Адриан Голдсуорти - The Encircling Sea

The corpse was dragged off him. Beside him the Red Cat nodded, and the gesture somehow conveyed his bafflement at the centurion for letting himself be surprised. The man on the ground moaned softly, and the northerner readied his sword.

‘No. We take him back. This one too.’ He gestured at the dead man. ‘We’ll hide him in the trees.’

The Red Cat hooted like an owl. Vindex rode up a few moments later, leading the other horses. They went back to the little patch of wood, their captive still unconscious. Ferox told the others where they were to join him, and by the time he reached the camp he had the rest of the plan in his mind. The tribune was asleep, and he toyed with the idea of going ahead without his permission, before deciding that it would take longer to persuade anyone without his orders. Crispinus would have to know, but first he went to see Bran, who had the ‘lad’ and his master in tow.

‘Five thousand denarii,’ the man demanded. He was of average height, broad and thick limbed with the weather-beaten skin of a man who had lived through many a gale.

‘You will have it,’ Ferox promised.

His next visit was to Probus. The merchant was angry at being disturbed, but listened to what he had to say.

‘Very well. We’ll be ready.’

Crispinus was harder to persuade. ‘You want to leave us?’

‘They only have Cerialis, so they will want more from us. Get him back, my lord, and in the meantime I will go and see if I can rescue the others. We know where their island is, I have arranged for a merchant ship to carry us, and I have one of their men who will tell me what I need to know. You free the prefect and then come after us. We will leave a sailor who can guide you, so send him to the legate and Aelius Brocchus’s force. You can all come and rescue us in case we cannot get away and before the rest of the Harii return.’

Crispinus was dubious. ‘What makes you sure they have not brought the other captives, but simply are keeping them in another camp?’

‘Why should they?’

‘That’s not a real answer. And why do you assume their warship is at a harbour here in Hibernia with most of their fighters. You may find their island and be faced with hundreds of warriors.’

‘They need to take the ransom home. Better not to trust that to a hired merchant ship. My reckoning is that the galley came here after the raid, dropped off Cerialis and this band, and then took the others north to their lair. Why should they fear us chasing them or coming to find them, when we have no idea where to go?’ He tried to explain his reasoning, knowing that there were a lot of guesses.

‘What if you are wrong, centurion?’

‘My lord, what difference will it make to what happens here if we are wrong? Show your open support for Togirix and he will help you. If they try to cheat you at the exchange, it will be hard for them to get away if the high king turns against them.’

There were more questions, but in the end the tribune gave his assent. ‘How many men will you take?’

‘Not many, as we must not diminish your escort too much. I’ll take Vindex and all but one of his scouts. You can keep the one who speaks decent Latin. Then Probus and his gladiator, Segovax and his brother, and I should like half a dozen Batavians if you are willing. Volunteers for choice.’

‘I make that fifteen, including you.’

‘Sixteen, my lord. I am taking my servant boy as well, although I should be grateful if you kept Philo here. I’m not including the sailors and crew, because I am not expecting them to fight.’

‘Sixteen, one of them a boy.’ Crispinus fought to stop himself from yawning. ‘Are you sure this is wise? Why not ask Epotsorovidus for some of his warriors? They look handy enough, and would surely fight for their queen.’

‘He is unlucky, and I’d rather not be buried with him.’

‘Fortuna,’ Crispinus said softly. ‘She’s a fickle enough goddess at the best of times. I just hope that you are lucky, centurion.’

Ferox shrugged, then wondered whether he ought to say something to invoke the Roman goddess or any other power who might favour them. The moment had passed and it was too late.

‘I had better get everything organised, my lord. Best if we leave before dawn.’

‘Very good, centurion.’

THE SMALL SHIP rose on the wave, lifting high until it pitched forward into the next great trough, cold water bursting over the deck. Ferox braced himself and pulled his cloak tight, for soon they were rising again. An hour ago a shower of hail had left the deck white, until the spray washed it back to the dark wooden planking. Apart from a couple of tiny cabins at the stern there was hardly any shelter. Some men went to the hold, but most came back up fairly soon. Down there every movement of the ship was magnified, with no warning of the next lurch until it began. Even men with strong stomachs were soon vomiting, and the reek made others do the same. It took either great courage or a mind as empty as their bellies for men to stay there, crammed in between barrels and sacks and hoping the lashing keeping them in place would hold, not knowing whether the ship was about to go down. At least on deck you could see disaster coming, even if you could do nothing about it.

This was the third day at sea. The first had been perfect, a wind more southerly than westerly filling the ship’s sail and driving them along across a smooth, blue-grey sea. Everyone felt the elation, and spirits were high. The Batavians leaned over the rail, laughing and joking, saying that this was no more than the rivers of their homeland. Some, like the one-eyed Longinus, knew how quickly the sea’s mood could change, but it did not dampen their mood. They were doing something, going to fight men who deserved to be killed and save a lady they all loved, who was one of their own. Bran was even more excited, helping the sailors whenever he could, hanging around them the rest of the time and watching what they did, for he had never been on such a large boat. Vindex and the scouts were suspicious, for they did not care much for the sea, but after a while admitted that this was not too bad, less crowded than the trireme and without its lingering smell of stale sweat. Quintus Ovidius beamed at everyone, asking them to call out if they saw a whale or anything else of interest. The philosopher was a surprising addition to their party, added on the insistence of Crispinus. Ferox was still unsure why.

The second day started well, until the wind died away to nothing. Now and then a brief flurry would stir the sail and carry them a short distance before fading away.

‘Glad we are not further north,’ the master said. ‘Not and be this close to the shore.’ On a calm day like this it would be easy for the Novantae or other raiders to row out in their little boats and catch becalmed ships. Fortunately they were still near the Roman province. Ferox thought that he could see Alauna, but was not sure in the hazy sunshine. He wondered whether the message they had sent in one of the transport ships had reached Brocchus. It seemed doubtful, since surely the same weather would have brought that ship to a halt as well. There were two sails on the horizon, but neither was close enough to recognise. In the afternoon they sighted something else, a low grey shape coming from the north. It moved steadily across the water, its mast bare of a sail, but never came close enough for them to see the foam stirred up by the three banks of oars.

‘Odd,’ the master said, watching the distant galley warily. ‘You don’t often see any of the classis up here.’ Ferox could see that the man knew what this meant. For over an hour they watched as the trireme edged past. The deck was silent apart from the low creaks of wood and rope of a vessel at sea. They waited, fearing to see the pirates turn towards them. There was no reason why the Harii should know who they were, no reason at all, neither was there cause for them to attack and plunder their ship rather than any of the other sails in sight. None of that meant that the pirates would not decide to come their way.