The Galley

by Paul Howard

  I pulled the chart for the section of the Aegean we were in and sat at the table to study it. A minute later a knock came at the door. It was a strange sensation to experience that. Nobody had sought my permission for anything for so long the experience of this simple courtesy was a foreign one. After I did not say anything, the door opened and 53 came in. He looked about the cabin. It had been even longer for him since he had seen a comfortable room.

  He looked at me seated at the Captain’s table and smiled. I became self-conscious of my presumption and stood up.

  “You have taken this cabin, sir?” he asked politely.

  “No,” I replied, “I was just looking at the charts. Perhaps you would like to take it.” The Nubian frowned and shook his head.

  “Not me,” he answered. “You take it! If the men are going to respect you as the Master here, it is your proper place…Captain!”

  I stood up and placed my hand on his shoulder. “Not Captain,” I said. “Nothing has changed between you and me my friend. It never will as far as I am concerned.” He looked into my face and smiled, softly.

  “Alright, Little Roman,” he replied, “As we were, then. But only when we are alone…Captain!” We sat at the table and he unrolled a scroll before me.

  “Here is the tally of the ships’ company,” he started, “All the Romans and franchise operators were killed. We also lost twenty-eight of our own people, including your counterpart, 52 Secundus. There are thirty-one injured, two seriously. We are tending to them in the gallery. All told, we number two hundred ninety-eight, not counting the women.”

  “Three hundred in total.” I said, thinking aloud.

  He smiled again. “A nice, round number,” he mused. “With nowhere to go!” He looked at me with that wise, sarcastic expression I had come to know so well.

  “What about supplies?” I asked. He rolled up the scroll as he spoke.

  “We have no problem there,” he answered. “The ship was provisioned for a very long voyage, with plenty of salted meat and dried fruit. As we are still fresh out of port there are ample supplies of fresh fruit and vegetables as well. The water casks are almost full. We also have plenty of wine. I recommend we provision some out to the men tonight. They’ve earned it.”

  “Agreed,” I said, “But not too much. These people have a lot pent-up inside. It would not be wise to let them get too uninhibited.”

  He stood up. “Right! It will be as you say.” he answered, and left without another word. I returned to the chart and began to estimate our position when another knock came at the door. This time I answered it:

  “Enter!”

  The Briton came in. He did not look around as the Nubian had. Small rooms did not impress him, no matter who they had belonged to.

  “I have organized a security detail, Captain,” he said. “I think I have found men we can trust.” I nodded. He stood in front of me, expectedly. Something else was on his mind.

  “Is there anything else?” I asked. He sat down.

  “There is a lot of ordinance down there in the holds,” he answered, “Enough for a half a Legion. But there is something else.” He looked at me very seriously.

  “There is gold!” he said. “A great fortune in gold. If the men find out, we could have trouble.” He was not telling me anything I did not know but I understood his concern. A treasure in gold could turn the men against each other and end the Brotherhood.

  “What do you suggest?” I asked.

  “I have put guards on the holds,” he said, “My explanation will be that we want to keep the weapons under guard for now.” I nodded my agreement. It sounded like a good idea. He stood up and slapped his stomach.

  “Now,” he said, “For something to eat! I am starving! Do you want me to send something up?”

  “No, thank you,” I replied. “You have done well.”

  Being a man of few words, he turned and left. I was left to myself at last. In most times, this would have been a good thing. For me, it was a chance to realize the position I had put myself and the others in.

  As the evening settled in, the Lady ventured onto the deck at last. As she moved aft, a feeling of trepidation grew within her. Perhaps she was unwise to move about the ship alone. Just as she was running this thought through her mind, she heard footsteps to her left. She turned to see the tall shadow of the Nubian against the darkening sky. He nodded his head politely as he approached her, holding an oil lamp. He moved to the torch atop the castle and his face was illuminated in the light. He turned back toward her.

  “I am glad to see you have come out, Lady,” he said, “Is there anything you require?”

  “No,” she said, “Thank you. I just wanted some air. I could not breathe down there.”

  The Nubian looked up at the sky. “It will be cold soon,” he said, “You should wear a cloak if you go out.” She moved closer to him.

  “You sound like your Number 52,” she said, “Do you all go by your numbers?”

  “When we are free,” he answered, “We will reclaim our rightful names.”

  “What number are you?” she mused.

  “I am number 53.” She realized what that meant.

  “You were chained at the oar next to him,” she said, “You are his friend?”

  “More than that,” he explained, “I am his second in command.”

  Calpurnia moved to the rail and looked at the distant lights on the shore. “What sort of man is this Number 52?” The Nubian was intrigued by this question and a little envious. He had been in custody for years. It had been some time since any woman had taken an interest in him.

  “He is a man like any other, I suppose,” he said, “Why do you ask, Lady?”

  She turned toward him, her eyes sparkled in the firelight. She looked into his face and put her hand on his arm.

  “You love him!” she said. “I hear it in your voice.” He was not surprised by this statement. He pondered his answer before he spoke.

  “I love what he can become,” he said, “I fear what it may do to him.” He lit another torch. She did not know what to make of his answer.

  “What do you mean by that?” she asked. He turned back toward her and his face became serious.

  “Although all the men have taken an oath not to touch you,” he replied, “It is not wise for you to walk about on deck at night alone. If you want food, or anything else, I will send it to you. Good night, Miss.” He nodded, and turned himself to indicate the direction he expected her to move: back to the forecastle. She nodded back and bade him a good night. She knew she had been given an order, albeit a very gentle one. He watched her all the way back to the bow.

  As I tried to settle in to my new quarters, I looked at the artifacts about me, the most notable of which was a small locket with a picture of a Roman woman and child. I imagined that they were the Captain’s wife and son. It saddened me to see it. It made me realize that the tragedy of Antonia had far flung boundaries. Touching people I would never know.

  I also found his chest of clothing. He was not a rich man, but his clothes were of good quality and well kept. I tried on one of his shirts. He was not much larger than I was and it fit well. I had not worn a shirt since my clothes had been stolen on that first night of my arrest. So long ago now, it seemed. The shirt chaffed around my neck and shoulders. I had become unaccustomed to the feeling of cloth against my skin. But it was warm.

  I paced the floor of the cabin impatiently. No matter how much I tried, I could not think of a course of action for us to take. We certainly could not return to Rome and we would be outsiders wherever we went. Our giant ship could hardly go unnoticed anywhere. If we came within sight of a friendly shore, reports would surely travel by land of our movements to the powers that be.

  Sooner or later, we would draw attention to ourselves just as our presence drew the pirate fleet. I felt a growing feeling that I was unfit for the task before me. Finally, I collapsed into a chair and tried to clear my mind.

  It was just befo
re midnight that the Nubian knocked on my door again. He came in and looked about. “I noticed your light.” he said, “All is well above and below. You should get some sleep.” I looked up at him for a moment and turned my face to the empty table top.

  “What have I done?” I said. “This morning I was chained to an oar. Now, I am responsible for the lives of three hundred people! I was even foolish enough to promise them freedom…” I sighed, feeling very old. “Freedom!” I sneered. “As if I could free anyone.” He moved closer and stood over me.

  “You are tired, Little Roman,” he said, “Rest. You will think better tomorrow, once you sleep.” I looked up at him.

  “No,” I said, “I am not fit to do this. I know it. I should never have started this whole thing!” He smiled at this.

  “You did not start it,” he answered, “The Romans did when they put you in here. You only did what you had to.”

  He sat down across from me. “I shall tell you something,” he said. “I am a coward!” I looked at him shocked with disbelief. He nodded his head.

  “Yes,” he continued, “A coward. I could take no action. I stayed alive and hoped for luck. That first day, you frightened me with your mendacity. It was all over your face. I was frightened by it because I knew you would try something but I did not know what.” I was still surprised.

  “How could that frighten you?” I asked. “You are not afraid of anything!”

  “You are wrong,” he replied, “I am not frightened by other men or death. I was frightened of myself. Because I knew you could push me into believing there is hope.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Because you were right!” he said.

  “This morning, those men had nothing to look forward to but death. Tonight, they have hope again. You did that…”

  “They did that themselves!” I answered.

  “Only with your help,” he said. “It will take a strong leader to get us through what we are going to face. You are that man! That is what I saw in you that first day. 127 saw it too. You are a natural leader. You will find the answer.” He rose to his feet.

  “But not without rest,” he chided, “Save your strength, Little Roman. You will need it.” He placed a shawl over my shoulders and moved to the door. He stopped and blew out the lamp.

  “Let it rest until morning. You will see.” he said and closed the door. I took his advice and climbed into the Captain’s…my bed. I hadn’t laid in anything so soft in many months. It felt good and I passed into oblivion as soon as I lay down.

  18

  THE RAT

  When I awakened from my slumber, I looked up at the ceiling above my bed. The sunlight, reflected off of the water outside, danced and quivered on the planking, making colorful, brilliant patterns above me. The sound of the sea slapping against the hull had a soft, liquid song, accented by the groans and creaks of the ship. It was a restful, dreamy sensation. For the first few seconds I lay there, disoriented. It was so like my days of youth. Those warm, carefree summers of a bygone life. But the magic did not last, it never does. As I turned my head and stretched my limbs, the reality of present day came crashing down upon me. This was not my bed, or my father’s ship. The memory of where I was returned, along with all the trials that came with it.

  I got out of the cabin and moved onto the deck. Already, the new crew was about the business of setting sail. I looked over at the Nubian, who was standing near the helm. I wondered if he ever slept. The morning was clear and the crisp sea air cleared the cobwebs from my head. I felt the dull gnawing of hunger in my stomach. Just as I was about to move below and join the others for breakfast, the youngest of our company, Number 10 Primus, who could not have been more than fourteen, arrived with a covered tray.

  He smiled at me with a cherub-like face full of freckles. “I brought your breakfast, Captain,” he said, “Shall I take it inside and set it up?” At this moment, I could feel a pair of eyes boring into me from afar. I knew who it was. I looked up at the helm, where my old friend watched for my reaction. I let a long smile pass across my face and turned seriously back toward the boy.

  “That will be fine.” I replied. He moved inside my cabin…yes, I had to accept it, it was my cabin. I was the Captain. The eternally wise Nubian was giving advice with every move and nuance that he made.

  I moved into the cabin and assumed the new role that I had thrust upon myself. It would be a delicate balancing act for me. I had to behave as if I were in charge of everything, all matters of command deferring to me.

  This was so out of character for me. I had always had it easy. My father took care of all business matters of importance, allowing me to enjoy my pleasures without paying for it. On his ships, there was a master who took charge and bore the brunt of all accountability. At school, the masters told me what to do. In the City, there were rules of law. I simply had to obey them. In the home, the slaves took charge of everything. What I wore, what I ate, how I behaved in public, everything.

  As a galley slave, I had no responsibility at all. My drivers had taken the role of our new masters. They answered to the Romans, not I. The crew up top was answerable for the actions of the ship. Each man below was guided by his own motivations, answering to no one except his own conscience. Nobody cared what I thought of or what my beliefs were. All I had to do was service my oar and keep my mouth shut. Mere flotsam blown by the whims of Gracchus.

  Now all of that was behind me. I could not indulge in idleness. My margin for error had vanished, my mistakes would cost lives. On this ship I would be god. As the boy bowed respectfully and moved out of the cabin a terrible feeling of loneliness came over me. This was the way it was going to be from now on.

  I would have to learn to be quiet and use myself sparingly with the men. To be apart, but not beyond the access of reason. I would take advice. When I had no business on deck I would have to be absent. There could be no more easy talk and joking with the men. I had to stand for something they could look up to.

  “I said it before and I will say it again,” I thought to myself, “I should have kept my mouth shut!” At least this was in my mind. I did not know if I could endure this situation. I sat there eating and feeling sorry for myself, half expecting my First Mate to come to my rescue with his reassurance and advice. He did not appear. What a fool I was! This was my problem! A slave had entered the cabin, now a Captain would have to emerge.

  I cleared my mind of all thought as I consumed the rest of my morning meal, like clearing the board for the next move.

  As I nibbled at the last of the grapes I put my mind to the task before us. A course of action would be called for by day’s end. I needed to have one ready. The first notion that came to me was the manner in which the decision must be made. Although a ship at sea is an autocracy this situation was more complex. Every man aboard had a stake in this action. All hands would need to be present for this discussion.

  Agreement would have to be reached, or at least, a consensus. My first order would be for a meeting of all hands after our midday readings.

  In order for this meeting to be substantial I had to prepare for it. I began to pour over all the relevant charts of the Aegean and the Mediterranean. I studied the harbor works and ports from all of Europe to the northern coast of Africa. I studied the trade routes throughout our possible course opportunities. After this I opened the Captain’s sealed files and studied his logs. It was not enough to know the nautical environment we were dealing with. There were political considerations as well. We had been entombed within the bowels of Antonia for months in a volatile era of modern history. It was necessary to know what was going on out there, beyond the horizon we could see.

  I read the Captain’s orders over. They were as Severus had explained them at Brundusium, there was nothing new there. There was also the Senatorial Orders for Corbulo. Our business was too important for idle curiosity and I set them aside. I was far more interested in the latest dispatches. They revealed little of use to us. The biggest news
was that Nero was building a New Rome whose center would be a vast palace. There was talk about the expense of draining the marshes for this purpose and the notes of a Senatorial debate about the financing of this venture.

  As I made notes on these occurrences, which had no direct effect on our actions, a growing feeling of uneasiness began to take shape in the back of my mind. There was something that I should have been able to put my finger on but had not. Something, I did not know what, was wrong. Worse than that, it was something important.

  One decision was obvious: our status at sea. On previous days, I had noticed that Roman ships, whether military or privately owned, were observing the custom of lowering their flags when we passed. Our mainsail, which bore the official mark of the Roman Senate, stood out like a celibate at an orgy.

  I moved outside and called the Nubian to me, ordering that the mainsail be struck and replaced with the old one. I also informed him that a meeting would be called for all hands after the midday readings. Although he made no outward sign or gesture, I could see the look of approval in his eyes. He simply said: “Yes, sir!” and set the men about the task. I remained on deck to observe the operation, which was carried out with dexterity. As our old sail was going up and the bright, orange charging horse rose over my head, the question lingering in the back of my mind suddenly took shape.

  Why had pirates attacked a Roman warship with six roundboats and six hundred men? Pirates work for plunder. Everybody knows that. Could the shipment of weapons bound for Armenia have been the cause? How could they know about that? Or was it Antonia’s best kept secret, the gold that brought them upon us? They only attacked us with six ships. If the prize was weapons why not bring twenty ships, or forty? Why did they not hit us with such overwhelming numbers that any resistance would have been impossible?

  The question answered itself. It was the gold that they were after, not the weapons! A sense of urgency came over me. “Make ready to change course!’ I shouted. The crew looked at me, surprised. I charged for the helm. The Nubian watched me with amazement.