"Thanks," Marcus said suspiciously, wondering if Crixus had meant to let him dive without it, changing his mind at the last moment. He tied the rope securely and looked at the cold water below, scythed into plough lines by the rudders. A thought struck him.
"Where's the other end?"
Crixus had the grace to look embarrassed and confirmed Marcus's earlier suspicions. Mutely, he pointed to where the rope was made fast, and Marcus nodded, returning to his inspection of the waves.
Then he dived, turning slightly in the air to hit the gray water with a hard smacking sound.
Marcus held his breath as he plunged under the surface, jerking as the rope stopped his descent. He could still feel movement as the ship started to tow him. He fought to reach the surface and gasped in relief as he broke through the waves near the rudders.
He could see their dark flanks cutting the waves and tried to find a handhold on the slippery surface above the waterline. It was impossible and he found he had to swim strongly just to stay near them. As soon as he slowed his hands and legs, he drifted out until the rope was taut again.
The cold was cramping his muscles and Marcus realized he had only a short time before he was useless in the water. Gripping his dagger tightly in his right fist, he gulped breath and dived below, using his hands to guide him down the slippery green underside of the nearest rudder.
At the base, his lungs were bursting. He was able to hold himself for a few seconds while his fingers scrabbled around in the slime, but he could feel nothing that felt like the sort of shell Crixus had told him to expect. Cursing, he kicked his legs back to the surface. As he couldn't hold the rudders to rest, he felt his strength slipping away.
He pulled in another breath and disappeared down into the darkness once more.
Crixus felt the presence of the old gladiator before he saw him reach his side and look down at the quivering rope in the water between the rudders. When he met the man's eyes, Crixus could see gray anger and took a step back in reaction.
"What are you doing?" Renius asked quietly.
"He's checking the rudders and cutting off barnacles," Crixus replied.
Renius's lip twisted with distaste. Even with one arm, he radiated violence, standing utterly still. Crixus noticed the gladius strapped to his belt and wiped his hands on his ragged cloth leggings. Together, they watched Marcus surface and go under three more times. His arms flapped aimlessly in the water below and both men could hear his exhausted coughing.
"Bring him up now. Before he drowns himself," Renius said.
Crixus nodded quickly and began to haul in the rope, hand over hand. Renius didn't offer to help him, but standing with his hand resting on the gladius hilt seemed enough encouragement.
Crixus was sweating heavily by the time Marcus reached the deck level. He hung almost limp in the rope, his limbs too tired to control.
As if he were loading a bale of cloth, Crixus pulled him over the edge and rolled him faceup on the deck, eyes closed and panting. Crixus smiled as he saw the dagger was still in one hand and reached for it. There was a quick sound behind him, and he froze as Renius brought his sword into the line of sight.
"What are you doing now?"
"Taking the dagger! He... he had to bring a shell back..." the man stammered.
"Check his other hand," Renius said.
Marcus could barely hear him through the water sounds in his ears and the pain in his chest and limbs, but he opened his left fist and in it, surrounded by scratches and cuts, was a round shell with its live occupant glistening wetly inside.
Crixus's jaw dropped and Renius waved him away with his sword.
"Get that second mate to gather the men... Parus, his name was. This has gone far enough."
Crixus looked at the sword and the man's expression and didn't argue.
Renius crouched at Marcus's side and sheathed his sword. Reaching over, he slapped Marcus's white face a few times, bringing a little color back. Marcus coughed wretchedly.
"I thought you'd stop when you nearly fell off the spar. What you think you are proving, I don't know. Stay here and rest while I deal with the men."
Marcus tried to say something, but Renius shook his head.
"Don't argue. I've been dealing with men like these all my life."
Without another word, he stood and walked to where the crew had gathered, taking a position where they could all see him. He spoke through teeth held tightly together, but his voice carried to all of them.
"His mistake was expecting to be treated with honor by scum like you. Now, I don't have the inclination to win your trust or your respect. I'll give you a simple choice from this moment. You do your jobs well. You work hard and stand your watches and keep everything tight until we make port. I have killed more men than I can count, and I will gut any man who does not obey me in this. Now be men! If anyone wants to make pretty words to argue with me, let him take up a sword and gather his friends and come against me all at once."
His voice rose to a bellow. "Don't walk away from me here and plot in corners like old ladies in the sun! Speak now, fight now, for if you don't and I find whispers later, I will crack your heads open for you, I swear it!"
He glared around at them and the men looked at their feet. No one spoke, but Renius said nothing. The silence went on and on, growing painful. No one moved; they stood like statues on the decks. At last, he took a breath and snarled at them.
"Not a single one of you with courage enough to take on an old man with one arm? Then get back to your work and work well, for I'll be watching each one of you and I won't give warnings."
He walked through them and they parted, standing mutely aside. Crixus looked at Parus and he shrugged slightly, stepping back with the rest. The Lucidae sailed on serenely through the cold sea.
Renius sagged against the cabin door as it closed behind him. He could feel his armpits were damp with sweat and cursed under his breath. He was not used to bluffing men into obedience, but his balance was terrible and he knew he was still weak. He wanted to sleep, but could not until he had finished his exercises. Sighing, he drew his gladius and went through the strokes he had been taught half a century before, faster and faster until the blade hit the roof of the small space and wedged. Renius swore in anger and the men near his door heard him and looked at each other with wide eyes.
That night, Marcus was standing at the prow on his own, looking out at the moonlit waves and feeling miserable. His efforts of the day had earned him nothing, and having to have Renius clear up his failure felt like a metal weight in his chest.
He heard low voices behind him and swung to see black figures coming around the raised cabins. He recognized Crixus and Parus, and the man from the high rigging, whose name he did not know. He steadied himself for the blows, knowing he couldn't take them all, but Crixus held out a leather cup of some dark liquid. He was smiling slightly, not sure Marcus wouldn't dash it out of his hand.
"Here. I promised you a drink if you picked up a shell, and I keep my promises."
Marcus took the cup and the three men relaxed visibly, coming over to lean against the side and look out over the black water as it passed below them. All three had similar cups, and Crixus filled them from a soft leather bag that gurgled when he shifted its weight under his arm.
Marcus could smell the bitter liquid as he raised it to his mouth. He had never tasted anything stronger than wine before and took a deep gulp before he realized that whatever it was stung the cuts on his lips and gums. In reflex, just to clear his mouth, he swallowed and immediately choked as fire burst in his stomach. He fought for breath and Parus reached out an arm and thumped his back, his face expressionless.
"Does you good, that stuff," Crixus said, chuckling.
"Does you good, First Mate," Marcus replied through his spluttering.
Crixus smiled. "I like you, lad. I really do," he said, refilling his own cup. "Mind you, that friend of yours, Renius, now he is a truly evil bastard."
T
hey all nodded and peacefully went back to watching the sea and the sky.
CHAPTER 20
Marcus viewed the busy port with mixed feelings as it grew before him. The Lucidae maneuvered nimbly through the ancient stones that marked the edge of the wild sea and the calm lake of the harbor itself. A host of ships accompanied them, and they had had to stand off from the harbor for most of the morning until a harassed pilot took a boat out to guide them in.
At first, Marcus had thought nothing of the month at sea, considering it with as much interest as he might consider a walk from one town to another. Only the destination had been important in his mind. Now, though, he knew the name of each one of the small crew and had felt their acceptance after that night spent drinking on the prow. Even the return of Firstmate to light duties hadn't spoiled things with the men. Firstmate, it seemed, bore no grudges and even seemed proud of him, as if his acceptance by the crew were in some way his doing.
Peppis had never stopped sleeping in corners on the decks at night, but he had filled out a little with the food Marcus saved for him, and the beatings had stopped by some unseen signal amongst the men. The little boy had become a much more cheerful character and might one day be a sailor, as he hoped.
To some extent, Marcus envied the boy; it was freedom of a kind. These men would see all the ports of the known world while he marched over foreign fields under the baking sun, carrying Rome always with him.
He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, trying to sift apart all the strange scents on the sea breeze. Jasmine and olive oil were strong, but there was also the smell of a mass of people again—sweat and excrement. He sighed and jumped as a hand clapped onto his shoulder.
"It will feel good to get land under our heels again," Renius said, staring with him into the harbor town. "We'll hire horses to take us east to the legion and find your century to get you sworn in."
Marcus nodded in silence and Renius caught his mood. "Only memories stay the same, lad. Everything else changes. When you see Rome again, you'll hardly know it and all the people you loved will be different. There's no stopping it; it's the most natural thing in the world."
Seeing Marcus wasn't cheered, he went on.
"This civilization was ancient when Rome was young. It's an alien place to a Roman, and you'll have to watch their ideas of soft living don't spoil you. There are savage tribes that raid across the border in Illyria, though, so you'll see your share of action. That got your interest, did it?" He laughed, a short bark. "I suppose you thought it would be all drill and standing in the sun? Marius is a good judge, lad. He's sent you to one of the hardest posts in the empire. Even the Greeks don't bend the knee without a good deal of thought, and Macedonia is where Alexander was born. This is just the place to put a bit of strength into your steel."
Together they watched as the Lucidae eased against the dockside and ropes were thrown and tied down. In a short while, the little trader was tethered securely and Marcus almost felt sorry for her sudden loss of freedom. Epides came out on deck dressed in a chiton, a traditional Greek tunic worn at knee length. He glittered with jewelry and his hair shone with oil in the sun. He saw the two passengers standing at the side waiting to disembark and walked over to them.
"I have grave news, gentlemen. A Greek army has risen in the north, and we could not put in at Dyrrhachium as planned. This is Oricum, about a hundred miles to the south."
Renius tensed. "What? You were paid to put us down in the north, so that we could join the lad's legion. I—"
"It was not a possibility, as I said," the captain replied, smiling. "The flag codes were quite clear as we neared Dyrrhachium. That is why we have been following the coast south. I could not risk the Lucidae with a rebel army drunk on broken Roman garrisons. The safety of the ship was at stake."
Renius grabbed Epides by his chiton, lifting him up to his toes.
"Damn you, man. There's a bloody great mountain between here and Macedonia, as you are well aware. That is another month of hard travel for us and great expense, which is your responsibility!"
Epides struggled, his face purpling in rage.
"Take your hands off me! How dare you accost me on my own ship? I'll call the harbor guards and have you hanged, you arrogant—"
Renius shifted his grip to a ruby on a heavy gold chain around Epides's neck. With a savage jerk, he broke the links and tucked it away into his belt pouch. Epides began stuttering with incoherent anger and Renius shoved him away, turning to Marcus as the man fell sprawling onto the deck.
"Right. Let's get off. At least we can afford to buy supplies for the trip when I sell the chain."
When he saw Marcus's gaze flick behind him, Renius spun and drew his sword in one motion. Epides was lunging with a jeweled dagger, his face contorted.
Renius swayed inside the blow clumsily and ripped his gladius up into the man's smooth-shaven chest. He withdrew the blade and ran it over the chiton in quick wipes as Epides fell to the deck, writhing.
"Drunk on broken garrisons, was it?" he muttered, struggling to sheathe the sword. "Damn this scabbard—won't stay still..."
Marcus stood stunned at the quick death, and the nearby members of the crew gaped at the suddenly violent scene. Renius nodded to them as the gladius slid home.
"Get the ramps down. We have a long journey ahead of us."
A section in the side was opened and plank gangways were put down to allow the cargo to be unloaded. Marcus shook his head in silent disbelief. He checked his belongings for the last time and patted his sides, feeling again the loss of his dagger, which he'd given to Firstmate the previous evening. He had known it was the right thing to do somehow, and the smiles of the crew as the man had shown it around had told him he had made the right choice. There were no smiles now and he wished he'd kept it.
He pulled his pack onto his shoulders and helped Renius with his.
"Let's see what Greece has to offer," he said. Renius grinned at his sudden change in mood, walking past the twisted body of Epides without looking down. They left the Lucidae without a backward glance.
The ground moved alarmingly under his feet and Marcus swayed uncertainly for a few moments before the habit of years reestablished itself.
"Wait!" a voice called behind them. They turned to see Peppis coming down the ramp in a flurry of arms and legs. He pulled up breathlessly, and they waited for him to calm enough to speak.
"Take me with you, sir," he said, looking beseechingly at Marcus, who blinked in surprise.
"I thought you wanted to grow up to be a sailor," he said.
"Not anymore. I want to be a fighter, a legionary like you and Renius," Peppis said, the words rushing out of him. "I want to defend the empire from savage hordes."
Marcus looked at Renius. "Have you been talking to the boy?"
"I told him a few stories, yes. Many boys dream of being in the legions. It is a good life for a man," Renius replied without embarrassment.
Peppis saw Marcus waver and pressed on. "You'll need a servant, someone to carry your sword and look after your horse. Please don't send me back."
Marcus shrugged his pack from his shoulders and handed it to the boy, who beamed at him.
"Right. Carry this. Do you know how to look after a horse?"
Peppis shook his head, still beaming.
"Then you will learn."
"I will. I will be the best servant you ever had," the boy replied, his arms wrapped around the pack.
"At least the captain can't object," Marcus said.
"No. I didn't like the man," Renius replied gruffly. "Ask someone where the nearest stables are. We'll move on before dark."
The stables, the travelers' resting house, the people themselves, were a peculiar mixture to Marcus. He could see Rome in a thousand small touches, not least the serious-faced legionaries who marched the streets in pairs, looking out for trouble. Yet at every step he would see something new and alien. A pretty girl walking with her guards would speak to them in a string of soft
gibberish that they seemed to understand. A temple near the stables was built of pure white marble as at home, but the statues were odd, close to the ones he knew, but with different faces cut into the stone. Beards were much in evidence, perfumed with sweet oils and curled, but the strangest things he saw were on the walls of a temple devoted to healing the sick.
Half- and full-size limbs, perfectly formed in plaster or stone, hung on the outer walls from hooks. A child's leg, bent at the knee, shared the space with the model of a woman's hand, and nearby there was a miniature soldier made from reddish marble, beautiful in its detail.
"What are those?" Marcus had asked Renius as they passed.
"Just a custom," he said with a shrug. "If the goddess heals you, you have a cast of the limb made and presented to her. It helps to bring in more people for the temple, I should think. They don't heal anyone without a little gold first, so the models are like a sign for a shop. This isn't Rome, lad. They are not like us when you get down to it."
"You don't like them?"
"I respect what they achieved, but they live too much in the glories of the past. They are a proud people, Marcus, but not proud enough to take our foot off their necks. They like to think of us as barbarians, and the highbred ones will pretend you don't exist, but what good is thousands of years of art if you can't defend yourself? The first thing men must learn is to be strong. Without strength, anything else you have or make can be taken from you. Remember that, lad."
At least the stables were like stables anywhere. The smell brought a sudden pang of homesickness to Marcus, and he wondered how Tubruk fared on the estate and how Gaius was handling the dangers of the capital.
Renius patted the flank of a sturdy-looking stallion. He ran his hands down its legs and checked the mouth carefully. Peppis watched him and mimicked his action, patting legs and checking tendons with a serious frown on his face.
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