Pirate Legion

by S. J. A. Turney

  PIRATE LEGION

  A Roman Adventure, book 2

  by S.J.A. Turney, illustrated by Dave Slaney

  For James and Kathryne. Cousins, friends, adventurers.

  And for Claire, our ‘Guardian Angel’ Dave.

  Dave would like to thank his wife Lisa, son Jake, mum, his wonderful in-laws, Chris and Tony for all their love and support.

  Simon would like to thank his wife Tracey for her patience and keeping him topped up with treats.

  Dave and Simon would both like to thank the ever-generous Robin Carter for introducing us in the first place, and the talented Sallyanne at Mulcahy Associates for all her hard work and genius in turning our wacky scribblings into a great book.

  Cover design by Dave Slaney.

  All internal maps are copyright the authors of this work.

  Published in this format 2017 by Mulcahy Books

  Copyright - S.J.A. Turney & Dave Slaney

  First Edition

  The authors assert the moral right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author and illustrator of this work.

  All Rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior consent of the author, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  Chapter One

  Summer, 117AD

  Callie sat at the side of the ship, her legs poking through the wooden rail and dangling over the churning water – water that had been crystal clear and inviting that morning. It wasn’t now. In fact, Callie had been in latrines that had more inviting water than the dirty, rolling grey waves beneath her now. Yet she sat there, white-blonde hair whipping her face as she smiled into the wicked, glowering face of the closing storm, drawing a picture of the god of the north wind in her journal as salty spray speckled and curled the page.

  ‘You should get to the back,’ said Marcus importantly as he approached across the deck, slipping this way and that with the rolling movement of the ship. ‘Or in the hold. Somewhere safe. The captain says the storm is coming our way and we can’t outrun it.’

  Callie finished a flourish of curly hair on the wind god’s head and turned, her face creased into a frown.

  ‘Down in the hold, among the smelly cargo?’

  Marcus snorted. ‘Better sitting in smelly cargo than being swept off the deck by storm winds, sis.’

  ‘I’d rather not spend the next three weeks only able to smell rotten fish,’ Callie sighed. ‘But I understand. Let’s just hope this storm doesn’t drive us too far off course. I can’t wait to get to Crete… to check the port records.’

  Marcus nodded. He’d been about to poke fun at her the way big brothers would always do with their little sisters, but he decided against it, knowing how important this trip was to her. A few years ago, their parents had vanished at sea on this very route while heading to Crete on business. And though the men of Centurion Gallo were here to hunt down a mysterious buyer of treasures and antiquities who had been identified during their creepy adventure in Egypt, Marcus knew what it was that had drawn Callie. If they were ever to find a clue as to what had happened to their parents, it would be on Crete.

  ‘You’ll learn nothing if you’re washed overboard and drown,’ he said with a mix of authority and kindness.

  Sighing, Callie finished her sketch and closed her journal, spidery black/blue ink across expensive vellum, all professionally bound into a book as a gift from their uncle Scriptor for their help in solving the mystery of King Amenemhat’s treasure. The last few days had been treated with just short entries in the journal, detailing only points of interest such as leaping dolphins, the Phoenician trader who’d passed with an elephant on board, and occasional interesting fish seen over the side.

  Her attention was focused on what lay ahead. The journey by ship was just that: a journey. The destination was the important thing.

  Marcus held out a hand for her, to steady herself as the ship tipped and bucked again in the increasingly troubled waters. Callie grabbed it, folding the precious journal under her other arm as the ship made several nasty noises like the groans of a giant who had eaten too much pomegranate for his own good. The sky was the colour of slate and to the northeast white flashes were vaguely visible in the clouds as the storm closed rapidly on them. The wheeling seabirds that seemed to occupy every foot of sky between Egypt and Crete and pooed on everything they could find had all fled the approaching wind and rain. Only humans were silly enough to be out at sea today.

  Humans and Dog, anyway.

  Dog lay on the rough deck back near the steering oars where the ship’s captain maintained their course for Crete under the suspicious, watchful gazes of Gallo and Scriptor. The stray mutt, who had become something of a mascot for the unit, peered unhappily at the sky, then used a rear paw to pull something interesting from his own ear. Pierced and extracted with his claws, whatever it was thudded to the deck. Dog looked at it for a moment in interest. Then he ate it.

  Potens, the legion’s best engineer, had been watching dog with interest and, as Marcus and Callie approached, he nodded at the animal. ‘He’s known the storm was coming for a while. Always fascinates me how animals know these things before people. Dogs are one of the cleverest of species, you know?’

  ‘Good eating on a dog too,’ grinned old Senex, but without really meaning it. Dog had become important to them all.

  ‘What will this mean for our journey?’ Centurion Gallo asked the ship’s captain.

  ‘Well for one thing it might mean walking the last fifty miles across the sea bed. Storms are dreadful and can tear ships apart into kindling.’

  ‘You’re not boosting my confidence,’ Gallo glowered.

  ‘Good. Any moment now, that storm will hit us and I need every man to help and anyone who can’t help down below out of the way.’

  With this, the captain gestured at the children and while Callie nodded her understanding, Marcus produced a sour face. He was a trainee of the Roman army. He would be a legionary and would fight with them, and he could certainly face a little wind and some waves. His gaze met Centurion Gallo’s raised eyebrow, and he knew in that moment he would miss the storm, cowering below deck. He had thought to argue for a moment, but quarrelling with a centurion was a sure-fire way not to be accepted into the legion, and he couldn’t risk that.

  The two of them moved back from the rail and timed their movements with the rowers, sidling between the benches of sweaty sailors to the central walkway where they moved towards the rear and the hatch that led down to the dark, claustrophobic hold. Unlike the merchant vessels the children had seen coming and going for years in the port of Alexandria, this was a military ship – a trireme with three rows of oars at each side, and much of the space was given over to the rowers for speed and efficiency, with just a small place for cargo below. Merchant ships by comparison had deep holds and usually a lot fewer rowers, some even entirely oar-free, relying purely on sails and the wind.

  Marcus dropped down the slippery steps into the hold first, grabbing tight to the sides as the ship lurched this way and that with the heavy waves. Callie followed him down but stopped halfway, holding the timber tightly at a point where she could still see across the deck. After a moment, Marcus came back up and joined her again. They were down below and out of the way, but at least here they could still see.

  Dog scratched himself idly, then tottered across with a swaying walk and skittered down the steps past them into the hold, which smelled of old fish and stinky sailors. The arrival of Dog’s rather distinctive aroma did little to improve the stench, though the
mutt seemed unaffected. The children, safe as could be, watched from the hatchway as the ship’s captain directed his own sailors and Centurion Gallo’s men to pull on ropes, fold things, tie things and help with the oars. The ship was moving sideways as much as forward with the dreadful waves and the storm winds. The sails had been taken up and tied when the storm first showed itself almost an hour ago, as fierce winds would catch in the sheets and throw the ship around like a toy boat in a fast stream.

  There was a shout of alarm from somewhere unseen towards the front of the ship, accompanied by a whizzing noise that Marcus thought sounded like a rope running fast through something. The captain began to bellow more orders and Gallo now ran off to lend a helping hand. The only soldier left now at the rear with the poor man struggling to hold the steering oars was their uncle Scriptor.

  The pilot at his oars shouted something rude as the great wooden beam slipped from his grip, pulled away by the force of the churning water. He grabbed at it while holding on to the other oar and looked pleadingly at Scriptor, but the standard bearer was more concerned with what was going on out of sight at the front. Their uncle turned towards the hatch and pointed at Marcus and Callie.

  ‘Stay there.’

  And then he was gone, running off down the walkway to help with the unseen problem. Callie swallowed her fear and glanced at Marcus. Her brother was watching the poor man with the twin oars, but clung on to the stair rail and stayed put as their uncle had ordered. Chewing on her lip, Callie took a deep breath and began to climb back up to the deck. Marcus looked at her in disbelief.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘He needs help,’ Callie replied, nodding at the man with the steering oars.

  ‘Uncle said…’ began Marcus, but his sister wasn’t listening and scurried out onto the deck. He watched her for a moment, wrestling with the necessity of looking after her and the need to obey their uncle’s orders. Either way he was in trouble. Grumbling, Marcus began to clamber up to the deck after his sister.

  The storm was over them properly now. When they had come across to the hatch mere moments ago there had been a strong, cold wind driving salty spray across the ship from the sea to either side, but now the rain came too and battered the timbers of the vessel constantly. Marcus shivered as the salty downpour stung his face, and he wiped the water from his eyes as he hurried over to the steering oars. The sailor was struggling to hold them still, but Callie had helped him retrieve the stray one, and the two of them were working together now to keep the ship steady.

  Marcus stopped halfway to his sister, his senses telling him that something was wrong. The sound of shouting down towards the ship’s bow had changed tone. Instead of desperate but professional, they now sounded panicked and shocked. Added to that, the expression of the man at the steering oars was horrified as he looked past Marcus.

  The boy turned slowly, his eyes opening wide in surprise.

  There was another ship heading straight for them, coming in from the side and riding high on the top of the waves so that, from his current angle, Marcus was almost looking up at the underneath of the new ship. They were going to collide any time. Dread filled Marcus as he watched. What were the chances of two ships colliding in a storm?

  But there was something else about this, too, beyond coincidence. Marcus had always been thrilled with tales of the wars of old and while Callie read anything she could get her hands on, he had concentrated on stories of battles and heroes. He remembered the accounts of the war against Carthage several hundred years ago and the amazing weapons the Romans had invented for their ships, including the corvus – the ‘crow’. He had never seen one in real life before, but the fact that he was looking at one being used right now made it clear that this collision was no accident.

  The crow was a walkway on hinges with spikes underneath, so that it could be dropped onto another ship and would stick into the deck, making it easy for soldiers to move from one ship to another and board it. This new vessel which was bearing down on them had one of those crows at an angle, ready to drop. They were going to be boarded!

  ‘Marcus!’

  He turned, having to tear his eyes from that terrifying sight. Callie was waving at him.

  ‘What?’

  ‘We need to turn. Now. To get out of their way.’

  Marcus’ eyes slid back to the ship bearing down on them. For a moment it was almost lost to sight as it dipped with the waves, then rose again, horribly close.

  ‘Uncle!’ he bellowed across the deck even as he ran towards the steering oars. Scriptor was busy with the others but Potens, the engineer, looked up at his voice. Potens, along with Maximus – one of the legion’s biggest, strongest men – was busy trying to tie down a loose, flapping rope. Potens had been suffering with sea sickness throughout the journey, and had been assigned only to small light tasks. The two men looked across at the enemy ship closing on them, then at Marcus who was pointing madly at the rear where Callie and the sailor were struggling to turn the oars and the ship along with them.

  By the time Marcus grabbed the steering oars and tried to help turn them, Potens and Maximus had left a sailor to deal with the rope and were running across to join the children. Marcus heaved at the pole, rain lashing his face. Callie, beside him, had a grim expression of strain as she pushed, her hair plastered to her cheeks. The oars seemed to be unmoveable, the power of the storm-driven waves just too much for their muscles. Then, suddenly, Potens with his strong arms and the mountain of muscle that was Maximus were with them, adding their effort to the attempt to change course.

  The oars began to move gradually, then suddenly swung around, so sharply that the sailor controlling them was almost swept overboard. As Potens, Marcus and Callie held the timber shaft in place with every ounce of their strength, Maximus leapt over and grabbed the sailor to stop him falling into the grey waves. The engineer smiled at them weakly, his face a pale waxy grey. He would be throwing up even now, but had eaten nothing for the last two days and there was nothing left in him to come out.

  All their eyes now moved to the second ship. It was almost upon them, but the Roman vessel had begun to turn. It was going to be very close. The enemy ship loomed high, cresting another wave, and now they could see the figures of men on the deck, gripping the ropes of the corvus, ready to drop it onto their deck. Marcus’ sharp eyes at least picked out one detail of the enemy with relief. Unlike most ships, or military ships at least, it was not equipped with a ram at the front. A ram would have punched through the wooden hull of their ship under the water and let in the water so that they would gradually sink. Yet the enemy was equipped with a ‘crow’, so it was no innocent merchant ship either. His blood chilled as he realised what it all meant.

  Pirates.

  Chapter Two

  Pirates would be equipped with hard men and all they needed to board, but they wouldn’t want to sink the ship they attacked, as it would be a prize worth a lot of money. So in a way it was a relief that there was no ram with which to sink them, but the knowledge that these would be hardened pirates intent on taking their ship was equally worrying.

  The two vessels met a moment later with a terrifying crash that sent half the crew staggering and falling across the deck. Only those gripping ropes, rails or oars managed to stay on their feet.

  The angle of the ships was different now, though. Because the children and their friends had managed to turn the oars, rather than hitting them side-on, the pirates had managed only to barge them with a glancing blow, and the two ships turned together so that they were alongside, bouncing against each other with horrible sounds of breaking wood.

  ‘If we can get in front of them, we’ll be safe,’ the sailor yelled into the howling wind.

  Marcus and Callie looked from him to the point of impact at which he was pointing. The difference between vicious pirates and trained, professional military sailors was obvious in that moment. As the two ships had turned and their sides slammed together, someone on their ship had obvi
ously shouted out an order and almost every rower had tipped their oar upwards so that they rose like an avenue of straight, bare trees at the ship’s side, while the pirates had had less foresight and the impact of the ships had smashed most of their oars.

  Even as the children watched, the pirates tried to recover their attack, swinging that corvus around so that it would be above the deck of the military ship. Unfortunately they were rather hampered by that forest of raised oars and, even as the ships bashed repeatedly into one another, the sailors flailed with those oars, fighting off the swinging ramp and stopping it dropping to the deck.

  Marcus watched them nervously. If that ramp with its sharp points bit into their ship, the two vessels would be held together and the pirates could cross. The military ship might have soldiers and sailors on it, but there must be plenty of pirates, or they wouldn’t have dared attack a Roman army ship.

  ‘Where’s the wind coming from?’ Callie suddenly shouted.

  Marcus frowned, wondering why that was important, but Potens peered across the ship. ‘Aft,’ he said, then ‘from behind’ in explanation.

  Callie grinned. ‘Get the sails down, Marcus.’

  ‘What?’

  Sails in storm winds were too dangerous. They might catch and turn the ship over, or throw it around. No sailor had the sails out in a storm.

  ‘The wind’s behind us right now, Marcus, and we’ve got two sails. They’ve only got one. We can outrun them.’

  Marcus blinked, but the sailor at the steering oars was nodding. The boy smiled, turning and running along the deck’s walkway, slipping this way and that on the wet timbers with the rolling waves. The enemy’s corvus was still up, swinging this way and that, the sailors batting at it with their raised oars, fighting to keep it away. Part way down the ship, the century’s other massive muscular legionary, Brutus, was using a spare oar to jab at the corvus and push it back. Marcus waved at him.