor walked to each of his crewmembers.
“Get up, stretch, and get ready,” he said to each of them.
“Why so early?” Alerio inquired.
“There is a storm coming,” Rehor described. Although just a black shape moving in the dark night, Alerio saw an arm lift to the sky. “The wind is blowing westward, and it is increasing in velocity.”
“You must have a sense for these things,” Alerio suggested. “Being a seaman and all.”
“Don’t let Rehor fool you,” Filib growled. “Olek did not come back last night. And that usually foretells a need for a quick departure.”
“Plus, there is a storm coming,” Rehor said in his own defense. “Stow your gear and launch the Momus. But keep it near the shoreline.”
Once the bow of the coastal trader bobbed in the surf, and the aft rested on the beach, the crew sat on the deck boards.
“How long will we be at sea?” Alerio inquired.
“Most of the morning provided the wind holds steady,” Filib told him. “And the water stays calm.
***
A faint cry came from the streets above the beach. In response, the skipper instructed. “Everyone, get your feet wet and grab a section of side boards.”
The next shout came clearer. Not enough to make out the words. But enough to warn the crew of approaching trouble.
Olek traveled fast through the streets of Koroni and his next shout reached the beach clearly.
“Launch the boat,” he screamed as he ran through the last blocks of the town. “Launch the boat.”
“Push,” Rehor ordered. “Push. He can swim out to meet us.”
Chapter 19 – Baskets of Heat
The Momus slid free of the beach and Alerio and the two crewmen scampered onboard. With oars dipping, they rowed the trading vessel away from the shoreline.
Dark shapes flickered through the black morning. Briefly one shape was silhouetted at the top of the beach then closely following, three more profiles popped into view before blending into the background of the black morning.
“Catch,” Olek bellowed to the men on the boat.
Something landed on the deck then the voices of three men cursing and threatening covered the sounds of legs splashing through the surf.
“Reel him in,” Rehor instructed while swinging the rear oar back and forth. Under his manipulations, the Momus turned parallel to the beach.
Filib left the rowing to Isyllus and Alerio and snatched up a rope. Listening to the splashes of a man swimming, he judged the distance and direction then tossed the rope at the sounds.
“Got him,” the lead oar announced when there was a tug from the end of the line.
As the boat pivoted and nosed away from shore, Olek walked his hands along the rope. At the boat, Filib reached down and hoisted him onto the deck boards. From the beach, a trio of men shouted insults and threats.
“The bag has pears and quinces,” Olek informed the crew, referring to the item that hit the deck earlier. Then he added. “Sorry about the hasty dep
arture.”
Alerio expected a scolding from Rehor or possibly a threat to abandon the troublesome crewman at the next port-of-call. The trader did neither. Instead of demanding discipline, Rehor Lex laughed. And not simply a chuckle. The expression of joy came from deep in his gut. Filib, Isyllus, and Olek joined in the merriment.
“They are so young,” Alerio mused.
The boat wallowed when the four crewmen dropped to their knees trying to catch their breath and regain their composure. And just when they started to calm down, one would burst out in giggles and set the crew off into another round of howling.
Alerio took the rear oar from Rehor when the vessel began to drift towards shore. Rocking the oar from side to side, he got the Momus headed westward, away from Koroni and the angry men on the beach.
***
The sun rose, the sail dropped and filled with wind, and Olek passed out pears and quinces from the sack he threw onto the boat.
“What’s this?” Alerio asked. Using one hand, he took the piece of yellow fruit. The other hand he kept on the rear oar. “I’m not keen on quinces. I find the raw fruit too tart.”
“But you have been at sea for several days,” Rehor described. “The salt in the sea suppresses the bitterness. Even if you can’t appreciate the fruit now, by the time you reach the Isle of Rhodes, you will.”
Cooked with dribbles of honey, the quince fruit provided a soft and delicious side dish. But raw, the pulp was woody, oddly spongy, and so tart to be almost inedible. Alerio dug his teeth into the quince and gnawed for a moment before freeing a little piece.
“It’s bitter,” Alerio complained while squinting his eyes in reaction to the tartness.
The crew of the Momus fell to the deck as peels of laughter racked their throats and the exertion caused pains in their sides.
“Of course, it is,” Filib agreed, “because it is a quince.”
Alerio wanted to be mad and strike out. Then he recalled his temper as a younger man and the cruel jokes and situations he thought were funny.
“But you were right,” Alerio lied. “It must be the sea salt air, or could it be this one is ripened to perfection. It’s delicious once you get by the initial taste.”
He bit off another piece, smiled, and chewed while gazing at the sky. In response to the subject of their prank enjoying the fruit, the three men each took a quince. They worked off pieces and munched on the pulp. Their noses wrinkled and their eyes watered at the acidity.
“Keep eating. The next bite will bring out the sweetness,” Alerio encouraged as he appeared to take another morsel. “Yummy, aren’t they.”
Rehor, Filib, Isyllus, and Olek took up the challenge, as young men do, and proceeded to eat the fruit. What they failed to notice was the piece of quince in Alerio’s hand, and the fact that his piece of fruit did not get smaller as he faked eating it.
“Keep chewing,” Alerio cheered them on. “Any moment now, you’ll figure out the secret of the quince.”
***
The wind increased keeping the sail taut. Shortly after losing sight of the land around Koroni, the western shore rose above the horizon.
“See there Sisera, we are not truly at sea,” Rehor pointed out before throwing the quince into the ocean. He licked his lips and moved his tongue around the inside of his mouth trying to clear away the bitterness. “How can you eat that?”
“I am older, and my taste is more refined,” Alerio told him. Keeping his hand behind his back, Alerio tossed the uneaten fruit into the water.
“You aren’t much older than us,” Filib observed.
“True. But I have been in the Legion a long time,” Alerio responded. He pointed at his leather sandals. “In war you eat whatever you can. One time, we ran out of food rations.”
“What did you do?” Olek asked. “Go hunting?”
“When you are surrounded by Qart Hadasht mercenaries the only thing you hunt are soldiers. But human flesh tastes bad,” Alerio said embellishing the tale. “So, we boiled our sandals, dribbled some bear fat on them, and ate our footwear.”
“What did it taste like?” Olek questioned.
Alerio couldn’t tell. Was the scrunched-up expression on the chubby man’s face a result of the quince, or a reaction to eating sandal leather?
“The crewing was tough and the flavor bad,” Alerio described. “But we grew to enjoy them after a few days. We even gave the dish a name.”
“What did you call it?” Olek asked. He studied his own sandals and turned his foot to examine every section of the leatherwork.
“Barefoot stew,” Alerio replied. “Others called it, bear-foot stew.”
***
Once the boat drew close enough for Rehor to make out details on shore, he took control of the rear oar. Overhead, dark clouds closed off the morning sky. Wind gusted and whipped across the water rocking the boat.
“Roll the sail and man your oars,” he ordered.
From loose and lounging young men, the crew jumped to their tasks. One pushed the material and dumped the air from the sail. The two others rolled and tied the fabric. Then the three secured their oars and joined Alerio at their rowing positions.
The Legion officer was impressed by the quick response to Rehor’s instructions.
“We are north of Stoupa,” Filib pointed out, “and coming in with a storm. Do you know what that means?”
Assuming the question was aimed at him, Alerio answered, “No. What does that mean?”
Isyllus and Olek hooted as they performed the next stroke.
“The storm renders us invisible,” Rehor proclaimed, letting Alerio know Filib’s question was rhetorical. “Stroke, stroke. Walk it together, we have work to do. Stroke, stroke.”
Alerio walked and rowed, oblivious to what the head rower and the skipper meant by going to work after coming in with the storm. Rowing in rough water should be considered work, but according to Filib and Rehor getting to shore wasn’t the real job.
The boat rocked and Alerio had to take a cross step to keep his balance. Thinking he was alone in getting caught off guard, he looked around. The other three oarsmen had also danced extra steps to stay upright and off the tilted deck. It made the Legionary feel better knowing experienced sailors also faltered.
“Are we heading for the beach?” Alerio shouted over the rising wind.
Off the starboard side, white sand met white caps offering an escape from the storm. But the Momus maintained a course cruising along the coastline.
“No,” Rehor answered. “It’s not far to Stoupa.”
“Or the bottom of the sea,” Alerio ventured.
“Relax Sisera,” Filip instructed. “We do this regularly.”
“Do what?” Alerio asked. “Challenge Tempestas.”
“Who?” Filip inquired.
“The Goddess of Storms,” Alerio responded.
“You mean the God Zeus,” Filip corrected him. “He provided the storm. It would be ungracious of us to ignore the gift and the opportunity.”
“What opportunity?” Alerio questioned.
The coastal trader cut a righthanded slice in the water. Running with the wind, the Momus entered a cove and raced towards the beach. Just before reaching the sand, rain fell in sheets and visibility dropped to several feet.
“Great navigation,” Alerio called to Rehor.
“And with the rain just now, lucky,” the skipper responded. Then he shouted out commands. “Backstroke, backstroke. Hold water, let it drift.”
From charging at the shoreline, the vessel almost paused in the surf before bottoming out on the sand. Making it to shore just before the rain stared was an impressive feat. Alerio expected the crew to pull out waterproof wraps and hunker down on the deck.
“Sisera, stay here and guard the boat,” Rehor directed. “Filib, spin us.”
The skipper, the head oarsmen, Isyllus, and Olek splashed into the water. They turned the boat until the bow faced the mouth of the cove. On a big wave, they shoved the Momus up on
to the sand.
“Don’t let it drift away,” Rehor called to Alerio.
He and the three crewmen splashed onto the beach and jogged away.
“Sure, I’ll watch your boat,” Alerio mocked. “It’s not that I’m going anywhere. Or even know my location.”
After unpacking an oiled skin, he located some dried beef strips, and carried the snacks to the rear of the boat. There he sat dangling his legs over the side, ate the beef, and waited.
***
The storm intensified and the limited visibility closed in around Alerio. Looking back, he could only see half the deck of the boat and very little of the beach around it. For that reason, the cart’s arrival startled him.
“Get down here,” Rehor called as he pushed and Olek pulled a two wheeled wagon from the curtain of rain.
“What are you hauling?” Alerio questioned.
He jumped from the deck, landed, and walked a few steps to the cart.
“Baskets of heat,” Rehor instructed. “We’ll stow them when we are away.”
“Away from where?” Alerio asked.
A basket with low sides and a sagging middle landed in Alerio’s arms. Chunks of coal filled the container. At the side of the boat, he handed the basket up to Rehor.
“Where are the others?” Alerio questioned.
“They should be here,” Olek complained. He jerked a basket from the cart and stated. “I thought Filib and Isyllus were behind us. But I lost them in the rain.”
Alerio lifted another basket of coal from the cart and carried it to the boat.
“I’m surprised any merchants were open in this weather,” he offered along with the coal.
“Who said they were open?” Rehor commented as he took the basket from Alerio.
“Stoupa has the biggest coal mine in the area,” Olek told Alerio as he nudged in next to the Legion officer with another basket. “And the biggest stockpile of unguarded coal.”
“We learned a few trips back the guards don’t like to walk the backside of the pile in the rain,” Rehor added. “If we get rain, we hit the pile, and take a load of coal.”
“But that’s theft,” Alerio remarked.
“No, no Sisera,” Olek commented defending the action. “You see, the coal is there for anyone to dig out of the ground. We are simply skipping a step.”
Rome's Tribune (Clay Warrior Stories Book 14) Page 17