by Paul Howard
The Gaul went forward and Gracchus continued his appraisal. Finally, he stopped at Number 93. “You are still ugly and stupid,” he sneered, “Do you want to go?” The Chinese looked up at him with an uncharacteristic look of apathy on his face. Gracchus chuckled to himself.
“Maybe you are not so stupid after all! Get up here.”
93 quickly joined us and we all looked each other surprised and suspicious. It seemed so unlikely that Gracchus would have chosen the four men who slept in the same group without knowing it. What was he up to? Did he expect us to attempt an escape together? Was that his idea to get rid of us in one stroke? None of us said anything. But each of us knew what the other was thinking.
Once we were chained and Rufrius was satisfied we were secure, he moved us up the steps to the deck. I immediately felt the fresh sea air all around me. I had almost forgotten what it felt like. The scent was sweeter than I had remembered it. When we cleared the overhang of the gallery roof the sun filled my eyes with a blinding, white light that really hurt. We were instantly blind as we took our first steps onto the deck. Unable to see, Rufrius pulled us toward the gangway. We stumbled as best we could. One of us, I think it was 17, lost his footing and fell to the deck. I heard the crack of the lash.
“None of that,” Rufrius warned, “Get up. Now!”
“Hold there!” a voice called.
I recognized it. Through squinting eyes, I could just make out the shape of Gracchus approaching us. He stopped in front of us in the glare and grinned, widely.
“Just one more thing to remember,” he clucked, “I am sure one or all of you will try something stupid while you are out there. Like trying to escape! Feel free to try it. This is a secure harbor and you will not get far, my boys!”
He pulled out the blade and held it before us. My eyes had now become accustomed to the light. His horrid yellow teeth glistened from his grinning mouth as he spoke. “You all know the penalty for attempting to escape. I have not used this yet on this trip.” He looked at each of us in turn.
“Maybe tonight I will, eh?” he laughed sarcastically. “Have a nice time!”
He turned to Rufrius and snapped. “Take them out!” We made our way down the ramp.
The harbor at Rhodes is a busy place. It is in a position that serves all of Western Anatolia, making it an important trading point between east and west. In addition to the harbor works was a busy marketplace where seafarers from all over could get just about anything they wanted. The air was alive with music and delicious smells coming from everywhere.
Just breathing it in was a luxury to us. The air, sun, music, people and wonderful tapestry of smells lifted our hearts. Even on the stone face of 17 a hint of a smile appeared. We said nothing as we feasted on the sights and sounds around us. The hills nearby were an exquisite purple, there was green everywhere. I thanked the gods for my sense of color. It was as good as sex just to look at it all. Rhodes is really beautiful.
As we passed out of the market and over the hill toward the warehouses, Rufrius was met by the go-between assigned to us, accompanied by two lancers. As they talked we became aware of another sound, more beautiful than any music. The laughter of children playing. As we looked toward it, an awesome sight met our eyes. A great bronze statue lay in pieces on the field before us.
Even as a ruin it was magnificent!
A sculpture of exquisite detail and grace, it was both powerful and subtle at the same time. It made the hairs stand on my neck to see it. The aged bronze of burnish gold was accented by a brilliant green, which clung to its shape and followed every seam and fold. The grasses around it caressed every spot where it touched earth. Creeping up the sides of its mighty parts. The face, which lay sideways on a hillock, seemed to grow out of the earth. Giving its brave, other-worldly expression an undreamed of realism. As if the earth herself was staring back at us, proudly. Children ran and played tag through the hollow arms and legs.
Number 93 looked at it with wide eyes and finally asked, “What is that?”
“The Great Colossus,” the Greek replied proudly, “It stood in the harbor, many years ago, holding aloft a flame, like Prometheus, toward the sea. Sailors could see it from over twenty miles out!”
Rufrius snapped the whip and shouted, “You are not on a sight-seeing tour! Get moving.” We were joined by the lancers and escorted away from there, hardly able to take our eyes off of it. Rufrius paused and looked at the titan for a moment. Even he was impressed.
When we arrived at the warehouse, which was heavily guarded by Roman troops, we were directed to many stacks of wrapped bales on the wharf near the water’s edge.
“Each man takes one to the ship,” Rufrius ordered, “Then we return for more. Get going!”
We each took one. The bales appeared at first, to be of hay or grain. But they were too heavy to be what they seemed. We strained to lift them and carried them back to the ship. In trip after trip, we moved them to the cargo holds of Antonia. The sight of slaves moving cargo was no novelty at a harbor like Rhodes, and the locals paid no attention to us at all.
After the third trip we were getting tired. The journey to the ship seemed to get longer and longer. We were allowed to rest after that. Water was brought by a young girl who took pity on us, and we were told to move again.
On the fifth trip I stumbled and fell over with my heavy parcel. One end of it broke open. My eyes were met by the gleam of gold! Rufrius quickly set upon me with the lash. I do not think he saw what I was carrying, or had any idea about it. 53, who was closest to me, did see it, but did not react. If this cargo was secret, it would not be healthy for us to let on that we knew.
The sun was moving toward the horizon and the sky was turning pink as we made the last trips. As the Gaul lifted a bale to carry, I spotted something black on the wharf. A nail, about three inches long, lay on the dock right in front of me! Something as insignificant as this would hardly have caught the eye of a free man. But to a galley slave, it was worth more than gold.
A piece of metal in a world of wood and leather was power, especially a pointed one. I was so surprised to see it that I almost could not believe my eyes. Before anybody else spotted it, I picked up a bale and pretended to fall down with it, concealing this unexpected treasure with my body.
Rufrius lashed me repeatedly. This was the second bundle I had dropped and he made me pay for it. I pretended to suffer but I felt nothing. I closed the nail between my fingers and got up slowly, raising my parcel to go with Rufrius chewing upon me for the whole time. As soon as his breath ran out or somebody else slipped, he turned away from me. As soon as nobody was looking I popped it into my mouth, pretending to scratch my nose.
Half an hour later, we had returned for the last load. I had just picked up a bale when suddenly I heard a commotion going on near me. The Gaul dove into the bay, tossing the bale in before him. The lancers and warehouse crew sprang into action. They attacked the water with their spears and one or two dove in after him, others ran to the edge of the wharf to cut him off.
A furious scramble of angry men set into motion to locate the escapee, but no sign of him could be seen. In the confusion I removed the nail from my mouth and shoved it down the back of my loincloth, placing it in the only private opening a galley slave could put anything into. It hurt me, but I did not care.
At first, I was as puzzled by the Gaul’s disappearance as the guards. I looked over at 53. He glanced down at the dock below us: through a crack in the wharf, I saw the faint glint of a human eye. We quickly raised our bundles and played dumb.
Rufrius, now sweaty and frustrated, led us angrily back to the ship. He dreaded the anger of Gracchus for good reason. He greeted us at the gang, his hands upon his hips, and just glared at Rufrius with that single, angry eye. As we stowed our bundles into the hold, he braided Rufrius mercilessly. It was gratifying to hear him harassed for a change.
As I anticipated, we were searched by Gracchus before our shackles were removed. He was still red-face
d and puffing from the haranguing he gave his lieutenant as he ran his hands through my hair and checked my fingers.
“Mouth!” he demanded, and I quickly opened it for him to inspect. He ran his hands over my shoulders and smiled.
“This rowing agrees with you,” he said, “With broad shoulders like that, you should fetch a pretty good fee from the mates.” He looked me in the eye and gave an evil smile.
“Alright, you are clean!”
He signaled for the guard to remove the chains and let me down.
All this time the nail was hurting me. I was getting very sore. I concealed my pain as I assumed my spot. I had thought of “going out” to remove it, but the thought occurred to me that the poop had an open floor and I might drop it. I crawled down into the well out of sight and pulled it out. It had blood on it and this raised my concern. A stain on my loincloth could give me away. I made an effort not to turn my back to any of the drivers for the rest of that night, just in case.
After the evening meal a detachment approached the ship with something hog-tied to a rail. It was the Gaul. He had been captured after all. Gracchus looked out of the window and smiled.
“So,” he exclaimed, “He is still alive!” he turned to us and bellowed, “Let this be a lesson to all of you!” He drew his blade before us, ordered us chained, and went up top.
I have never seen a man drawn before. I have no wish to. Just hearing it was enough. An eerie stillness hung over the gallery, like a spell of gloom. It was quiet at first. Then it began. I cannot describe what we heard. There was no yelling or screaming. Only a soft, airy moan, accompanied by the most pitiful weeping I ever heard. It was not loud but it went through the slaves like a knife, ripping our heads along with our insides.
The gruesome ritual lasted for nearly half an hour. It seemed like a week. Nobody uttered a word or made a sound. We all knew what the other was feeling. The silence among galley slaves is one of the most telling conferences of all. Eye contact is enough. That night, we did not even need that. We could feel it everywhere.
Later, in spite of my fatigue, I found it hard to sleep. I was not alone. None of the men felt much like it. I kept hearing those moans in my head. The chill seemed to cling to the bilge that night, like an awful sentinel of despair. Was it the cold, or was it us? I could not tell.
13
THE VISITOR
I had carefully hidden the nail in a gap between the deck and the hull planking. I concealed it with my body as I lay. Although I had no thought of sleep, my mind slowly began to drift away to that place where consciousness falls apart in the drifting clouds of slumber.
Presently the mist began to clear and a great, abandoned temple stretched before me. Weathered columns rose to support a roof that was not there. Only a gray sky of troubled clouds loomed overhead. Hanging from several pillars were orange veils of the sheerest material, as in a wedding feast.
But this was no feast. The cold and gloom, born on a silent, invisible wind, only enhanced the feeling of desolation. Through the columns I could see the land just beyond. Gray and barren of feature. Completely flat to the horizon, without even a stone or trunk of tree to break the emptiness. There was a smell in the air, I did not notice it at first.
Yes, it was there.
I soon recognized it: the smell of forlorn earth, as in a cemetery outside of the Old City. A feeling grew inside me. A silent fear I could not put my finger on. Burning me like hot ice. My hair tingled.
To my left, I became aware of a soft weeping, I turned to the voice. Leaning up against a column was the Gaul. His stomach cavity opened, he held his intestines with his two hands. He looked at me with those strange eyes and spoke. “I never got to see her again. It was not worth it! Nothing is worth it. I never got to see her again!” He began to weep again and turned away from me.
I turned my face away. A figure was coming toward me. The smell of earth became very strong now. As he came near it was as if a veil had been lifted from my eyes. It was Marcus, just as I saw him last. He wore only one sandal. He smiled at me with a look of fond recognition.
“Still stuck, are you not?” he asked. I looked at him, dumbfounded. I opened my mouth to speak but nothing came out. He grinned at this and came closer to me until we were face-to-face. “I am pleased to see you here,” he said, “But I am very surprised. You thought I was crazy when I took you to see him. You did not listen…” I was finally able to force a word out. My throat ached as I spoke.
“You were the one who was stuck, Marcus. Not me.” He laughed at this remark.
“So I was,” he answered, “But you are the one who needs to get free now!” I stumbled for an answer. I could not think of one.
“You know, I really hate it when you get clever on me.” I answered.
“You are more stuck than I ever was,” he said, “You have been buried alive in a floating tomb, surrounded by the smell of human decay. Death is at your elbow all the time.”
He looked deep and probingly into my face. His eyes like two orbs, deep and dark as a pit. “You hold the key,” he declared, “Why will not you use it?” I stammered for an answer. I did not have one. He opened his hand. It held the nail.
“Use the key!”
Marcus’ face grew sad, I realized that I could see right through him, like the wind. His eyes grew smaller. I could hardly see him now. I became aware of another presence, off to my right. I looked between the columns. Where there had been nothing, a single, withered tree stood in the wasteland. I could feel it calling to me, but it had no voice that I could hear.
I left the temple and walked toward it.
“I knew you would come!” a voice said. It seemed somehow familiar. I moved around to the other side and saw the one who spoke: it was the Fisherman, Simon Peter. He hung, upside-down from the boughs of the tree. Blood trickled down his leg from the wound where he was nailed in place.
“All things are as clay, waiting for the maker to give them shape,” he said, “Do not be afraid! Fear is what makes men slaves.”
“Why should I take advice from you?” I protested. “You are nailed to a tree!”
He looked about for a moment, as if just noticing it. “Only my body is nailed to a tree.” he finally said.
“They have set me free!”
“Free?” I asked.
“Fear is what makes men slaves,” he said. Use the Key!”
“I am only one man!” I replied.
“What else do you need to be?” he answered.
The mist enshrouded me, I heard other, closer voices. I opened my eyes. It was morning and I was at my place in the bilge. Suddenly I felt the urge to take the nail, wondering for a moment, if I had only dreamt it. I reached into the crevice, it was gone!
I snapped back to being fully alert, my mind in a panic. I turned around suddenly to my bench-mate, the Nubian. He held the nail in his palm where I could see it. He spoke softly, “Little Roman, You are mad! Did last night teach you nothing?”
I snatched the nail from his hand and clutched it between my fingers. He did not try to stop me. He sighed, “That can get you killed!”
“We are all going to die anyway,” I snapped back, “You said so yourself.” He looked at me impatiently.
“You could get lucky.” he said.
“I told you, I do not believe in luck!” I said, looking around.
“I am going to get out of here! One way or another!” As I said this, I realized that I had made the decision right then.
“What are you going to do with a nail?” he asked. “Challenge Gracchus to a fencing match? Take on the Roman Navy?”
“If I have too!” I said.
I had no plan.
14
THE LADY
That morning, as the ship was preparing to put out, an unusual visitor came below. Our Lord and Master, Captain Urbano, made a surprise inspection of the gallery. He looked at us and said nothing but his expression was one of displeasure. After looking about he led Gracchus up top and
we could hear his curses from below. I could not hear what was said but the gist was that his orders for feeding the slaves better was to be obeyed, whether Gracchus liked it or not.
Later we were brought on deck in shifts, and allowed to bathe in the sea under guard. We were all puzzled by this. Nobody ever told us anything, but it was unusual. Even 53 was confused by it. While we bathed the entire floating crew was aroused and the bilge was swabbed out with strong, pine oil soap. When we returned, the gallery and all the slaves were clean and a hot meal awaited us. Gracchus grumbled and was extra hard on the driver crew but he said nothing to us about it. It was obvious that something different was happening.
Shortly after noon, a palanquin arrived on the dock near us. It was covered with golden silk curtains and we were all intrigued by it. Behind it, a woman in a blue robe was walking. When the Centurion came down in his best uniform she approached him and bowed. The Centurion uttered a few words of greeting but the woman cut him off abruptly.
“Are you the Captain?” she snapped.
“No, madam, I am the executive officer.” he said.
“The Captain offers his compliments and regrets he cannot greet the Lady personally. He sent me to act on his behalf.”
He strained to get a look in the palanquin but the woman moved to block him from seeing inside. “You can address yourself to me…” the woman said.
A moment later, a delicate hand pushed the curtain aside. That is the first time I saw her face. Her hair was a pale gold, which she had attractively adorned with pearls. Her eyes were the soft brown of sandalwood, which gave their black centers a deep, penetrating quality. I do not think I ever saw more delicate coloring in a face, like soft ivory. She had round, moist lips like cherry. The men in the gallery gasped at the sight of her. She was beautiful.
She stepped out of the palanquin, and we could see all of her at last. Her body was thin and delicate, with slender arms that ended in hands with long, perfect fingers. Her gown was sheer enough to tease a man to distraction. Revealing nothing, but praise the Gods! Her appearance filled the slaves with a hunger that made them forget themselves.
