“And yet the unarmed prisoners are rowing away,” Teppo reflected on the situation, “while you wait for the ships-of-war to launch.”
“What are you suggesting?” Cas demanded.
“Nothing,” Perseus stated. “Or maybe, we launch, find the prisoners, and collect the reward.”
“Can we do that?” Teppo asked.
In the flickering light of the lamp, the Lieutenant and Sergeant peered into the faces of the pirates. Moments passed, then Cas stood.
“We can do this,” he declared.
“We can?” Kaveh inquired. Then he remarked. “But the Captain said no merchant vessels were to leave the beach.”
“This vessel is under our control,” Cas explained. “Besides, I want the reward.”
“We are under your command, Captain,” Perseus confirmed. “Orders, sir?”
“Launch the boat,” Cas commanded.
“Yes, sir,” Teppo acknowledged.
He slipped over the side and shoved the boat into the cove. The launch of the coastal trader drew a few shouted questions.
“Don’t you worry about it,” Cas hollered a reply to the concerned pirates. “Kaveh and I are going for the reward.”
With Perseus on the rear oar, Teppo and Kaveh on the main oars, and Cas on lookout at the bow, the coastal trader moved out of the cove and into the bay.
“You are too close to shore,” Cas called back. “Angle us more to port and away from the rocks.”
“Yes, Captain,” Perseus acknowledged.
But the boat held its course and continued to row close to the black rocks.
“How is that?” Perseus called to the fore of the coastal trader.
“More, move us more,” Cas replied. “No wonder the boat stinks. You are not a sailor.”
“Now?” Perseus asked even though he hadn’t steered the boat away from shore.
“No, no. More to port, more,” Cas insisted.
***
They had traveled around a finger of land by inlets while continuing the loud exchanges. Fed up with the unresponsive nature of the merchant, Cas spun and faced aft.
“Did you not hear me?” he shouted. “Steer us away from the rocks. Never mind, I’ll take control myself.”
Stomping in frustration, he walked the length of the vessel, having to step over and around Teppo and Kaveh.
“Those rocks are dangerous, even for a coastal trader,” he informed Perseus. “One submerged can sink…”
“Look. There,” Perseus pointed out, “in the water.”
Cas pivoted and bent forward to study the black sea. He noted waves before a man with something around his neck stroked into the open water from between the rocks.
“There is one of the prisoners…” Cas gasped as a dagger slid between his ribs.
Closely following the gasp, Teppo finished a stroke and while returning to the dip the oar blade, he yanked the oar inward. The end of the oak smacked Kaveh in the head. Barely conscious, the pirate tumbled overboard.
“Cas is down,” Perseus announced.
A splash preceded Teppo’s declaration, “Kaveh is gone, as well, sir.”
Act 8
Chapter 26 - Tap-Tap-Tap-Tap
Symeon Vasil clung to Alerio’s neck as the Tribune swam out from between the rocks. For long moments, the two had waited in waist deep water. Then as the voices of two men arguing reached them, Alerio swam out of the fissure.
“Tribune Sisera,” Teppo acknowledged Alerio as he reached the boat. “You seem to have a snail on your back.”
“This Sergeant Petya is Master Vasil,” Alerio replied. “Kindly help him into the boat.”
Teppo reached down, shoved a big hand under Symeon’s arm, and lifted the boy into the boat. Alerio scissor kicked his legs, came partially out of the water, and grabbed the boat rail.
“Where do we stand with the ships-of-war?” Alerio questioned as he rolled onto the trader.
“According to Cas, one of our Cilician guides, the Captains were still gathering their crews,” Perseus answered. “We should lower the sail and get away from here.”
“Symeon, this is Lieutenant Archos of the Rhodian Navy,” Alerio told the boy. “Until you get back to the city of Rhodes, you will stay by his side. No matter what happens, you become his shadow.”
“What’s going to happen, Tribune Sisera?” he asked.
“I wish I knew,” Alerio admitted. Then to Teppo, he asked. “How strong are you?”
“I am as good as two men,” the Sergeant boasted.
“We will not be using a sail,” Alerio informed the two Rhodians. “The fabric catches moonlight, making us visible to the Cilicians.”
“Then how are we going to avoid the ships-of-war?” Perseus inquired.
“Sergeant Teppo and I are going to row us away from Antikythera,” Alerio explained as he took the oar left by Kaveh. “Keeping a low profile is the best chance we have. Sergeant Petya, man your station.”
Sound traveled over water incredibly far. But as sound did in hilly terrain, the source’s direction was hard to discern. Except the call in the early morning to run out oars could only come from the upper reaches of the bay.
“The ships-of-war will be along shortly,” Perseus warned. “Stroke, stroke. Walk it together, stroke, stroke.”
Teppo taking long strides forced Alerio to quick step. They had no natural rhythm in common. In a boat crew, a deck officer would have them separated. But they didn’t have the luxury of other oarsman to balance their natural assets.
“Stroke, stroke, pull it together,” Perseus encouraged. “Stroke, stroke.”
But the Tribune and the NCO continued to struggle with combining their styles. Although the coastal trader moved, the boat lacked the rapid forward momentum necessary to clear the mouth of the bay. Or even to clear the point of land before the Cilician ships-of-war arrived.
A stick tapped the deck. Again, it rapped on the boards. When the stick knocked a third time, a young voice song out in the dark.
“Demetrius is knocking
Do not let him in
The Prince wants the children
To raise as yearlings
What can we do to save our kin
Remain behind the walls
Do not let them in
Remain behind the walls
Do not let Demetrius in.”
And the stick kept time with a tap-tap-tap-tap.
Alerio and Teppo matched the rhyming and evened out their strokes.
“Demetrius is knocking
Ignore his tools of war
The Prince wants an open door
For our gold he rowed ashore
To do the deed its ram and bore
Siege engines pound
Ignore his tools of war
Remain behind the walls
Do not let Demetrius in.”
And the stick kept time with a tap-tap-tap-tap.
The coastal trading boat rounded the arm of the bay. Halfway across a narrow strait between the island and a small crop of land in deeper water, Lieutenant Archos bent down and took the stick from Symeon.
“It’s a schoolboy’s song,” Perseus complained. “This is a serious situation. There is no place for a melody from a playground. Besides, his voice will carry across the water.”
“I kind of like it, Lieutenant,” Teppo admitted. “It helps me slow down for the little guy.”
Alerio glanced back to see if the Sergeant was referring to Symeon. But the big NCO was not talking about the boy.
“If over one hundred oarsmen are quiet enough to hear a boy singing, we are doomed anyway. Symeon Vasil, continue your song,” Alerio encouraged. “It helps Sergeant Petya keep up with my strength.”
The two oarsmen tighten their grips and flexed into the next stroke. Symeon felt the stick as it was thrust back into his hand. He tapped the deck and sang.
“Demetrius is knocking
Man the defenses
The Prince takes the offense
&n
bsp; Making the year tense
In the horror he dispenses
Rhodes stands strong
Man the defenses
Remain behind the walls
Do not let Demetrius in.”
And the stick kept time with a tap-tap-tap-tap.
While Alerio and Teppo sweated and dug their oar blades in the water, Perseus moved the rear oar and watched the dark mountain of the island slide by. But the Lieutenant’s duties extended beyond keeping them off the rocks, steering, and adding a little propulsion.
Above his head the stars glistened but not for long. With the coming sunrise, the naval Lieutenant would lose the multi point navigation aids. Measuring the boat’s direction by hands and finger’s widths from the sun worked for long hauls. But Perseus needed to locate a slice of Crete just two and three quarters of a mile wide. The waning night required him to nose the boat into the proper course before daybreak. Guided by the stars, he eased the craft away from Antikythera.
With a break in his voice from exhaustion, Symeon Vasil continued to keep the beat while singing.
“Demetrius is knocking
Show him no pity
The Prince was very snippy
Against our walled city
Let him whine let him get snitty
From brave Rhodes he fled
Show him no pity
Remain behind the walls
Do not let Demetrius in.”
And the stick kept time with a tap-tap-tap-tap.
***
Miles of hard rowing carried the boat out of sight of the island just before the land would have appeared in the sunlight of a new day. Thanks to Harpocrates hiding them in the dark, the God of Silence and Secrets helped them avoid the ships-of-war.
“Good singing,” Alerio complimented Symeon. The Tribune rotated his shoulders in an attempt to work the knots from his muscles. Then he announced. “We are visible with or without a sail.”
Alerio and Teppo put away the oars, pulled lines and unfurled the cloth. Symeon dropped the stick and collapsed to the deck. Perseus held a hand up beside the sun on his left while trying to decipher a southeast heading towards Crete.
“Lieutenant Archos, do you need help with steering?” Alerio inquired.
“Tribune Sisera, that would be most helpful,” Perseus replied. He glanced at Teppo who had dropped to the deck beside the boy. “If you have the energy?”
“I haven’t started honing my blades,” Alerio responded.
“Is there a meaning behind that remark?” Perseus questioned. “Or am I too tired to figure it out?”
“In the Legion, we are taught to complete the mission before tending to our gear,” Alerio said while walking to Perseus. As he took control of the rear oar, he explained. “And to rest only after repairing our gear. Give me a heading, Lieutenant Archos, this assignment is not over yet. There is no rest.”
***
For all the speed the trading vessel caught from the wind, it was not in the same class as a bireme. With a huge sail pushing one hundred feet of vessel, the ship-of-war appeared off the starboard side moving past them.
“What do you think, Lieutenant?” Teppo asked. He held the rear oar steady while Alerio rested. “Do we veer off and try to outrun her?”
In a thoughtful movement, Perseus lifted his face and peered at the mid-morning sky.
“The answer is not up there, Lieutenant,” Alerio suggested as he stretched. He pulled his gladius and examined the Noric steel. “The answer is here in this blade.”
“That’s a two banked ship-of-war with one hundred and twenty oarsmen,” Perseus cautioned. “We can’t possibly fight them all.”
“You are correct,” Alerio agreed. “You, Symeon, and Teppo can’t.”
“Hold on, Tribune,” Teppo scolded. “If you can fight, so can I.”
“Not this engagement,” Alerio replied. “You and Perseus are needed to sail this boat to Crete, find the Commander, and return young Vasil to his father.”
“And while we are sailing into the sunset,” Perseus asked, “where will you be?”
“On the bireme’s steering deck,” Alerio replied. “Hopefully disrupting their navigation.”
“Sir, how do you plan to board the Cilician vessel?” Teppo inquired.
“It’s a test,” Alerio remarked, “of Lieutenant Archos boat handling skills.”
“You believe you can fight one hundred and twenty oarsmen plus the ship’s officers,” Perseus challenged.
“I’m guessing they aren’t sailing with a full crew,” Alerio responded. “There shouldn’t be more than eighty pirates on board.”
“Eighty against one,” Symeon Vasil remarked. “Why Tribune?”
“I’d like an answer to that as well,” Perseus said. “Why?”
“In the future, the Republic hopes to have mutual defense treaties between Rhodes and Rome. I was sent to Rhodes as an attaché to contact your military,” Alerio reported. “But a sword hangs over my head. If I fail, it will affect more than me. The failure will have consequences for my adopted father. Dying while saving Symeon clears me of any responsibility. There will be no adverse effect on my father and the act will set up the next attaché for success.”
“You, Tribune Sisera, are as honorable as a Rhodian naval officer,” Perseus complimented Alerio. “It has been an honor serving with you.”
“Does this mean you can get me on the aft of that bireme,” Alerio questioned, “while keeping the boat clear of grappling hooks?”
“I am a Lieutenant of the Rhodian Navy,” Perseus boasted. “I was sailing before I could walk. There is no pirate who can throw far enough or accurate enough to trap us.”
“Besides, if any get lucky,” Teppo assured Alerio, “my blade will be there to cut the lines.”
“Lieutenant Archos get me on that vessel,” Alerio instructed.
He walked to the front of the boat for some privacy and looked out over the water with unfocused eyes. As the wind blew in his face, he tasted the salt air and prayed.
“Goddess Nenia, you have been with me through campaigns, skirmishes, scouting missions, ambushes, deceptions, and errands of revenge. When I fought in those situations, I expected you to take me at any moment,” Alerio intoned to his deity. “During the coming action, I will finally meet you. Hopefully, as you spirit my soul to Hades, I can thank you in person for your guidance over the years. And I can apologize for doubting your value when I was on Sardinia. Until we meet, I ask one more thing. Allow me to send you enough dead pirates to delay the Cilician ship before you come for my soul.”
Alerio’s eyes refocused and he felt a little disappointment. No pressure on his back announced the presence of Nenia Dea looking over his shoulder. For the first time in a long time, Alerio Carvilius Sisera was going into battle alone.
***
All things were relative. A sprinting man appeared slow compared to a galloping horse, and both were slower than an arrow in flight. Yet the man had the ability to turn in a tight radius. The horse less so, and the arrow, not at all. Such was the difference between the long ship-of-war with its massive sail, and the coastal trader a quarter of the bireme’s size.
Coming from the pirate’s flank, Perseus worked the rear oar using the wind as well as Teppo’s powerful muscles on the oars for speed. Grappling hooks arched through the sky and splashed into the sea. As the lines were recoiled, the trading boat sailed out of range and towards another section. Those hooks tumbled through the air and, just short of the coastal trading boat, they dropped into the water.
The Cilician Captain and his ship’s officers ran down the center board shouting for their rowers to capture the boat. At the rear of the bireme, the boat cut inward and vanished behind the aft boards. The officers stopped, alerted the rowers near the rear to be ready to throw. They waited for the boat to come around from behind the ship-of-war. And they waited until, the pirate Captain noticed the small sail curving away in the other direction.
“Port side,”
he bellowed to the man on the steering platform. “Turn us to port.”
He glared at the trader as the boat returned to its original track. Under sail and with one-man rowing, it headed towards the southeast.
“Can you believe that?” he laughed. “I’ve seventy of Cilicia’s best oarsman and they have one rower. I have a massive square rig and they have a bed sheet. How far does he think he can get?”
Another thing that was relative. The power of a ship-of-war required harnessing. No matter how much wind filled the sail or how many oars dipped into the sea, without direction, the ship could not fulfill its purpose of pursuing an enemy.
The Captain noticed his ship had not turned to port. Irritated, he twisted to stare at his steering deck and his mouth fell open.
Tribune Alerio Sisera stood over the body of the navigator. After fitting a Cilician helmet over his head, and strapping on a shield, he saluted the Captain.
“Under the authority of Council/General Aulus Calatinus,” Alerio shouted. “I claim this vessel as a trophy for the Roman Republic. You will submit or face the consequences.”
His words had no real meaning and were said to give the pirates pause. They chuckled at one man demanding their surrender. The humor did the trick and they delayed before taking up weapons. In the gap between Alerio’s arrival and the fight, two things happened.
The sail on the coastal trader reached the horizon. A moment later, Perseus, Teppo, and Symeon vanished. From then on, the pirates needed either luck or fate to find the boat. And soon, the coastal trader would sail into the protection of a trio of Rhodian warships.
The other thing that happened was personal. When a big oarsman picked up a sharp and massive battle axe, Alerio felt a warmth on his shoulder blade. And his gladius rose as if guided by another presence to point at the oarsman.
“Come on big man,” Alerio challenged the rower. “I have someone who you are dying to meet.”
Chapter 27 – Battle at the Aft Deck
The ax gave a hint to the big guy’s fighting style as did his massive shoulders. Straight on, overhead chop, designed over many fights to split a shield and segment the defender underneath it. Hoisting the ax as he ran, the big man got a foot on the platform.
Rome's Tribune (Clay Warrior Stories Book 14) Page 23