Companions (The Parthian Chronicles) (56 page)

‘Good enough.’

‘Then use them to take a look south.’

I did, and concern swept through me as I saw two small shapes on the horizon.

‘Roman warships.’

I stared, open-mouthed, at the two vessels that seemed many miles away but also immediately threatening. I thought we had escaped from Ephesus but the Romans were apparently intent on tracking us down and either killing or capturing us so they could transport us back to Ephesus for exemplary punishment.

Chapter 13

‘Are you sure?’

Athineos looked at me with a face full of wrath.

‘An hour ago they were barely discernible dots on the horizon, now I can see square sails and ships sailing side by side. In another hour, when we will be pulling into shore to anchor for the night, I shall be able to see the eagles on the mainsails. Yes, I’m sure.’

‘Can they catch us?’

He turned and squinted at our pursuers. ‘Not today. They will also have to anchor soon.’

I looked up at the sky. ‘But the wind will be blowing again tomorrow.’

He shook his head. ‘It won’t save us. They have sails too but what they also have, which we do not, are oars.’

They were triremes, warships that had three levels of oars, sixty-two on the upper level, fifty-four on the middle level and another fifty-four on the lower level. The upper-level oarsmen rowed through an outrigger and had a deck running the length of the ship above them, from which thick linen screens could be suspended to protect them from missiles or poor weather. The oarsmen on the middle level rowed through an open oar-hole, but those on the lower level, whose oar-holes were only eighteen inches above the waterline, had their ports enclosed by a leather sleeve.

‘You remember me telling you about their rowers when we were on the way to Ephesus?’ he said.

‘That they are not slaves.’

‘They are professionals. Each one sits on a cushion and they row to the beat of a drummer so they can get their rhythm,’ he answered. ‘And that rhythm is fast, Pacorus. The Romans may spout all this rubbish about Greeks being effeminate and boy lovers but they spend good money on Greek rowers because they know they are the best to be had. And like this ship each trireme has a mainmast and a small boat-mast forward.’

He told me that the sails were square-rigged and fitted with brailing ropes and could be removed before a battle.

‘And triremes are fast,’ he continued. ‘No longer than forty yards and a beam just over six yards, their lightweight hulls are mortice-and-tenon construction in fir and oak and that means they can cut through the water at speed.’

‘But surely they are carrying a lot of weight?’ I said desperately.

He laughed. ‘They carry a fair weight, yes. But they are slim, unlike this old lady, and they have a hundred and seventy rowers providing motive power. They don’t fight, but the forty marines on each trireme do. So once we’ve been rammed they will either let us all drown or throw grappling hooks so they can board us to kill us with their weapons.’

He looked at me. ‘Are you going to tell them?’

‘Who?’

He nodded at the people on deck. ‘Them?’

‘Yes.’

As Athineos guided his ship into a small bay on the north coast of a small island called Psara, I gathered my companions on deck and informed them that two Roman warships were chasing us. The sailors furled the two sails and dropped a large stone anchor to secure our position in the shallow water and the cook began to prepare some of the meagre rations we had on board. None of us had much of an appetite as we sat in a circle on deck and picked at our cooked fish, rations that had been earmarked for the marines that had been guarding the sailors before we liberated them. Meanwhile the sun dipped in the west.

After we had finished eating Athineos called everyone together in front of the cabin for a briefing. He had forbidden the lighting of any torches as a precaution against the Romans spotting us.

‘I thought you said they too would be forced to seek an anchorage,’ I said.

‘Never underestimated the Romans, Pacorus.’

He folded his thick arms in front of him.

‘You all know that the Romans are after us and that tomorrow they might catch us.’

Some of the crew began to murmur among themselves.

‘Silence!’ barked Athineos. ‘We have two options, as I see it. We can either sail to the mainland, fire the boat and try to evade our pursuers on foot, or we can sail for Lemnos in the morning and hope we get there before the Romans intercept us.’

‘What’s at Lemnos?’ asked one of the sailors.

Athineos looked at me.

I turned to face the questioner. ‘Salvation. I have arranged for reinforcements to be sent to the island and they will be able to deal with the Roman warships.’

The sailor seemed satisfied by my answer, though Athineos was taken by surprise.

‘So, that being the case,’ said the captain, ‘I think it is best to push on to Lemnos.’

His crew was in agreement and went back to their stations in a satisfied mood. Cleon and his small band of men were similarly fortified by my announcement and Domitus smiled knowingly at me. Athineos took my elbow and led me into the cabin, shutting the door behind him. I could hardly see him in the dimness.

‘Reinforcements?’ he said quietly.

‘Men perform better if they have hope, Athineos.’

‘And when we get to Lemnos and there are no reinforcements?’

‘I must ask you to have faith, Athineos, faith that things will turn out to our advantage. Besides, our luck has held thus far.’

‘The thing about luck, Pacorus,’ he replied, ‘is that eventually it runs out.’

Alcaeus wanted Athineos to send men ashore to fetch fresh water, as our supplies were very low. The captain was at first reluctant but yielded after the doctor informed him that several of the crew that had been flogged by the Romans would be dead by morning if their raging thirsts were not satisfied. I offered to go along with the landing party to provide security, Surena and Domitus also volunteering their services. After a few minutes of prevarication Athineos finally relented and said he would lead the expedition. Cleon also wanted to come along but I asked him to watch over the ship.

Six sailors carried two empty water skins each and Athineos also carried a pair. Surena, Domitus and I shouldered one apiece. The crew lowered the rowboats into the calm black sea and we used ropes to clamber down the sides to get on board. The sailors were used to getting in and out the boats but Surena lost his footing and fell on one of the brawny sea dogs, who gave him a mouthful of abuse.

‘Quiet,’ hissed Athineos, ‘the Romans might be in the next cove for all I know. No talking from now on.’

Because he had forbidden the lighting of any torches or candles on the ship our eyes soon got used to the darkness, the black craggy outlines of the island’s rocky terrain discernible against the night sky. There was no moon but the sky was cloudless and it was possible to make out the shore, the beach and the sharply rising rocky hill beyond.

The only sound was the gentle splashes of the oars as they dipped in the water. After less than five minutes the boats ran aground on the soft sand, we stepped out and hauled them onto the beach. I looked back to see the black shape of
The
Cretan
. It was so quiet I was aware of my breathing and the beat of my heart. Athineos gathered us in a circle and spoke in a whisper.

‘There will be mountain streams inland from this beach. As soon as we find one we fill the skins and then leave. Keep your eyes peeled. The crews from those two triremes might be a stone’s throw away or they might be a few miles away.’

He led the party off the beach, moving between dunes and clumps of grass to reach a wooded area with the mountain looming up on our left. We moved through a dense area of maple, beech and chestnut, the cracks of breaking twigs as we stepped on them echoing through the trees and causing Athineos to curse us. But after stumbling on for a few more minutes we heard the pleasing sound of running water. On hearing it I suddenly felt very thirsty and was glad when I could cup my hands in the small stream and drink the cool liquid.

‘Hurry,’ hissed Athineos as he pulled the water skins off his back and dipped them into the watercourse.

The others did the same and as soon as his men had filled their skins he tapped them on the shoulder to indicate they should depart for the boats. I had never seen him so nervous. Surena was grinning like an idiot as the captain urged his men to complete their tasks and retrace their steps.

‘Fill that water skin,’ I said to him, ‘and be quick about it.’

‘The island seems deserted, lord. Perhaps we could go hunting to fill our bellies with fresh meat.’

‘Have you forgotten about the Romans?’ I said.

He grinned, his white teeth flashing in the half-light by the stream.

‘We won’t have to worry about the Romans when we get to Lemnos and link up with our reinforcements, lord. Will Prince Orodes be commanding them?’

‘What?’

Domitus kneeled and dipped his water skin in the stream.

‘That’s right, Surena, he will be leading the Durans and Exiles who have been transported to the island.’

Surena finished filling his skin and replaced the cork. The water containers were the hides of goats and calves sewn together with the hair on the inside to prevent evaporation of the water.

‘Do you think we will hold any games at Dura, lord?’

‘Games?’

‘If we built an arena outside the city then we could invite gladiators from all over the Roman Empire.’

‘Just what the king wants, Surena,’ said Domitus, ‘Romans flocking to Dura.’

‘There will be no gladiatorial games at Dura, Surena,’ I said, ‘and no arena.’

He looked disappointed. ‘That is a pity, lord, I would have liked Viper to have seen me in the arena.’

Domitus was shaking his head as Surena reflected on his lost opportunity for more glory in the arena. I hoped that one day he would become a great Parthian warlord as he had that crucial ingredient that all successful commanders must have: supreme faith in their own abilities. But at this precise moment he was nothing but an irritation.

I looked round to see we were alone; Athineos and his men had departed.

‘Let’s get back to the boats,’ I said.

In front of us the cracking of twigs and occasional obscene word when a man tripped on a stone indicated the presence of Athineos and his men, some distance away. We quickened our pace but I stopped when I heard a rustling sound behind me. I turned and peered into the trees. I thought I saw something but there was just gloom. I continued on, following Surena and Domitus who had increased their pace. I heard a twig snap and halted again. Domitus heard it too and also stopped and turned. The hairs on the back of my neck pricked up and my instincts told me something was wrong. I strained my eyes to try to see in the darkness. I saw what appeared to be the black shape of a giant lumbering towards me. But it had a head that was totally flat. It was a crest. I slipped my bow off my back and nocked an arrow in the bowstring as the figure got nearer. Behind it were more moving shapes – Romans!

I raised my bow and released the bowstring. I heard a hiss followed by a yelp that pierced the night air and did not stop to see if I had hit the man with the crest atop his helmet.

‘Run,’ I shouted.

Surena and Domitus bounded ahead of me as shouts erupted behind as the Romans gave chase. I heard a thwack and saw a javelin embed itself in a tree to my right. I ran on, stumbling into branches and bushes that impeded my progress but also that of my pursuers. Still gripping my bow, the water skin and quiver, branches flaying my torso, I at last reached the beach to see the two rowboats being pushed into the water. Domitus and Surena stopped and turned as I caught up with them and pulled another arrow from my quiver.

The enemy was fast on my heels but fewer than I had expected: I saw only five. I shot one who was about to hurl a javelin and Surena cut down another marine who was running at him. I nocked another arrow and shot a man who moved his
scutum
to reveal his torso as he ran at me. I estimated him to be twenty paces away, maybe less, so the arrowhead easily penetrated his mail shirt to pierce his belly. It didn’t kill him but winded him and dropped him to his knees.

‘Time to go, Pacorus,’ shouted Domitus as Surena shot another arrow that struck the shield of the surviving marine.

I was about to turn and run to the boats when I saw the Roman with the crested helmet – Marcus Aristius, the man who had held a sword to Gallia’s throat.

‘Surena,’ I called.

He came bounding back to me as Domitus screamed at me to get off the beach,

I handed my bow and water skin to him. ‘Take these and go.’

He had no chance to reply as I pulled my sword and advanced on the tribune, thrusting the point of my
spatha
forward to skewer him. He deflected the blow and came at me with his own thrusts that I parried easily enough. I heard a low groan and out of the corner of my eye saw the surviving marine fall with an arrow in his throat. Surena just could not help himself.