Conn Iggulden - The Gates Of Rome

As if he were loading a bale of cloth, Crixus pulled him over the edge and rolled him faceup on the deck, eyes closed and panting. Crixus smiled as he saw the dagger was still in one hand and reached for it. There was a quick sound behind him, and he froze as Renius brought his sword into the line of sight.

"What are you doing now?"

"Taking the dagger! He… he had to bring a shell back…" the man stammered.

"Check his other hand," Renius said.

Marcus could barely hear him through the water sounds in his ears and the pain in his chest and limbs, but he opened his left fist and in it, surrounded by scratches and cuts, was a round shell with its live occupant glistening wetly inside.

Crixus's jaw dropped and Renius waved him away with his sword.

"Get that second mate to gather the men… Parus, his name was. This has gone far enough."

Crixus looked at the sword and the man's expression and didn't argue.

Renius crouched at Marcus's side and sheathed his sword. Reaching over, he slapped Marcus's white face a few times, bringing a little color back. Marcus coughed wretchedly.

"I thought you'd stop when you nearly fell off the spar. What you think you are proving, I don't know. Stay here and rest while I deal with the men."

Marcus tried to say something, but Renius shook his head.

"Don't argue. I've been dealing with men like these all my life."

Without another word, he stood and walked to where the crew had gathered, taking a position where they could all see him. He spoke through teeth held tightly together, but his voice carried to all of them.

"His mistake was expecting to be treated with honor by scum like you. Now, I don't have the inclination to win your trust or your respect. I'll give you a simple choice from this moment. You do your jobs well. You work hard and stand your watches and keep everything tight until we make port. I have killed more men than I can count, and I will gut any man who does not obey me in this. Now be men! If anyone wants to make pretty words to argue with me, let him take up a sword and gather his friends and come against me all at once."

His voice rose to a bellow. "Don't walk away from me here and plot in corners like old ladies in the sun! Speak now, fight now, for if you don't and I find whispers later, I will crack your heads open for you, I swear it!"

He glared around at them and the men looked at their feet. No one spoke, but Renius said nothing. The silence went on and on, growing painful. No one moved; they stood like statues on the decks. At last, he took a breath and snarled at them.

"Not a single one of you with courage enough to take on an old man with one arm? Then get back to your work and work well, for I'll be watching each one of you and I won't give warnings."

He walked through them and they parted, standing mutely aside. Crixus looked at Parus and he shrugged slightly, stepping back with the rest. The Lucidae sailed on serenely through the cold sea.

Renius sagged against the cabin door as it closed behind him. He could feel his armpits were damp with sweat and cursed under his breath. He was not used to bluffing men into obedience, but his balance was terrible and he knew he was still weak. He wanted to sleep, but could not until he had finished his exercises. Sighing, he drew his gladius and went through the strokes he had been taught half a century before, faster and faster until the blade hit the roof of the small space and wedged. Renius swore in anger and the men near his door heard him and looked at each other with wide eyes.

That night, Marcus was standing at the prow on his own, looking out at the moonlit waves and feeling miserable. His efforts of the day had earned him nothing, and having to have Renius clear up his failure felt like a metal weight in his chest.

He heard low voices behind him and swung to see black figures coming around the raised cabins. He recognized Crixus and Parus, and the man from the high rigging, whose name he did not know. He steadied himself for the blows, knowing he couldn't take them all, but Crixus held out a leather cup of some dark liquid. He was smiling slightly, not sure Marcus wouldn't dash it out of his hand.

"Here. I promised you a drink if you picked up a shell, and I keep my promises."

Marcus took the cup and the three men relaxed visibly, coming over to lean against the side and look out over the black water as it passed below them. All three had similar cups, and Crixus filled them from a soft leather bag that gurgled when he shifted its weight under his arm.

Marcus could smell the bitter liquid as he raised it to his mouth. He had never tasted anything stronger than wine before and took a deep gulp before he realized that whatever it was stung the cuts on his lips and gums. In reflex, just to clear his mouth, he swallowed and immediately choked as fire burst in his stomach. He fought for breath and Parus reached out an arm and thumped his back, his face expressionless.

"Does you good, that stuff," Crixus said, chuckling.

"Does you good, First Mate," Marcus replied through his spluttering.

Crixus smiled. "I like you, lad. I really do," he said, refilling his own cup. "Mind you, that friend of yours, Renius, now he is a truly evil bastard."

They all nodded and peacefully went back to watching the sea and the sky.

Marcus viewed the busy port with mixed feelings as it grew before him. The Lucidae maneuvered nimbly through the ancient stones that marked the edge of the wild sea and the calm lake of the harbor itself. A host of ships accompanied them, and they had had to stand off from the harbor for most of the morning until a harassed pilot took a boat out to guide them in.

At first, Marcus had thought nothing of the month at sea, considering it with as much interest as he might consider a walk from one town to another. Only the destination had been important in his mind. Now, though, he knew the name of each one of the small crew and had felt their acceptance after that night spent drinking on the prow. Even the return of Firstmate to light duties hadn't spoiled things with the men. Firstmate, it seemed, bore no grudges and even seemed proud of him, as if his acceptance by the crew were in some way his doing.

Peppis had never stopped sleeping in corners on the decks at night, but he had filled out a little with the food Marcus saved for him, and the beatings had stopped by some unseen signal amongst the men. The little boy had become a much more cheerful character and might one day be a sailor, as he hoped.

To some extent, Marcus envied the boy; it was freedom of a kind. These men would see all the ports of the known world while he marched over foreign fields under the baking sun, carrying Rome always with him.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, trying to sift apart all the strange scents on the sea breeze. Jasmine and olive oil were strong, but there was also the smell of a mass of people again-sweat and excrement. He sighed and jumped as a hand clapped onto his shoulder.

"It will feel good to get land under our heels again," Renius said, staring with him into the harbor town. "We'll hire horses to take us east to the legion and find your century to get you sworn in."

Marcus nodded in silence and Renius caught his mood. "Only memories stay the same, lad. Everything else changes. When you see Rome again, you'll hardly know it and all the people you loved will be different. There's no stopping it; it's the most natural thing in the world."

Seeing Marcus wasn't cheered, he went on.

"This civilization was ancient when Rome was young. It's an alien place to a Roman, and you'll have to watch their ideas of soft living don't spoil you. There are savage tribes that raid across the border in Illyria, though, so you'll see your share of action. That got your interest, did it?" He laughed, a short bark. "I suppose you thought it would be all drill and standing in the sun? Marius is a good judge, lad. He's sent you to one of the hardest posts in the empire. Even the Greeks don't bend the knee without a good deal of thought, and Macedonia is where Alexander was born. This is just the place to put a bit of strength into your steel."