Conn Iggulden - The Death Of Kings

Julius smiled slightly at the practical philosophy. “I hope… that I will see Pelitas again,” he said.

Gaditicus nodded. “We all will, but not for a while yet,” he replied. He dropped his hand from Julius's shoulder as he went below, leaving him there with his face turned into the sea breeze.

When he was alone, Julius closed his eyes and stood still for a long time.

The following morning, Julius split his men into two crews. He was tempted to take the captain's post in the faster pirate ship but, going on instinct, gave it to Ventulus 's captain-owner, Durus. The man had missed the fight completely, locked in his cabin, but when he understood the situation, he stopped shouting about the cargo they had thrown overboard. He hated the pirates as much as any of the crew and took great pleasure from seeing them bound as he had been only a few hours before.

When Julius made the offer, Durus took his hand to seal the bargain.

“Both ships are mine when you've found the man you want?”

“Unless one of them is sunk when we attack Celsus. My men will need a vessel to get back to Roman lands. I'd like it to be his, but he knows his business and taking it won't be easy, if we can find him at all,” Julius replied, wondering how far he could trust the captain. To be certain of his loyalty, he would let only a few of the Ventulus crew go with him onto the other ship. His legionaries would keep the captain's nerve for him, if it faltered.

Durus looked pleased, as well he might. Selling the captured ship would bring him far more than the value of the cargo he had lost, though he had groaned when he heard the ivory had been dropped overboard.

The main problem was what they were going to do with the pirates who had survived the fight. The wounded had been dispatched and dumped overboard with the others on Julius's orders. They had chosen their life and he had no sympathy for their cries. That still left seventeen to be guarded day and night. Julius set his jaw firmly. Their fate rested on his shoulders.

He had the pirates brought separately to the captain's cabin, where he sat calmly at the heavy table. Each one was tied and held tightly by two of his men. Julius wanted them to feel helpless, and the face he turned to them was as hard and cruel as he could make it. They had claimed their captain had been killed in the battle, which Julius wondered about. No doubt the man would prefer not to be known if he was amongst them.

“Two questions,” he said to the first of them. “If you can answer them, you live. If not, you go over the side to the sharks. Who is your captain?”

The man spat on the floor by Julius's feet, looking away as if uninterested. Julius ignored it, though he felt warm specks of liquid touch his ankle underneath the table.

“Where is the man Celsus?” he continued.

There was no response, though Julius noted the prisoner had begun to sweat.

“Very well,” he said quietly. “Let the sharks have him and bring me the next.”

“Yes, sir,” the soldiers said together.

The man seemed to come to life then, struggling and yelling madly all the way to the railing. They held him there for a few moments, while the younger of the pair took a knife from his belt. He cut the cords holding the pirate's hands just before heaving him over to hit the sea in a great splash, screaming.

Both soldiers leaned on the rail to watch the pirate's frantic struggles. He seemed to be trying to climb the side of the ship, but the slippery surfaces defeated him.

“I just thought he should have a chance,” the younger man muttered as dark shadows in the water began to ease toward the thrashing figure. The sharks had been following the ships since the first bodies were thrown overboard and the pirate saw them coming for him almost as soon as the men above did. He went berserk in the water, beating it into foam around him. Then he was snatched from the surface and the two soldiers turned back to fetch the next man to be questioned.

The second one couldn't swim at all and just sank. The third cursed them all the way in, through the questions and out over the rail, right until he was taken under. More sharks had gathered in the water, sliding over each other in a bloody froth as they fought over the meat.

The fourth man spoke as soon as Julius asked the questions.

“You'll kill me anyway,” he said.

“Not if you tell me what I want to know,” Julius replied.

The man sagged in relief. “Then I am the captain. You won't kill me?”

“If you can tell me where Celsus is, you have my word,” Julius said, leaning toward the man.

“In winter, he goes to Samos, in Asia. It's on the far side of the Greek sea.”

“I don't know the name,” Julius said, doubtfully.

“It's a big island off the coast-near Miletus. The Roman ships don't patrol near it, but I've been there before. I'm telling you the truth!”

Julius believed the man and nodded. “Excellent. Then that is where we will go. How far away is it?”

“A month straight, two at the most.”

Julius frowned at the answer. They would need to stop for provisions and that meant more risk. He looked up at the two soldiers. “Throw the others to the sharks.”

The pirate captain scowled at the order. “Not me, though. You said I wouldn't be killed.”

Julius stood up slowly. “I have lost good friends to your people, as well as a year of my life.”

“You gave your word! You need me to guide you there. You couldn't find it without me,” the man said quickly, his voice breaking in fear.

Julius ignored him, speaking to the soldiers holding his arms. “Lock him somewhere safe for the moment.”

When they had gone, Julius sat alone in the cabin and listened as the remaining pirates were dragged out and over the side. He looked down at his hands as the noise finally came to an end and again he could hear the creaks and groans of a ship under sail. He expected to feel shame or remorse for what he had ordered, but surprisingly it did not come. Then he closed the door so he could weep for Pelitas.

Alexandria sighed in irritation as she saw her brooch had been taken from the clothes she'd folded the night before. A quick look in the other rooms revealed that Octavian had left the house early, and she firmed her jaw as she closed the door behind her on her way to Tabbic's workshop. It wasn't just the valuable silver, or even the many hours she had put in shaping and polishing the brooch. It was the only one she had made for herself alone, and many of those who became buyers had seen and commented on it when they met her. The design was a simple eagle, which she wouldn't have chosen for her own shoulder if it hadn't become the symbol of all the legions and universally desirable. It was mainly officers who stopped her and asked about it, and to have it stolen by a grubby urchin made her clench and unclench her fists as she walked, her cloak falling loose around her shoulders and needing to be hitched up without the brooch.

Not only was he a thief but an idiot, she thought. How could he expect not to be caught? One worrying possibility was that the boy was so used to punishment that he had discounted it for the prize of her brooch, willing to take whatever came his way as long as he could keep it. Alexandria shook her head in irritation, muttering to herself what she would do when she saw him. He couldn't be shamed, even in front of his mother. She had seen that when the butcher's boys came for the meat he had taken.

Perhaps it would be better not to mention it to Atia. The thought of seeing the humiliation on her face was painful, and even after less than a week in her new room Alexandria had come to like the woman. She had pride and a sort of dignity. It was such a pity that none of it seemed to reach the son.