Barry Sadler - The Eternal Mercenary

Ah! The thought of good wine and good food filled Crespas with a happy glow, and he anticipated tonight's supper. As the galley neared its destination, small boats would approach, Crespas knew from past experience; the sailors would be crying out what they had to sell… sea urchins… and turbot fresh from the waters… and oysters. Crespas' mouth fairly watered at the thought of fresh raw oysters in a fish sauce, washed down with the Tarter Mamertine.

Good! The pleasures of civilized company again… and food fit to eat, not the goat smothered in garlic that those miserable goatherds had so constantly tried to palm off on him these past years. This homecoming was long overdue.

Still, the last three years had not been without profit. The mines on Siphnos had not been completely worked out by the Greeks. Besides the copper ore, there were occasional pockets of silver. Even gold had cropped up now and then. The bulk of this went into his own purse, after, of course, a reward to the overseer who brought the finds to him. One had to still wagging tongues.

But… tomorrow… Rome… and my villa… home again!..

Crespas sighed, luxuriating in anticipation.

He had entirely forgotten Casca and the little yellow man.

But two men on the galley had not forgotten Casca and Shiu.

The two thugs had seen Shiu bow to Casca. The breed cursed quietly. The younger one asked, "Tonight?"

"Tonight. When the sea gets rough.”

“But what if they don't show on deck?”

“They will." By Mithra, damned if he would be cheated out of his revenge. Even the gods would not be that unfair. There had been no chance to even the score so far. The two had continued to give Casca and Shiu dark looks and cursed at them beneath their breath when they were in the vicinity of the yellow man, but only once had they given it the old try. A few days earlier the two of them had approached Casca and started to chew his ass out for taking up with the yellow man, but at the sight of Casca swelling up in anger-his neck and face turning dark with rage, his great arms flexing- they had beat a hasty retreat. The incident had served to cement their hatred for Casca, and they now included him in their curses and plottings. "Tonight," the breed repeated.

Strong winds billowed the sails out and drove the galley on north, north to the port of Ostia. The waters grew appreciably rougher as the evening approached and the Tyrrhenian Sea turned dark. When full night came on, the island of Aeoli was far astern to port, and the seas were even rougher. But the wind was steady, pushing them to the north at a good clip, and the captain chose to ride the wind after giving orders for everything loose to be battened down. All fires were out. No oil lamps were to be lit tonight. The risk of fire was too great, and the captain was a careful man. As for Casca and Shiu, the prohibition of lamplight made little difference. They weren't used to having lamps at night anyway. Oil was a luxury saved for the rich and well-to-do, not for lowly slaves.

Casca and Shiu took their meals and ate apart from the other slaves as was now their custom. The two thugs gave them dark looks, but Casca ignored them, and Shiu seemed not to see. Tomorrow would be the end of the voyage. Neither would probably ever see the two thugs after the landing. They ate and prepared for the night.

The wind freshened and the sea roughened. The galley pitched and yawed. Those in the slave sections tried to sleep. Some succeeded, but the tossing only served to make Casca restless. He arose from his pallet, wrapped his cloak around him, and started for the upper deck and fresh air. As he climbed the ladder leading to the surface, a figure below made himself known.

"Shiu!"

"Go on, big nose, I am right behind."

The two walked carefully along the deck to the starboard side of the galley. Italy lay somewhere in the dark. The wind hummed through the lines, pressed the billowed sails, and the galley drove on through the night.

Shiu faced the stern, letting the sea breeze blow cold in his face and spray settle into his thin beard and moustache. "Aiiiee, big nose. This is much better than lying below in that dungeon. Here at least we can breathe free air-even if we are not free."

Casca grunted as he was wont to do when he couldn't think of anything to say, enjoying the brisk wind. The only sailors on deck were those needed for the care of the ship. They were mostly Cyprians or Egyptians, experienced men who could be counted on in an emergency. The wind was strong, but there was no real danger, though the roughness of the sea was enough to make landlubbers uncomfortable.

There was, however, another danger much more real.

As Casca and Shiu enjoyed the open expanse of the dark sea, two figures made their way to the deck. These kept stealthily to the shadows, moving slowly and cautiously. The two bullies were determined to even the score tonight, for the rough sea would be an ideal time. If two landsmen went over the side into the churning waters, surely there could be no suspicion of foul play.

The younger man moved forward, his breath seeming to rasp in his ears, anticipation building in him, his pulse quickening. It was his first such kill. The older man was more settled and at ease. A basic streak of cruelty needing to be fed, combined with the need to reinforce his own image of himself, drove him to this act of murder. He had killed before in the dark, once even under very similar circumstances to this while working on a cargo ship out of Crete. There the seas, like these, had covered his deed forever.

No moon covered the dark sea. The only light came from the phosphorescent glowing of the ocean froth, flashing and disappearing, winking out like strange-shaped fireflies.

Despite the night chill, the face of the young man was covered in sweat. He could barely make out the Greek beside him. He touched the Greek's arm with a hand that was questioning, eager, trembling. The shadows of Casca and Shiu loomed indefinitely before them, but in the faint light of the phosphorescent sea it was obvious that their backs were turned, and the wind was covering any sound the two assassins might make. The time was now. The half-breed gave his comrade's hand a forward jerk, and simultaneously they moved forward, arms out, hands reaching to shove…

They were only two steps away…

Shiu tensed. A velvet shadow, he turned and caught the young one's outstretched hands, pivoting inside the young man's reach. Gently he set his hip against the thigh of the young man and with a smooth, turning lift threw the youngster flying over his head and out over the railing.

The next thought in the young man's brain was the feel of the sea reaching up to meet him. A large swell of the black waters seemed to open for his body. Near silence. Only a gurgling sigh. The waters took him down, closing over him, surprising in their warmth. His mouth was open for a scream that never came, for it was instantly filled with the Mediterranean. He had no sense of weight. In the dark, salty water there was no up or down. Panic began to touch his brain, but then was dulled as the sea flowed into his lungs and the warm, wet black claimed him forever.

His comrade was not as fortunate.

When Shiu turned, it alerted Casca, and he caught the Greek breed by the arm and throat. Casca's instinctive soldier's training took over. The lessons he had learned from Shiu came automatically. Without consciously willing it to happen, he used a forward leg trip and drove the Greek to the deck, still holding to the breed's throat. In the corner of his eye he sensed the flying shadow of the young man and Shiu turning into the basic defensive posture, feet set in a strong horse stance, hands positioned.

Holding the Greek down, Casca recalled a technique the old one had showed him-but not to completion. Shit, he thought, I might as well see if it works. Switching hands on the Greek's throat to keep him from screaming, Casca formed his free hand in the blunt extended finger striking attitude. Taking a deep breath, he compressed half into his lower abdomen, then let the retained air escape in bursts, giving a compressed hiss instead of the normalkiyi! Then Casca drove his fingers straight into the area just below the center and to the left of the solar plexus. As his fingers went deep, he turned them up to the heart. With a quick vibrating pumping action, he worked his hand back and forth, the action of his strike creating a shock wave that threw the half-breed's heart into convulsions.