by Paul Howard
Eventually I would spend the whole day looking forward to the time I could be with her, almost envying the time she would spend helping others. One evening, after a demanding afternoon on the ship, I took a walk inland to visit a spring the men had told me of. On my way I noticed two figures walking hand in hand along the south dunes. It was 127 and Sarah. The relationship between them was developing into something special and they looked so happy together. This thought pleased me as I had grown quite fond of them both.
Eventually I reached the spring just as the moon was coming out. It was a cool evening in early autumn and being there alone relaxed me. There was a tiny waterfall feeding into the spring and the light of a full moon caused sparkles to dance on the falls like tiny stars. It was beautiful. No garden in Rome or Pompeii was more serene or blessed with such natural splendor. I lay down on the cool grass and closed my eyes. I could not remember the last time I had felt so at ease.
The gentle patter of the water filled me with a dreamy calm and I let go of everything and allowed myself to enjoy it. I lost all sense of time. The night closed in gently about me as the twilight gave way to a sea of stars above. The sweet smell of cool water mingled with the aroma of the grass to create a gentle perfume. I breathed in deeply and probably would have drifted off into sleep if undisturbed, but this was not to be.
For no sooner had I become fully relaxed when the sound of soft footsteps approaching brought me back to reality. I sat up quickly to see what was making them and startled Calpurnia, who thought she too was alone.
“I am sorry,” she said, “I did not know you were there. I will leave you alone…”
“No, please,” I answered, “Do not go away. I was just resting.”
I patted the ground next to me and invited her to sit on the grass. She smiled and joined me. She stretched out her arms and breathed in evening’s soft bouquet.
“I love this place,” said she, “It reminds me of my home. We had a pool much like this on our estates and I would frequently spend my afternoons reading and relaxing there.” She turned her face toward mine. The moonlight caught the sandy outlines of her hair with a soft, blue luminance. I found myself thinking that Venus herself could not surpass such beauty. The more I looked at her, the more I found it hard to collect my thoughts. I struggled for a reply.
“Where is your home?” I asked.
“Narnia,” she replied, “Have you ever been there?”
I shook my head. She continued, “It is very beautiful. Especially at this time of year. The harvest has been brought in, some fields are going to sleep for the winter, and others are waking up. It is a time of change. The brown hillsides await the rains of autumn. Only the vineyards and the trees are green. For the farmers it is a time of celebration and thanks. There is music and festival everywhere.”
“That is right at the heart of Italy, is it not?” I asked.
“It is the very heart of Italy,” she answered, “A place of steep hills and mountainsides. So far away…”
She turned her head and looked at the sky. As if memory had carried her away.
“We shall never see that world again.” she said.
“Never is a long time,” I answered, “You may see it yet.” She looked at me and her expression hardened.
“What do you mean by that?” she asked.
Without meaning to do so, I had revealed a thought that had been turning in the back of my mind. She saw right through it. Realizing that she had me cornered, I decided it was wiser to take the plunge.
“When we leave here,” I responded, “It is my intention to put you and Sarah off at a safe port so that you may resume your journey.” She looked at me as if I had struck her with my fist.
“Put us off? Why?” she demanded.
“This is not your fight. We have no right to involve you in this,” I replied, “We are all condemned men. We were before we took the ship. Now we are slaves in rebellion aboard a military vessel. Mutineers. Traitors. There is no more serious offense in the Empire. There is not one of us who could ever hope to set foot on Roman soil again. You and your servant are free to denounce our actions and resume your place in society.”
“You do not really believe we would do that!” she said, feeling hurt.
“I pray to the gods that you will do it,” I said, “For your own sake as well as ours. I have enough to think about without having your blood upon my hands.” She thought about this for a few moments and finally responded.
“That decision should rest with us,” she said, “Sarah and I did not choose this situation but we have done just as much as any man here for the Antonia Brotherhood. I shouldn’t need to remind you of what Sarah has already been through on its behalf.”
“No. I do not need to be reminded of that,” I said, “It is already on my conscience. I cannot bear to put either of you through more suffering than you have already endured.”
She stood up and folded her arms. The expression on her face puzzled me. “As the Captain it is your prerogative to order us off,” she answered. “But if you are truly the man of your word that I believe you to be, you will not do so, because the choice rests with each of us to decide his own fate. Those are your words! Sarah and I have earned the right to choose just the same as the others have. You know that is true.”
She had me. I rose to my feet and took her in my arms.
“Then I beg you, Calpurnia,” I pleaded, “Do as I ask! Let us put you off at a safe harbor. The sound in your ears is not your heart beating but the drums of war. Antonia is a doomed ship! All that looms before us now is death. I could not bear to see you die.”
“I would die,” she said softly, “If you left me behind.” She caressed my face in her hands. “Not as a member of the Brotherhood, but as a woman. My heart belongs to a man who has no name. Just 52. Inside of me there is only 52. I have no choice. I am 52!”
I could feel her words taking away my will to resist. I looked deep into her eyes and it seemed as if the whole world had stopped. I could feel my mind turning into jelly. Without conscious effort or thought I closed my eyes and our lips touched at last.
I have never had difficulty putting things into words. But I will never be able to describe that kiss.
22
THE CHOICE
I cannot tell if the kiss was long or short. Her touch, her breath, the sweet taste of rose water overwhelmed my senses and I lost all track of time. When we separated I realized that she wanted me as much as I did her. With any other woman I might have taken her on the spot. This was different. I had never felt this way before. I wanted more than simple desire could provide.
She also stirred something more within me: a sense that the greater part of whomever I was belonged to the men of Antonia, and it was no longer mine to do with as I pleased. More than ever, I wished I had kept my mouth shut.
We walked back to the beach arm in arm and spoke very little as we did. Just holding her, touching her as we walked, was a pleasure beyond anything I could have dreamt of. But dreams never last and I was soon brought back to reality by the sight of our fires ahead. No sooner did we spot them when we were met by the familiar frame of my former bench mate.
He said nothing about the obvious change in our relationship but his approving glance at Calpurnia made his feelings clear. I realized, without him saying it, that he had been expecting it. When he turned his gaze upon me, it was the same as always.
“A message for you sir,” he said, “From the Stinker.”
“What is it?” I asked.
“I do not know,” he replied, “I never could read Greek.” We moved closer to the fire and I unrolled the dispatch.
“It seems we are to witness a test,” I said as I read, “After morning meal, muster the entire company at the cleft near the south ridge for a demonstration of the new long-range weapon.” The Nubian’s eyes flashed with excitement.
“It will be done, sir,” he snapped, “Shall I tell them what it is for or do you wish to surprise them?�
�
“Tell them by all means,” I replied, “We have had enough surprises already.”
The next morning dawned cool and gray. After the morning meal the entire crew assembled at the cleft as instructed. Anticipation was high and the men murmured among themselves. Nobody really knew what to expect including myself. Although it was not a long wait, it seemed like hours before the Stinker Team, led by 17 and 93, emerged over the ridge carrying two wrapped parcels in their arms,
We stared at them curiously as the team moved onto the beach and approached our position. The Greek, looking tired but much cleaner than the last time I saw him, gave a polite nod and set about giving orders to his crew. Several men started pacing into the cleft with knotted ropes and stretched them on the ground as they moved inland. The Greek and Chinese opened their parcels and set to work assembling the contents of them a few feet away front us.
The Chinese was assembling a peculiar looking device of metal and pointed to a spot on the ground before him. Several other men came forward and began digging a hole. A few minutes later they set a large round pole into it. The Greek then dropped a plumb-line beside it and the pole was adjusted accordingly. While they were doing this the men with the ropes had reached a huge tree at the far end of the cleft and pulled the rope taut. It was only then that I realized that they were measuring the distance to the tree from the pole.
This drew increased murmurs from the rest of the men, who had been watching this intently as well. Once the pole had been driven fast into place the Chinese and the Greek placed the strange metal device on the head of it. This was done with great care and precision. I moved closer the get a look. The device was an iron frame with a shining metal gear set inside of it on two axis planes. There were calibration lines on the top and one side of it. Atop the whole assembly was a U-shaped saddle of cast iron. On either side of the “U” were two smaller saddles, directly opposite each other.
As I tried to figure out what it was, I noticed that as many of my comrades as could had pressed in all around to get a better view. The Greek looked up at us and gestured for all to move back. We clumsily complied and he gestured for us to move even further back.
As the men ran back from the tree, the Greek finally opened his parcel and revealed a tube like the ones we had seen on our visit. It had not been glazed on the outside and shined with a dull, brownish gray. Around the length of it a rope was wrapped tightly in layers and was held in place by some kind of resin. At the back of it was a small opening with a wick coming out of it. He inspected it visually and, once satisfied, held it over his head for all to see.
“This,” he began, “Is the Clay Cannon. A long-range ballistic weapon that fires an explosive shell accurately at considerable distance.”
He handed the cannon gently to 93 and pulled another object from the parcel. It was a small, elongated round cylinder about six inches long and had no distinguishable features save for being flat on one end and perfectly rounded on the other. The round end was also covered with a bright metal and the rest of it appeared to be of a very fine grade of iron.
“The shell, like this one,” he continued, “Is packed with an improved, high-explosive more powerful than the black powder you saw on the ship.”
He touched the tip and pressed it in, and when he did a metallic click was heard.
“This tip, which is made of steel,” he said, “Is attached to a plunger fuse which runs down its center. When the tip strikes the enemy target, it causes the fuse to ignite and the powder charge inside the shell explodes with tremendous percussive force.”
He handed the shell to me for closer examination. I was reluctant to take it.
“It is alright,” he smiled, “This is only a sample. It has no charge!”
I studied the cylinder and the others moved closer to examine it. When I was finished, I handed it over to them so that they could have a look. While we did this he set the cannon into the saddle and snapped two pieces of metal into the smaller indentations to secure it in place.
“Is that a Lentulus?” I asked.
“No,” the Chinese replied, “Lentulus is not sturdy or accurate enough. The cannon kicks back hard when it fires. It would shear off a Lentulus at the ball joint. This is azimuth mount. Very accurate and locks into place when set.”
“Where is the target?” asked 53.
The Greek pointed at the tree at the far end. “That tree!” he answered. This drew gasps of amazement from everyone, including me.
“That tree is at least one hundred fifty yards away!” 53 exclaimed.
“At least!’ replied the Greek.
“How can you hit anything that far away?” 53 asked.
“We shall see!” replied the Greek. He reached into his tunic and produced and small black tube which he held up to his eye and placed his chin above the weapon. The Chinese kneeled beside the mount and placed his hand on a set screw at the top.
“Ready!” he said. The Greek closed one eye as he looked through the tube.
“Azimuth. Eighty-eight degrees!” said the Greek. The Chinese carefully adjusted the screw and the cannon glided to the right.
“Eighty-eight degrees. Set!”
“Range: one-five-seven!” The Chinese turned the screw at the side.
“One-five-seven. Set!” The Greek turned to the men who returned from the tree.
“3 Secundus, what was your measurement to the tree?” he asked.
“One hundred fifty-seven yards, four inches.” 3 Secundus replied.
93 and 17 looked at each other and grinned. “That works damn good!” 93 chuckled. The Greek patted him on the shoulder.
“What is that?” I asked.
“A sighting scope,” 17 replied, “I will show it to you later.”
He addressed the assembly and pointed to the wick. “When fire is applied to the wick it ignites the charge in the combustion chamber, which is also lined with steel. The explosive forces the shell out of the cannon at very high velocity. If our calculations are correct it will hit the tree. Bring the torch!” A torch was produced and given to Number 17.
“Mind your ears, gentlemen,” he said, “This is going to be loud!”
He moved to the cannon and raised the torch over the back of it. I cannot speak for anyone else but I could hardly breathe from the tension of the moment. He suddenly stopped and raised the flame in the air. He turned toward us. No sooner had he done this when I felt a light hand on my back. I turned and was greeted by the sight of Calpurnia, who had come to witness the demonstration. The Greek looked at the cannon and back at all of us.
“In the event of a misfire,” he warned, “It might be better for you all to take cover.”
Without pause, the entire group moved to whatever cover they could find, I quickly took refuge with Calpurnia behind the stump of a fallen tree.
The Greek smiled and turned toward where 93 had been standing only to find that he too had taken cover. He grinned at the Greek and shrugged. 17 Turned to the weapon, set his jaw and muttered something I could not hear to himself. He touched the flame to the wick.
What happened next was instantaneous. The cannon erupted with a sharp, powerful crack that tore at the air with deafening pressure that hurt the ears. White smoke belched from its front but no shell could be seen. Only a deafening roar that sounded like freakish, percussive wind tearing through the air toward the tree. Less than a second later the tree exploded in a blast of flame and smoke. A sight unlike anything I had ever seen before
It was almost like magic! As if the great tree had completely disappeared.
For a moment there was no sound from my comrades, who were just as amazed as I was. An instant later they emerged from hiding to give out a cheer. But this proved unwise. For the tree had not disappeared at all! It suddenly started showering down all around us in pieces of all sizes, including branches large enough to kill a man. We cowered and ran in all directions to avoid being hit by the falling debris.
Once the chaos subsided from
this we took quick stock of the men and were relieved to find that there had been no serious injuries. Only a few cuts and splinters from falling shards. The leaves from the tree continued to fall delicately all around us as the discussion of what we had seen began.
“How did you ever come up with this idea?” I asked.
“From watching birds,” 17 replied, “That is how I got the idea for the shape of the shell. The air itself is what keeps it flying. The flat tail keeps it on a straight trajectory, just as it does for birds.” 53 struggled to speak. The explosion had quite unnerved him.
“Is that the maximum range for this weapon?” he asked.
“No,” replied the Greek, “It is effective over a thousand yards. But increased distance does reduce its accuracy.”
“How many times can we use it?” I asked.
“These cannons are ceramic,” he answered, “Each is good for one shot.”
“How many do we have?” I asked.
“Not counting this one, twenty in all.” he said.
I hadn’t noticed at first, but the beach had become quite silent and I realized that everyone else was listening too. “That should be enough!” said one. Others agreed.
“Enough for what?” asked 53.
“To destroy the Septimus fleet!” 117 Primus shouted. Many cheered this idea. I did not. The weapon was certainly formidable against a stationary tree but a ship on a rolling sea was another matter. Even if you could hit it there was still the threat of the enemy’s ballisters, which could be deadly accurate inside fifty yards. And worse, these were flaming weapons! What would a fire do to a ship loaded with black powder? I shivered at the thought and I could tell the Greek was considering the same problem.
“I disagree,” said 127, “Twenty such cannons will not be enough to meet a wheeling phalanx of sixteen ships. They would close in and overwhelm us even if we could sink a few. There would not be enough time.”
“I thought of that,” said the Greek, “We need to slow the enemy down so that we can defeat them.” The Nubian shook his head and gasped his disbelief.
