I kept my voice calm. ‘I think you’ll find him too busy right now. You might want to get below decks with the rest of the men.’
Aulus looked aghast. ‘But that will be even worse! I’ll be seasick.’
I felt guilt for what I’d brought Aulus into. ‘Better that than washed overboard. I have a feeling that the sea will be washing over our decks soon, and I’m not sure our canvas and timber cabin will stand up to it.’ I turned to the approaching storm front that already looked closer.
Aulus looked at it and his face paled. ‘By the gods.’
‘I’m sorry.’ It was all I could say.
Aulus started making his way over to the hatch on the deck. ‘Aren’t you going to join us?’
I shook my head. ‘I’ll stay here and see if I can help in any way.’
He shook his head in dismay, muttering something under his breath about ‘idiots with no brains’. I let him go with no further comment. Maybe he was right.
With the mainsail down, Bricius ran past me to the pilot who stood by the steering oar. ‘Now it’s going to be a race, a race to the end of the headland.’ He took a hold of the steering oar, readjusting it to the line he wanted, and then shouted in a booming voice that rang clearly over the decks, ‘Now row, boys! Row like you’ve never rowed in your lives!’
The hortator banged out a fast pace on the drums and the oarsmen took up the challenge, bending their backs into their work. Marcus came up to me, followed by a few legionaries of the guard, all big and strong. ‘Can we help, Cassius? I’ve selected the largest of the men.’
I looked round to Bricius, who shook his head.
My position on the stern was slightly raised from his on the main deck, so I knelt down to their level and addressed all of them – there were nine including Marcus. ‘I’m sorry, but you can’t help. None of you are trained oarsmen, so you’ll throw off their synchronisation.’
They all looked at one another, and I saw the terror there. The storm was now upon us, the sky dark with clouds, rain whipping our faces, as the sea was churned in great swells. The ship was rolling over each breaker, dipping down into waves twice the height of a man, before lurching upwards, the ram at the prow, bursting through the waves. The oarsmen meanwhile sang the song in time to the drums that helped them row as one. It now sounded like a song of defiance and rage, as they shouted it into the howling wind.
We are the fleet, the pride of the Misenum fleet,
We pull the oars, and never weaken,
Because we are the Misenum fleet.
I saw the small band of legionaries looking to the oarsmen for salvation, willing them on to row through this terror-spawned storm and past the isles of Gorditanum, whose rocks were looming ever closer. The headland was less than a mile away, but it still looked too far, tantalisingly just out of reach. Despite all their effort, the heavy waves and wind was keeping the Severitas in its grip. I looked at the young but grim faces of the legionaries. ‘Those who don’t want to join the others below decks, go and encourage those oarsmen – they’re our only hope now. Cheer them, sing to them, shout at them, whatever it takes to get them to take us past those rocks.’
Marcus and the eight legionaries ran to obey, I guessed out of relief to at least be doing something. They shouted and urged the oarsmen on as they gripped tightly to the oarsman’s benches lest they be taken overboard by the waves that now swept over the Liburnian’s deck. I looked round at Bricius and saw he and his pilot were holding tightly to the steering oar, making sure that the ship held its line as the oarsmen gamely tried to push their vessel on.
The storm was now a howling cacophony of noise, the wind and rain biting into our faces. Over the noise of the storm and drums I heard the oarsmen’s voices singing out loudly and defiantly, with the legionaries joining them as they shouted encouragement, pleading with them for one final push. Ever so slowly, the oarsmen began to win their battle with the waves, and gradually the ship pushed forward.
The ship made it to the headland, and Bricius, face set with a grimace of determination, began to turn the ship towards it so we could break out into the open sea. As the Severitas turned, disaster struck. One of the ropes holding the small foremast sail, that had been left up and angled carefully to assist the oarsmen, suddenly snapped. The movement of the ship had put the hempen rope under too much strain, and the small sail spun into the sea. The ship was pulled sideways, snapping a couple of the oars, as the sail, still attached on one side, acted as an anchor. It dragged the ship back into the storm’s remorseless waves.
Two of the sailors spotted the danger immediately and tried to pull the sail back to the deck, but as the ship floundered in the heavy sea, another great wave washed over her decks and swept the two sailors away, down into the iron-grey sea.
Bricius swore and shouted at me. ‘You! Quaestor! Come here and help him hold it. I need to free that sail.’
I ran over to the pilot on the steering oar and lent my strength to his as we desperately wrestled with the oar, trying to keep the Severitas level as Bricius ran down the deck, an act that took suicidal bravery as waves swept over us.
The pilot and I needed all our strength to keep the ship from turning as the foremast sail pulled against us in the other direction, swept along by the strong storm-assisted current. The oarsmen still pulled ever onwards, fighting to move us forward, away from the rocks.
We are the fleet, the pride of the Misenum fleet …
They sang, as Bricius made it to the prow, whilst the pilot and I gritted our teeth and held on with all our strength against the awesome pressure of the storm, wind and rain biting into our eyes and faces.
We pull the oars, and never weaken …
Bricius shimmied up the foremast, showing great agility for a man of his sixty years, with a dagger clenched between his teeth. I groaned as my muscles burned in agony under the pressure of holding the ship level. Come on, Bricius, I urged myself, as I knew we couldn’t hold it much longer. The pilot alongside me gave an equal groan of effort.
Because we are the Misenum Fleet.
Despite the wind and waves that washed all around him, Bricius somehow managed to reach the top and hold on with his legs wrapped around the mast. One hand held the top of the mast whilst the other cut away the foresail that was pulling against us. I felt the pressure lessen and suddenly the Severitas shot forward as we reached the headland. ‘Now boys, one last push and we’re free!’ I shouted at the oarsmen, in desperation and sudden hope.
The oarsmen stayed true to their words and carried on pulling their oars without weakening, the hortator beating a fast tempo. We came close to the headland, which was now less than a spear’s throw away, black jagged rocks breaking the waves into a foamy ruin. I could no longer see Bricius through the waves and the rain, but the bronze ram and the prow stood out clearly. It lifted impossibly high over the waves, before slamming back downwards as we turned around the headland. I heard the legionaries and oarsmen cheer as the Severitas broke out into the open sea, pushed there by the storm, and we shot past the Gorditanum Isles’ far edge.
I collapsed in relief as the pilot steered us around the far side of the islands, where we were protected from the worst of the storm by the same islands that had nearly crushed us on her rocky teeth. I sat there, giving thanks to the tutela of Minerva that stood mounted above us. I turned to see that the oarsmen were now collapsed in complete exhaustion. The legionaries clapped them on the backs and cheered them, tears streaming openly down some of their exuberant and relieved faces. Bricius moved past them, slapping some of his oarsmen on the shoulder as he passed, and they in turn held their arms up in appreciation over his death-defying climb up the foremast.
He reached me and first checked on his pilot, who signalled that he was alright. He turned to me. ‘You were quite useful after all. You did well to hold her.’
I looked at him in disbelief. ‘Bricius … such bravery … you were incredible. Your men also … how did they have the strength?’
Bricius shook his head. ‘They did what they had to do to stay alive, just as I did. Nothing more. Although, I’ll admit that’s as close as I ever want to get to meeting Neptune’s end.’
I nodded in respect. ‘Your crew should make you proud.’
He looked round at his exhausted oarsmen. ‘They do. They’re the best on the seas. They’re the Misenum fleet.’
Chapter Fourteen
We idled under the shelter of the Gorditanum Islands until the storm blew over. After it had passed, Bricius sent sailors over the side to assess any damage to the ship. He also sent two men over to the nearby isles, strong swimmers who swam ashore to check to see if there was any sign of the two sailors who’d been swept overboard. It turned out that the Severitas had held up well in the storm. Some of the ornate decoration around the prow and stern had been torn off, three oars had snapped, and of course the foremast sail had been cut loose, but otherwise she was still seaworthy. Even our cabin survived the storm. Of the two sailors, however, there was no sign.
Bricius was a practical man and saw no point in spending any more time on a search he knew would be fruitless. The next morning he gave a brief ceremony, addressed to the tutula of Minerva that protected the ship. No more than a few words, giving thanks for their service, as the oarsmen and sailors gathered round with sombre faces. I stayed at the back and didn’t interfere. This was a private moment for the sailors as they said goodbye to their shipmates, knowing that we’d all come within a few hairs on Neptune’s chest of sharing the same fate.
Then we departed for Spain, but the mood of the ship had changed. The legionaries who’d remained on deck throughout the storm told their comrades how the oarsmen had saved them with their heroic row. I think all appreciated how close they’d come to death and the debt they now owed to the crew. Some of the stronger legionaries offered to take the places of oarsmen for short stretches of the trip over the inner sea. Bricius allowed it now that we were out of danger, but the legionaries soon found that rowing a ship the size of the Severitas was no easy task. Before long, either blistered hands or pulled and strained muscles led them to relinquish the task to the professional rowers, but a bond had grown between the two sets of men as a result.
The rest of our journey was mercifully much calmer than we’d found near Corsica, and the Severitas made reasonable time, sailing over to the coast of Hispania Citerior. She was hampered by the lack of a foremast sail, but the calm seas and experience of a trierarchus like Bricius made it little hindrance.
It was with much relief when, a week later, we finally approached the grand port of Tarraco, capital of the province of Tarraconensis and home to Governor Livianus, who I was to meet. The large Roman port had an impressive stone harbour, and the city itself was protected by high sandstone walls. Neat Spanish fields and olive groves surrounded the prosperous-looking city, and after our time at sea, it was a beautiful sight to behold.
Aulus was uncharacteristically cheerful as we approached the docks. ‘Look! They even have their own theatre.’ He pointed to a round amphitheatre outside the walls.
I gave a twisted smile. ‘I’m not sure we’re going to have much time to take in any plays, you know.’
Aulus closed his eyes in mock serenity. ‘Just knowing it’s there reminds me we’re finally in civilisation again. Bliss.’
Marcus rubbed his hands in excitement. ‘I can’t wait, Cassius. This is the land of a thousand stories from my childhood. Where the great generals of our past – men like Scipio – fought Hannibal and his Carthaginian army.’
Aulus looked over at Marcus. ‘I think you’ll find that most of Hannibal’s army were in fact mercenaries recruited from the tribes of these provinces. Hannibal taught them to fight with discipline and order.’
I burst out laughing. ‘Since when have you known anything about Hannibal and his army? What do you know of discipline and order in the shield wall?’
Aulus stood up straighter. ‘I may not be much of a military man, that’s true. But I do know my history. I have a friend, who I converse with regularly, who is an expert on the topic and writes many respected texts on the Punic Wars.’
Blasius didn’t seem to hold written accounts of the histories with the same level of respect as Aulus. He made a very uncomplimentary sound and laughed. ‘And how much time has your friend spent in any of the Spanish provinces? The Punic Wars were two hundred years ago. I was fighting here in my youth.’
Aulus wasn’t prepared to back down so easily. ‘Augustus ended the wars here thirty years ago. You don’t look old enough.’
Blasius gave a contemptuous smile. ‘The wars may have ended, but not everyone was told. When I was stationed here, there were still running battles with bandit tribes and rebellious locals. I doubt it’s changed much.’
Aulus paled. ‘You really think so?’
He nodded and looked in Aulus’ eyes. ‘You can bet your life on it.’
I sighed. ‘Leave poor Aulus alone. Surely most of the action was going on in Lusitania or Gallaecia rather than here?’
Previously, Spain had been divided into two provinces. The nearest, Hispania Citerior, and the further, Hispania Ulterior. However, since Augustus had defeated all the major Celtiberian tribes, he reorganised Spain. The lands to the south were now called Baetica and those along the eastern coast and central plains Tarraconensis. A third province had been added to the west, Lusitania. However, to the north of this new province there was still one area they weren’t quite sure what to do with – Gallaecia. Dangerous, wild and untamed, but full of gold deposits, it was just ready for Rome to exploit. Augustus had declared it part of Tarraconensis but left control of it under the Roman military legions posted there rather than under the control of the governor.
Blasius gave a shrug. ‘Maybe. But I was just making a point. Not everything can be learned from scrolls or texts.’
Marcus interrupted their squabbling. ‘Well, I’m looking forward to it. Regardless of what we find …’ He smiled over at the shore, before remembering he now had responsibilities outside of our little group. ‘I better get the men ready. I think we’ll be docking soon.’
I turned to Blasius. ‘You’d better get ready as well. We need to look our best when we’re presented to the governor.’
They both left to ready themselves, leaving me alone with Aulus, leaning on the bulwarks.
Aulus whispered to me, ‘You don’t really think we’ll find danger here do you?’
I sighed. ‘I don’t know. Sometimes I think trouble follows me.’
I clapped the trierarchus on the shoulder just before I took to the gangplank. ‘Bricius, it has been a pleasure getting to know you and your men. We will forever be in your debt. I mean it.’
Bricius shook his head and gave a gruff smile. ‘Nonsense, there’s no debt. You did as much as anyone. You look after yourself here.’
‘I will,’ I said with a smile, and gave his shoulder a squeeze. ‘Out of interest, how much weight do you think your ship can hold?’
He looked taken aback by the question. ‘Well, not much more than what we were holding on this trip. Why? Were you thinking of bringing back something else?’
‘A monoceros,’ I told him, whilst I straightened my toga.
‘A what?’ He looked at me in confusion.
I spread my arms. ‘It’s apparently a creature almost the size of an elephant, but with a great spike on its nose instead of a long trunk.’
Bricius bellowed with laughter. ‘Enough jokes, get off my ship before I throw you off.’
I decided it wasn’t worth telling him I was serious. I was sure the Severitas wouldn’t take the weight anyway, unless I was prepared to leave half my guard
in Spain on the return trip. ‘Farewell then, what are your orders now?’
‘I’ll be making my way back to Rome. I’ll return here in the first week of September if you want a trip back. After that month, you’re better off walking. The straits can be a bit dicey in autumn.’
‘They were dicey enough in summer. First week of September it is.’ I left him on the ship as I walked down the gangplank. ‘Although I might need to charter one of those cargo ships for the monoceros.’
Bricius looked down at me with a blank look on his face as I departed, trying to work out whether I was joking or not.
Marcus and my guard of Praetorians lined up for me on the dock, looking resplendent in their armour. Beyond the Praetorians stood a small crowd, no doubt wondering who this new visitor was. At the head of the crowd was a delegation from the governor, who’d come to meet us after being alerted by a messenger Marcus had sent. There were three of them, one dressed in the full military attire of a tribune.
Blasius waited on the dockside, dressed in formal toga, carrying a fasces, the symbol of my authority. The tightly bound bundle of sticks carried an axe that protruded from its side. This I could only display away from Rome, as it signified my authority over life and death outside the Roman capital. As I stepped off the gangplank, Blasius announced in his best parade ground voice, ‘All hail Quaestor Gaius Cassius Aprilis, appointed by the Senate of Rome. Here to fulfil the wishes of the first citizen himself, Imperator Augustus, who holds full imperium over the entire Roman Republic, and under whose benevolent patronage we all prosper.’
Some of the crowd were impressed; there was a general hubbub at my title and a few gave cheers at the mention of Augustus. I kept my face impassive as I walked past my line of Praetorians to the military delegation that had come to meet me.
Bedrock of Empire Page 16
