The sailing plan called for the galleys to detach at this point. The Nilus made the torch signals that instructed the convoy to proceed independently, and Hasdrubal in the Asia made the signal assuming command and directing the convoy to follow in his wake.
At last the ships were free to sail as they had been built. Although it was night, all three ships deployed all of their canvas to the fullest. Demetrios experimented with the tension of the sails, and aligned them slightly at an angle to the ship. He then gently turned slightly off the wind, increasing his heading to the northeast. Taking the wind more on the quarter than was customary, the ship heeled to port, and he played with the tiller, seeing just how far over he could nurse the ship. And the further over he nursed her, the faster she went. The portside was just ten feet out of the water hissing by overside, boiling in phosphorescent whiteness. The ship took the swells explosively with a heavy thump, plowing her bow into an occasional big roller which exploded in a shower of white in the moonlight and drifted back, floating like a cloud to spatter on the quarter-deck with the fury of a rain shower. Captain Demetrios rode the lunging freighter with all the careless abandon of a charioteer flogging his steeds onward around the Circus Maximus, continually trimming one sail or another to coax yet one more knot out of the wind. And, in the moonlight, the other two ships, visible as dark shapes and amber running lamps against the heaving, moon-sparkled sea, were the other chariots, likewise intoxicated with speed.
Gaius and Antonius stayed on the quarter-deck, fascinated with the change of pace and the sudden burst of efficiency of the crew. By first light, Demetrios was still at the tiller, the convoy stretched out in a line with the Asia barely visible two miles ahead, the Africa behind them by as far. Gaius estimated their speed at about eight knots, and this was still with a relatively light wind; the June monsoon had just begun and had not yet reached its full intensity.
Gaius and Antonius finally retired to their quarters with the sunrise, for it had been a long night. They became one with the motions and sounds of the ship... the constant rush of the water outside, the rhythmic thud as she muscled her way through another swell, followed by the patter of spray on the deck above. And the creaks of the finely fitted wood and the groans of the taut lines as the strains were transferred throughout the ship. And as each expected sound followed in its regular pattern, it became less and less obtrusive, until sleep overcame the two.
About four in the afternoon, both men awoke with a start, for the rhythm of the ship had ceased and the silence echoed in their heads like a shout. The deck was level, the ship not moving. Gaius gathered his tunic and ran to the side window. Sure enough, the ship lay dead in the water, wallowing back and forth with each wave. “We’ve stopped, Antonius. Let’s get on deck! I hope we haven’t run aground or broken a mast!” Gaius stepped out the door, then came back in immediately.
“Get your sword, Antonius. We’ve a ship alongside!”
“I think we would have been roused if there was a fight, sir. Perhaps they jus’ came along some disabled ship ter render aid,” said Antonius, nevertheless buckling on his sword.
“Maybe, Antonius. But that is also a good trick to get someone to stop.”
The two stepped onto the deck, just in time for Antonius to watch a man climbing over the rail from the boat alongside. Clad in loose black pantaloons and a flowing jacket, with a turban and a scarf of dark blue partially covering his face. Antonius could see the cold blue eyes, the silvery salt-and-pepper beard, and the pockmarks. “That’s him, sir! That’s Ibrahim!”
He drew his sword with a hiss, as did Gaius. “To arms, men!” Antonius cried. “Drive them off the ship, those bastards are pirates!” The ships’ officers on the quarter-deck called out commands to the crew in Aramaic, while Gaius called out to Demetrios. “You’ve been had. That man is bin Yusuf! Get your archers on deck quickly and we can sweep him clear!” Gaius was puzzled at the sad expression on Demetrios’ face, shaking his head forlornly, as though Gaius was an errant child who just didn’t understand.
Antonius charged on, expecting the crew to rally behind him. Only Galosga stepped forward, grabbing a marlinspike to aid his comrade. As Antonius leaped over the deck fittings and neared Ibrahim, the pirate gave a signal, and his bodyguards’ swords flashed to the ready.
“Antonius! Look behind you! There’s no one there!” the pirate said. Antonius gave a brief backward glance, to see that the three of them were rushing alone to their deaths. He stopped, turned and called to the crew. “Shmuel! Come on, damn you! It’s not a drill! Get yer weapons and come, or I’ll cut your guts out mesel’!” A few of the crew, unarmed, stirred guiltily, but the officers barked more Aramaic, and they held their ground.
Gaius’ stomach went cold as the reality of the situation came to him... This was a setup, planned months in advance. He pointed his sword savagely at Demetrios. “Fellator! You filthy cocksucking bastard! You surrendered this ship to him. Forget the goddamned pirate, I’ll kill you myself! Traitor!” He began to bound his way up to the quarterdeck, but the crew surged forward to seize him from behind. He inflicted a nasty sword cut on one man’s leg, but the mass of humanity bore him down.
Antonius looked at Ibrahim, then at Gaius, who had disappeared under a pile of bodies. “I’ll settle with yer in a minute, barstid!” As he turned to charge to Gaius’ rescue, one of Ibrahim’s bodyguards unleashed a sling, and the whizzing egg-sized stone caught Antonius squarely behind the ear. His world vanished with a flash of pain and light.
CHAPTER 18: RECOVERY
Antonius was floating, his body weightless in blackness, as he slowly became aware of his surroundings. His mouth was dry, very dry, like paper, and he was aware of a pain behind his right ear, but very distant, like the mutter of a summer thunderstorm. Where was he, how had he gotten here? He continued to float, in and out between total blackness and awareness. Finally, he began to remember... Ibrahim, the treacherous handover of the ship, Gaius disappearing, buried under bodies, fighting to the end. Galosga coming to his aid, the other crew members quivering like whipped dogs. And something had hit him from behind, very hard.
He listened, restoring another sense. Water was rushing by somewhere, like in a pipe.
Sensation returned. He was aware of his left cheek pressing painfully against the wooden deck, like it had been there for some time. He opened his eyes, and to his shock, saw nothing but blackness. Fear seized him... he had known men to lose their sight from a blow to the head. He tried to lift his head... and the summer thunderstorm broke with full fury. Yellow and purple lightning flashed before his eyes as the pain crashed in on him, swelling in his head, nausea exploding in his stomach. Oh, gods, don’t let me barf now! I’ll die! He lay very still, and the pain carried him away, back to the drifting floating blackness.
He awoke again a long time later. This time, he was aware of dampness, of water trickling down his cheek, past his jaw. Without moving his head, he managed to catch a drop on his tongue. It seemed more like water, a bit salty, but not the thick acrid taste of blood. He opened his eyes again, and this time caught the grey outlines of his surroundings. He listened, and heard the breathing of someone else. He lay very still, eyes open, scarcely breathing for what seemed like an eternity, not wanting to raise the pain in his head again, catching drops of water with his tongue, probing his surroundings with his eyes and ears, trying to make sense of it without moving. At last, unable to continue with his face pressed against the floor, Antonius slowly, very slowly, raised his head. His head began to throb, and more flashes, this time red ones, flared in his eyes with each heartbeat. But it was not bad enough to take him off to unconsciousness again. As he raised his head, something wet fell from behind his ear, and landed on the deck with a plop. He reached for it, and as he did, his arm met resistance, and metal clanked on metal. Chains!
“Good morning, Antonius. I see you have rejoined the living! I was worried about you. I thought you might not. You took quite a blow to the head. Slinger’s st
one, I think, or a very well-wielded club. How do you feel?” It was Gaius, somewhere behind him. Antonius heard the clink of chains that didn’t come from his own movement. Gaius must be chained up also.
“Hurts like hell, sir. An’ where are we?”
“I think we’re in the forward hold. Here, keep that wet rag on your noggin. But don’t press. You have a solid lump back the size of goose egg behind your ear, and until the swelling goes down, I can’t tell if you’ve cracked that thick skull of yours or not. So don’t press on it, and don’t move around too much.”
Antonius recovered the rag, and placed it behind his ear. He could gingerly feel the lump, easily filling the palm of his hand. “Ouch! I’m going to kill the cocksucking fellator that did that.”
“Well, you may get that chance. We’ve been down here about eighteen hours, and they sent down food and water. That’s always a good sign. If they were going to kill us, I think they would have just thrown us overboard yesterday. Your big friend is on the other side of you, by the way, but we can’t talk to each other much. He doesn’t know any Latin or Greek, and I certainly don’t know any Aramaic, or whatever else he talks.”
“Name’s Galosga.” He raised himself slowly and very carefully to a sitting position. “Eighteen hours? Have I been out that whole time?”
“Every once in a while you’d groan, so I knew you were alive. Just as well you did stay still, that’s the best thing after a head injury.”
Antonius turned, very slowly, toward Galosga on his left. “Hullo, Galosga, you big ape. If yer din’ listen ter ever’thin’ I say, you wouldn’ be down here. That’ll teach yer!” Galosga was sitting cross-legged, and smiled to see his friend stir in the semidarkness.
The three were lightly chained. Manacles on each hand, the chains run through iron rings on the bulkheads. They were able to stand and walk, and use their hands to eat, but could not go far. “Where do yer pee, sir? I feel like I ain’t, in a while.”
“There in the middle, Antonius. Try to get it into the bilges, where it can run around the ship and be someone else’s problem. It hasn’t gotten too strong in here yet.”
Antonius stood and relieved himself, then sat back down among the chains. Gaius handed him a dipper of water. “We’re right by the water tanks and we can reach the valve, so water is no problem. Food’s been sufficient... barely. Crew’s leftovers. I saved you some, if you’re hungry.”
Antonius declined. “No, I’m not ready ter eat just yet. I’m afraid I might just bring it all up if I move me head wrong. Save it fer later. How come they din’ just kill us?”
“I’m not sure. This looked like a well-planned setup, and once more, your instincts were right. Demetrios and our officers were in on this, and I suspect Hasdrubal was, also. You and I have done this once or twice before, but if Aulus winds up in Asia’s hold, he’s going to get very scared fast.”
“Yeah, ‘member that German chieftain, what was his name, Arcintorix, I think. Surprised our century one night with a neat ambush, an’ you an I spent ‘bout a week in his cow barn. Had a nice daughter though... very nice!”
“Sounds like you got to know her well, Antonius!” Gaius chuckled.
“Right well, while yer were out shoveling cow shit fer her father that day, beggin’ yer pardon, of course... she and I got ter be... friends.”
“You’re kidding, of course. Both of us were in chains, and you went after his daughter.”
“‘S’truth, sir!” Antonius began to laugh. “... Ouch!” the laughter had been a bit much, bringing another wave of pain through his head. The story was, however, quite true. “Oh, I wish I had me capsula! I have some willow bark in there. But it’s in me quarters topside.” One of Antonius’ specialties was that of medical field orderly, or capsularius, from the brass metal capsula in which were kept clean, dry bandages, horsehair for suturing up wounds, and vials, and potions, and always lots of willow bark, famous for its analgesic properties.
“Remind me to ask the servant for some willow bark, when he brings us dinner.” Gaius replied, then attempted to nod off to nap.
CHAPTER 19: CROSS AND DOUBLE CROSS
Titus had not taken the shipwrecked slave’s story seriously at first. It sounded like an illusion from drinking too much saltwater in the shattered lifeboat. The slave had been picked up just off the naval station, raving about a rich convoy about to be hijacked to Parthia. He claimed he had been captured by pirates, and escaped in a ship’s boat while they were careening the ship’s hull in a harbor. He spun a story of the multi-millionaire Hasdrubal, in cahoots with bin Yusuf to plunder the richest convoys in history and escape to Parthia. Cornelius was just about ready to ship him back to Alexandria, when an official letter came from the garrison commander at Myos Hormos, informing him that such a convoy had just sailed... under Hasdrubal, with galley escort all the way to Veni Etiam. Cornelius, on a bet, had the slave carefully interrogated again, then questioned him himself.
“And that is a nice story, Philipus,” said Titus, after listening to the tale and asking the same questions over and over. The slave had not slipped once. Even when Titus intentionally asked the wrong question, the slave corrected him. “Now what proof do you have that will stand up in a Roman court of law that this highly-placed person is in league with the devil bin Yusuf?”
Philipus stammered, “Your lordship, I overheard bin Yusuf himself say that Hasdrubal had all the incriminating records kept under a floorboard in his cabin. That’s what I heard.”
“Well, we shall just find out, shan’t we,” said Titus. He certainly did not intend to incite the ire of any high-placed personage like Hasdrubal. Hasdrubal may be a Phoenician, and he may not be a citizen, but he had millions of sesterces that buy a lot of support.
Titus Cornelius deployed with three liburnians at the time Philipus predicted, late in the first week of June, enjoying the clear air that went with the start of the summer monsoon. He took Philipus with him, just in case this turned out to be a ghastly mistake. Those ships shouldn’t be going up this way, as the Myos Hormos letter had clearly stated their destination was India, not Parthia. Most likely, the liburnians would sweep back and forth, tracking east and west for a few days and return to port empty-handed, to send Philipus on his way home.
Titus Cornelius had no illusions about his position. This could be some sort of Parthian ruse, to draw part of the Roman squadron out to sea. The naval station at Masira was a Roman toehold on the southerly approach to the Parthian Gulf, with just twelve lightweight liburnians under his command. Titus had left the naval station on an alert state against that possibility, with orders to evacuate if that were the case.
On the sixth day of June, the lookouts sighted first one, then another, sail on the horizon, northbound, each with the distinctive triangular topsail of the heavy Roman freighter. “Hmm, Philipus,” said Titus, scanning the horizon, “You’ve a rather high success rate for a refugee from a pirate ship’s hold.”
Hasdrubal cursed his luck for blundering into the three liburnians. “Bring me Galba on deck now, and get him into a reasonably clean toga.”
The Senator was brought before him about an hour later. “Galba, do exactly as I tell you. I will do all the talking, and you will confirm everything I say. Everything.” He blandished a short dagger. “We can outfight those light galleys, as you well know,” he said, motioning toward the heavy ballistae.
“You bastard! I’ll not cooperate with you!”
“Yes, but you must admit that we do have a good chance to escape those ships and if we do, I know that you would not want anything to happen to the beautiful, pregnant Livia, now would you?”
Aulus turned florid with anger, but fell silent.
“Ahoy! Heave to and state your business! And stand away from the ballistae!” the liburnian flagship hailed them. Hasdrubal gave the order, and the sails luffed on the Asia and Africa, hoisted to the yards by the brailes. “This is the Asia, out of Myos Hormos. How may I help you?” cried Hasdrubal, cupping
his hand to focus his voice across the water.
“Stand by to be boarded. We are coming alongside!” Cornelius lowered the corvus boarding ramp gently onto the Asia’s gunwhale, towering fifteen feet above the small liburnian’s deck. The corvus was steeply inclined making the boarding somewhat dangerous as the two ships pitched and rolled restlessly. Nevertheless, about twenty marines clambered aboard, followed by Titus Cornelius and the slave Philipus, under the watchful eyes of the liburnian’s ballista crew and the bowmen, who had each selected a crewman to shoot in the event the ship attempted to escape or repel the boarding party. Titus grudgingly gave the slave a hand to assist him up the steep incline.
“Hasdrubal of Tyre? And this is Senator Aulus Aemilius Galba, I presume.” Titus appeared puzzled at the Senator’s dirty appearance, then wrinkled his nose as he caught the man’s unwashed scent. Hasdrubal interceded quickly. “I am he, and this is the good Aulus Aemilius. We are glad to see you as we had a most unfortunate experience with a storm. We have become separated from one of our ships, the Europa. Have you heard anything of her?”
“Nothing. Nor of a storm south. Where are you bound?” asked Titus.
Hasdrubal paused for a noticeably long time, then answered very measurably. “We were bound for Muziris in India, but we’ve been blown off course, and wanted to refill our water supply at your naval station before going on.”
The Eagle and the Dragon, a Novel of Rome and China Page 14
