The Galley

by Paul Howard

  The soft, delicate scent of her rose water reached us. I could feel it from my toes to my hair.

  Every eye was upon her. She looked at our ship and spoke to the Centurion. We envied him the privilege.

  “Is the Captain not here?” she asked.

  The Centurion bowed and replied, “The Captain is indisposed by his duties at the moment, and regrets being unable to meet you. I am his First Officer, Lentulus Sextus.” She smiled at him, I melted inside.

  “My name is Calpurnia,” she answered, turning to her servant, “This is my servant, Sarah. She will accompany me.”

  The Centurion nodded politely at Sarah and said, “We are ready to set sail, Lady. May I escort you aboard?”

  “Thank you.” she answered, offering him her hand. Her voice was as beautiful as her looks. The Centurion ordered the hands to take care of her luggage as he led her aboard. As she came close, the scent of the women filled the gallery, it drove the men wild. I heard the Centurion speak again.

  “The Captain has asked me to convey his invitation to join him at supper, ma’am.”

  “I would be honored.” she said, and then she was out of sight. Gone, like a conjurer’s vision.

  I was so enraptured with the scene outside I had hardly noticed what was happening around me. The sight of this angel had a strong effect on all of us. Junius and Portax, quickly tried to restore order in the gallery. A number of the men were, understandably, aroused by the sight of these women. One, in particular, Number 16, was overcome by his lust and began to abuse himself right there at his oar. This practice was strictly forbidden, and Junius hollered at him.

  “You! 16! Stop now!!”

  16 had become so carried away that he paid no attention to the order. This enraged Junius. He snapped his whip and thundered toward the offender.

  “I said stop it!” he ordered, but the man did not obey. The driver lunged toward him and caught 16 on the side of his head with the whip, slicing off his right ear, which fell into 17’s lap.

  16 stopped immediately and grabbed his head, the blood streaming between his fingers as he collapsed into the pit. The Greek looked down at the limp appendage on his leg with a sickly expression on his face. He picked it up looked around confused, unsure whether he should return it to the owner or toss it away. Junius picked up the bucket and offered it to 17. He dropped the ear into it, where it landed with a disgusting ‘plup’.

  We put to sea an hour later. Departing Rhodes we headed east, bound for the Aegean. After rowing out, sail was ordered. By evening, Number 16 was feeling better. His wound had been bound and he resumed his station at the oar.

  Our meal was brought and there was meat again. The Centurion had come down to inspect the food and make sure we got it. The Captain would not trust Gracchus on this subject again. We were sailing into dangerous waters alone and he wanted us ready to give him speed when he needed it. That might have seemed like good seamanship to a reasonable man, but we were not in a reasonable situation.

  In the cabin of our Lord and Master, a very different meal was coming to an end. Sarah waited table for her mistress, and when the meal was done, she was excused. The Captain poured wine for his guest. And they had an interesting conversation. It began with the Captain commenting on Sarah’s qualities as a slave.

  “She is my servant. Not my slave,” Calpurnia answered, “I pay her.”

  “Is that because she is a Jew?” the Captain asked.

  “Why do you ask?” she said.

  “We have had a lot of trouble with the Jews,” he answered, “They do not make very willing slaves.” Calpurnia smiled at this with amusement.

  “The Jews believe themselves the chosen of God,” she said, “They are a very proud and independent people. But that is not why I pay her. She is my trusted friend. I do not believe in slavery.” She took a sip of her wine.

  “This is a very good wine.” she added.

  “You talk like a Christian,” he replied. “The strong must dominate the weak! That is the natural order of things, Lady.”

  “I do not know what nature has to do with it,” she answered. “There are hundreds of men below us who serve this ship, but not one of them owes you loyalty, Captain.”

  The Captain sat back in his chair calmly.

  “I only require their obedience,” he said, “I do not need their loyalty.”

  “Perhaps,” she answered, “But Rome holds a knife at the world’s throat.”

  “What is wrong with that?” he asked.

  “One day,” she replied, “The knife will get rusty, and the world will come crashing down on the Empire.”

  The Captain smiled softly. “That day will not come in our lifetime!” he answered. She looked at him, like a cat studying a mouse.

  “I would not be too sure of that, sir.”

  “Your ideas are too strange for me, Lady,” he said. “And frankly, they surprise me.”

  “No doubt,” she said, thoughtfully, “But there is more than one kind of slavery and I have my own reasons for feeling this way.”

  “An arranged marriage?” the Captain asked.

  Calpurnia set down her cup and answered softly, “Not by me!”

  That night as I slept, the Nubian watched me. His mind was too busy to rest.

  “You are mad, Little Roman,” he said softly, “Mad as I was once. I had almost forgotten what it is like to be as young as you. A million years ago, I had dreams. You and your nail! What are going to do?

  “I am sad for you. If you try anything, you will die. If you do not, you will lose your mind!

  “I used to hunt lions. The last time, I looked one in the eye and could not bring myself to kill it. You remind me of him with your stubbornness!

  “What am I going to do about you? I can take anything they dish out at me. But you…you are the one thing I truly dread.”

  15

  ROLLING THE DICE

  The following day began with us moving northward, past the many Greek ports that lead to the strait near Byzantium, Gateway to the Black Sea. At mid-morning the wind tapered off and we rowed well into the afternoon. When rest was finally called I reclined in the pit. As I looked at the hook in front of me an idea began to take shape in my mind. I pulled the nail out of my cloth and began to dig at the base of the hook with it. As I did, 53’s eyes widened with surprise.

  He whispered softly to me: “You must be mad! That is solid oak! It will take forever to dig it out.” I kept on chipping, he was right, but I did not care if it came out a splinter at a time.

  “You work at your oars,” I said, “You eat at your oars. You die at your oars. I have the time!” He moved closer, to block others from seeing. His next statement surprised me.

  “Mix the shavings with your saliva,” he said, “Put it back in when you are through.”

  The water bucket was passed to us. He took it and pretended to spill a little of it on the beam I was working on. All the while, he pretended not to see what I was doing. I did not know what made him decide to help. He never ceased to surprise me. That first rest period I hardly made a scratch, but it was a beginning.

  That night, the Lady stood on the prow of Antonia looking across the sea in front of us. The sensation of standing at the head of a giant ship at sea is invigorating. The steady drum of the hammers came muffled on the moist, evening air. We would sail day and night, without rest now. For our mission was one of caution. The great new ships were designed to go for long periods without landfall, if necessary. We would not put in to port until we had reached our goal.

  It was cool and clear that night. The stars were so big and bright that she felt as if she could reach up and grab a handful. Sarah brought her a shawl to fend off the night air. Calpurnia hardly noticed her. She looked up at the Milky Way overhead, so beautiful and vast, stretching across the heavens. She arched her back so far, she almost lost her balance and Sarah put her arms about her, fearing she might fall.

  “Have you ever wondered about the stars, Sarah?�
� she asked. Sarah looked up and pondered them for a moment.

  “The Egyptians say they were spit out by Ra at the moment of Creation.” she answered. Calpurnia put on the shawl and shook her head.

  “I do not mean that,” she said, “Not the mythical explanation. Have not you ever wondered what they really are?” Sarah could see that her mistress was in a dreamy mood.

  “My Lady’s mind is very far away tonight,” she said, “What are you thinking?”

  “I was just thinking,” Calpurnia answered slowly, “That this might be the last freedom I will ever have.” Sarah looked down and thought about this, sadly.

  “It may not be, Lady,” she said, “Your betrothed might prove to be a good man. You might come to love him.” Calpurnia rubbed her hands together. Her fingers were feeling the chill at last.

  “Love…,” she pondered, “You know, Sarah. I wish this voyage could never end. It is so peaceful. It really makes me calm inside. I wonder if I shall ever feel this happy again.”

  Over the next week another of our comrades succumbed and went down to Neptune. The causes: overwork, mistreatment, and most of all, Gracchus. Every chance I got, I continued to work on the wood around the hook. I was finally beginning to make progress against the hardwood. Fearing that my efforts would be discovered, I had to take my alter-ego, 52 Secundus, into my confidence. I had nothing to fear from him. He was an agreeable fellow from Venetum who detested our keepers as much as I. He proved quite trustworthy.

  An incident happened on our tenth day out. There was particular beetle on our ship which was quite inedible. In fact, it was poisonous, causing nausea and vomiting. It was useful however, for any who wished to feign illness and get out of work.

  The method employed the crushed juices of this insect mixed with a small quantity of water. Drinking this concoction was sure to produce vomiting within a few hours. The drivers and crew were not aware of this practice, although it was not used often. Once this mixture was ingested, the drinker became genuinely ill to such a degree that work seemed far less punishment.

  It was midday when the Greek arose suddenly from his position and announced that he was ill and had to go out. Once granted permission, he ran down the catwalk and stopped, vomiting on the rail right next to me. The smell was awful and I recoiled from this. The Greek looked into my eyes and whispered softly, between gasps: “Leave it there!” One look into his eyes, and I knew what he meant.

  He knew what I was doing!

  Gracchus quickly yelled for him to get below and he did as ordered. He ordered me to clean up the mess, tossing a rag at me for that purpose. I did as I was told but let the vomit soak into the seams of the rail. The odor was difficult to live with but it had the desired effect: none of the drivers wanted to place their heads into the pit at my station during inspections.

  The realization that others knew what I was doing was a grave cause of concern to me. I wondered if everybody knew about it. Later that night I learned that 53 had taken the Greek into his confidence and they formulated the plan between them. Three nights later, during the late rest, Rufrius and several lancers amused themselves with a game of dice at the front of the gallery. I had dug out all around the hook now and finally decided to try pulling it out. Just as Rufrius rolled Venus and bragged that his luck was changing for the better, the beam loosened its grab on the hook and I gingerly pulled it out.

  The Nubians eyes widened with interest at this development. I became so excited that I could hardly keep from gasping for breath. He gently placed a hand on my shoulder and whispered, “Wedge it back in as hard as you can, put the shavings in as before.” I did as he suggested, as I knew his idea was a good one. If wedged in hard enough it would show no play when we were chained in. It was at this time that the Roman’s guard was at its lowest. Since we could not get loose, there were no lancers below.

  “What do we do now?” he asked.

  “We wait,” I answered, “For Jove to roll the dice!”

  The Nubian looked at me, as if troubled by the prospect of what was coming. So was I. Anything could happen now. We had played our hand. The hook was out. Sooner or later, it would be detected. I offered a silent prayer to the Gods even though I did not believe in them. We were at the mercy of Fate. Now we could do nothing but wait for it to move.

  We did not have to wait very long.

  The following morning dawned cold and misty. A heavy fog hung over the sea as we took our stations. Outside, the sounding horn blew on deck, the hollow blast moving along the surface of the empty sea around us. A moist, ocean dew clung to everything below. Junius and Portax shivered with the cold as our morning meal was brought down. It was in the middle of it that we heard the panicked call of alarm from up top.

  Instantly the gallery bustled with activity as we threw our food down and prepared for battle. Above and below decks all was action, as the crew prepared Antonia for combat. The planking over our heads thundered with running footsteps. Rufrius rushed down the steps with his sword drawn, followed by four lancers. He quickly ordered us chained in and the drivers threaded the chains through the eyelets hastily. I looked down at our hook as the chain was fed through. It did not move at first, but as the chain rattled through, it loosened and rocked from side to side. I bit my lower lip, praying that it would not pop out and be discovered.

  My fears proved groundless. Nobody had time for inspections now. In the air was a hint of burning tallow as the ballister works on deck were lit. In the hustle, I looked out of the narrow window to see what was approaching. The sun was beginning to burn through the fog but I could not see anything at first. The Hortator took his station and we were ordered to lower oars. As I looked again, I saw the outline of two sails, followed by two more. They were coming on fast. Then, another two could be seen. A fleet of six pirate ships was preparing to engage us. As they drew nearer I could make out the sails. They were Phrygian rigged, with the distinctive stripes of Anatolia.

  Amidships on two of them I could make out two giant corvii, tall enough to engage even a tall warship like ours. They were so large that I wondered how the ships could maintain a seaworthy trim. The order came from above and the Hortator called for Battle Speed. The hammers thundered through the gallery as our oars rhythmically scooped the sea. The roundboats were now close enough that the men aboard them could be seen. Antonia, with her mighty speed, seemed as if she might show them her heels at first. But the pirates opened their phalanx as they drew near.

  The leading ship was moving into position to cut us off, drawing itself into our path directly across our bow. We were quickly ordered to ship oars and we drew them in. A few seconds later, there was a terrible, thunderous crash at our bow and the impact was so fierce that it pulled us backward and off of our benches. We quickly resumed our positions. I noticed that the impact had knocked Junius to the catwalk. I looked out of the starboard window and saw an amazing sight. The sturdy prow of Antonia had sliced through the ship in front of us and split her to the keel. Her aft section floated by our side of the ship, her rigging falling to pieces. A terrible mass of confused men and ropes were plunging into the sea. Inside I could see her slaves, looking at us haplessly. The sea, which was already to their waists, rushed into the open wreck.

  We were again ordered to lower oars and resume the battle drill as the pirates drew nearer. Antonia’s hull was undamaged but the impact had slowed us somewhat. The pirates were gaining. The second ship attempted to ram us with its prow which was reinforced with a heavy oak beam. It impacted with us, and Antonia rode up and listed sharply to port for a moment before righting herself. The roundboat glanced off of our side, surprising the pirates onboard her. A third pirate rammed us. This time, he turned to hit us broadside. Antonia listed more sharply. A number of oars, just aft of us, broke or were shoved into the gallery. One slave was lifted out his bench and yet another was nearly impaled.

  The battle had begun. The air hissed with the sound of ballister shot and the enemy’s missiles struck our hull a
nd fell in flaming showers outside of our narrow windows. The air began to fill with acrid smoke. We pulled in our oars as yet another pirate gave us his broadside. The deck all around us was filled with the voices of men in the rage of battle, cursing and shouting. A loud roar was heard outside of great ropes and pulleys. A loud bang came down so hard that it shuddered through the ship. One of the great corvii had swung onto our rail and I looked out to a dark swarm of pirates, some swinging, some running, onto our ship. The clang of sword and roar of battle was all above us.

  Another roar of pulleys could be heard from the bow. The other corvice had come down. The ship heaved forward as it struck. The pounding of angry steps filled our ears. A sound I cannot describe: of constant patter and thumping overhead. A lancer charged down the steps and called our escort up top, declaring that the ship was being overwhelmed. Outside of my window one of the pirate ship’s riggings burst into flames.

  In the midst of this mayhem, I surveyed the gallery and our warders. There were only the two drivers, Rufrius, and the Hortator, who were occupied with the sounds over us. Junius was moving up the catwalk, his eyes on the deck above. Slowly, he stepped closer to me but he was still out of reach. From the corner of my right eye I saw the Greek, looking at me with expectation on his face. Junius stepped even closer. I turned to Number 53, his eyes telling me not to act, but his every muscle tight and ready to pounce. Junius had the key to the starboard lock.

  He was now within six feet of me. The sound and smoke of the battle grew above us. As yet, neither pirate nor Roman crew set foot on the steps. I turned back to Junius. He was right next to me on the catwalk. It was now or never. I jerked the hook out of the rail and sprang upon him, wrapping the chain about his neck. He lunged forward and almost pulled me off-balance. I reacted quickly and pulled hard upon the chain. 53 sprang to his feet and wrapped his long arm around Junius’ chest. The driver cried out and reached for the chain but the Nubian grasped his head between his hands and snapped it to the left with terrible force. Junius’ neck cracked and he went limp. 53 quickly grabbed the key from his belt.