Her Pirate Master (6 page)

“Go inside the cabin,” he shouted, pushing her toward the door. “You will be safer there. Take the prisoners with you.”

Imi slipped and slid her way over the deck to the frightened people.

“Look,” the young girl who had brought her bathwater shouted as she pointed to the angry sea.

“A monster,” yelled a man. The others craned their heads to see even as they pulled away from the ship’s side.

Imi peered at the huge, rolling waves, surging this way and now that. The wind tore at her hair, her clothes. The salt spray stung her eyes. She saw nothing.

“There,” the girl called again. And this time Imi saw it, the hideous face of a woman with holes where her nose should be and fangs protruding from her mouth. Long, green hair streamed behind her. Was the creature laughing? She had the body of an old woman with shriveled, sagging breasts but beneath the waist! Could it be? Did this thing really have the tail of a fish where her legs should be? Imi leaned forward to see. The creature threw her head back, fixed her eyes on Imi, and leered malevolently.

“Immmii.”

Imi recoiled. The monster knew her name.

“Commmme.” She was calling to her. The creature had a voice like an old, rusty iron door being opened after decades of neglect, and yet it resonated inside her. Imi knew she should resist, but she couldn’t help it. She was just about to clamber over the ship’s side when a gray shadow, heavy and lumbering, surged up through the waves, lashing its ridged tail. The creature’s attention refocused on the newcomer. Imi hugged herself.

Goddess. What was happening? The sky above Imi’s head cracked again, and she sheltered her eyes with her hands to protect them from the rain trying to glue her eyelashes together. The creatures in the sea sank below the waves as they clawed at each other. Imi rubbed her eyes. There was nothing to see but the churning water. Had she only imagined she saw something? The shadow that attacked the woman creature had had the shape of a crocodile, but such a thing could not be. Crocodiles were fresh–water animals. Unnerved, she herded the prisoners to the cabin.

The tables and stools were overturned, everything in disarray. Her box! Scrabbling on hands and knees, she searched wildly for it. The prisoners huddled in one corner and watched her. Just when she’d almost given up hope, was thinking someone might have come in while she was out and stolen it, she found it on the floor, hidden under a fold of the rumpled bed covering. She checked its contents. Everything was there. She clutched it to her chest and remained on the floor, pushing her back against the bed to steady herself against the roll and pitch of the boat. Under the howl of the wind and the pounding rain, she could hear Seleucus and his crew trying to keep control of the ship and prevent it from being driven against the rocks of the coast.

Water began to slosh in under the door. The waves had gotten so high they were washing over the deck. Imi hugged the box to herself and prayed, a one word litany, “Goddess, Goddess.”

Outside the cabin, the storm raged on.

*****

Seleucus cursed fate and all the powers of weather as wave after wave pounded his ship and surged across his deck.

“We’re riding too low,” Sahman yelled at him. “We can’t keep everything.”

Seleucus nodded grimly. It was what he’d feared ever since the storm had sprung up.

“Let the wine and the oil go,” he shouted. “The gold last of all.”

Sahman nodded.

Seleucus watched the amphorae of wine and oil being thrown over the side and tried not to mind the senseless waste of it. Whatever anyone might think of him and his men, they had worked hard to obtain those things. He hated to see them being tossed into the sea even if it would help the galley to ride higher.

Velia was close now, very close. One minute the wind was pushing them away from land toward the deep sea, the next it was speeding them toward the safe harbor he sought. Seleucus had encountered more than his fair share of storms at sea, but there was something about this one. It was almost as if the boat was caught between two powers, one bent on their destruction, the other determined to keep them safe. He wiped a hand across his brow as if to clear his head. Weather was all it was. It was foolish of him to think it could be anything else. For a second his mind flashed on Imi. She’d looked so frightened as she’d begged him to put into Salernum that he’d wished he could do it. And if it was himself alone he’d have risked it just to please her, but how could he justify putting his men’s freedom at risk. The Roman penalty for piracy was death. Salernum was a big and developed town, and Seleucus had more reason to fear capture there than at the harbor close to Velia.

A wave, the biggest Seleucus had yet seen, picked the galley up and hurled it down again so hard he fell to the deck. Another heave and he found himself sliding across the boards. Seleucus grabbed at the mast pole and missed. Another pitch and, if he hadn’t jackknifed himself around and sprung to his feet by sheer will alone, he might very well have found himself overboard. The ship veered wildly. Seleucus looked around for the helmsman and found him sprawled on the deck, blood flowing from a gash in his forehead.

“Sahman, take him inside,” he shouted, lunging for the helm himself. “You,” he called to another of his crew, “help me.” The helm was like an untamed beast in his hands, something with a will of its own. It took all his strength and that of his crewman to pull on it. They were near the harbor he sought. They had to be but the storm clouds had turned the day dark and the rain fell in sheets obscuring the coastline.

“Turn,” he shouted to the man, his muscles straining. The sailor looked at him mutely, and Seleucus realized the man was near the end of his endurance. He would have sworn at him, cursed him for a weakling, but he could not spare the energy. Instead he used his anger to lean into the helm and slowly, wobblingly, the galley began to turn. Above him the wind howled as if it realized its prey was near rescue. Seleucus paid it no mind, for all his strength, all his power was bent on bringing the galley to safety. He did not allow himself to wonder if he’d made a mistake, if, in fact, he’d missed the harbor entirely and was guiding his ship onto the rocks, leading all aboard to their doom. Had not his pirate brother, Balas, died just two years before in a storm off Crete? In truth, he’d had more than one friend die in storms at sea, but he couldn’t think of them now. If the storm had been weaker, he might have risked riding it out until he could see the coastline again and get his bearings, but the fury of wind and wave made finding shelter and finding it soon, a necessity. He was trusting to his knowledge of the area. He hoped it wouldn’t betray him.

*****

In the cabin, Imi was among the first to feel the difference as the furious tossing of the sea lessened. She took a deep breath and then another. She straightened her legs and loosed her grip on the precious chest. Her fingers—her entire body—hurt. Water sloshed around her ankles as she rose to her feet.

First, she checked the sailor who had been brought in with a head injury. Sahman had had no time to bandage the man’s wound, but now she tore a strip from the wet sheet, and cleaned the cut, reasoning that salt water was as good as honey and nearer to hand. The man winced, but his injury was not very deep, though, he’d bled so much the upper part of his tunic was dark with his blood. When she was done, she wound a fresh strip around his head and told him to rest awhile. She’d learned something about healing by watching the priests in the temple at Ephesus, and she knew the man’s blood loss would make him weak for a day or two.

“Are you injured?” she asked now, leaving the crewman and going among the prisoners.

Most shook their heads, but a man showed her his arm where he’d received a long cut. She cleaned it with another piece of the wet sheet. After she bound it, the girl who’d first seen the strange creature in the water inclined her head. Imi was puzzled by the gesture until she drew closer and saw how the rope had chafed the girl’s neck and left it red and raw. Imi tugged at the rough knot.

“What are you doing?” Seleucus snapped hoarsely.

Imi whirled around.

“I . . . you . . . ,” she started, confused and unable to repress the surge of joy she felt at seeing the pirate captain.

“Yes, me,” he responded. “Did you seek to free them?”

“No, I just wanted to help.” She hefted the thick rope. “See how her neck is rubbed raw.”

“Later, when we are on land, you can see to their hurts. We have entered the harbor near Velia.”

“We made it,” she smiled at him, and he was surprised by how good it made him feel. “You are a good captain.” The way she said it would have made him laugh if he weren’t so tired. He would have liked to stay and bask in the sun of her approval, but he had work to do.

“I need the help of the men.” He glared into the prisoners’ eyes. “Some of my men are wounded and cannot work. I am going to free you to help with the ship, but if you try to escape or to harm me or any other, you will die.” He looked each of the five men in the eye as he talked. They nodded miserably. Imi thought the little speech was probably not necessary. None of the captives looked as if they had what it took to mount any kind of resistance, particularly not after what they had all just been through.

“I can help, too,” she said. “I am unhurt.”

His gaze roved over her, quickly assessing but also with more than a hint of possession. He pulled her to him and pressed his lips to hers. Imi’s mouth opened under his, but, just as quickly as he’d reached for her, he pulled away, his breathing ragged.

“Do you really want to help me?” he asked.

She nodded.

“Sweep out the water from in here then come out on deck.” He untied the men’s hands so they could undo the knots at their necks. When they’d freed themselves, he pushed them to the door where he turned back to Imi. “You can bring the women out when you’re done,” he said to her. “We should be at anchor by then.” He wanted to go to her, to feel the soft pressure of her body against his once more. Instead, he nodded with a grimace and ducked through the door.

Imi searched around below deck until she found a thick–bristled broom and began to push the water out of the cabin. By the time she’d restored the cabin to its former appearance more than an hour had gone by and the light had dimmed with the setting of the sun.

The sun shone brightly. It was just past mid–day and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. Imi found shade under a squat tree with long, lemon–green leaves. She lowered herself gratefully to the ground. The three female prisoners followed her example below another similar tree.

The harbor itself was pretty, unspoiled. There was no sign of habitation, though it was only a matter of time before the Romans discovered the place and brought in their engineers and building contractors and changed it completely.

At the water’s edge, the uninjured crewmen and the male captives struggled to pull the galley out of the water and up on the shore. Seleucus looked worn out, but he worked as hard as the others, never asking them to do more than he himself was willing to do.

Imi watched him. She saw that the men responded quickly to his commands, wanting to please him, and she recognized this as the mark of a good leader. If only her mistress had a hundred such as he, she thought, she’d have gotten her crown and the United Lands would be free from Roman meddling. Her stomach rumbled as if in agreement, and Imi realized how hungry she was. She’d not eaten for the day. It was strange to think that she’d feared for her life just a short time ago. The sky betrayed no hint of the menace it had recently contained, the sea lapped gently at the shore, innocent of any fury. Was it because of the pleasure she’d shared with Seleucus that the storm had arisen? Had the Great Mother sent that strange creature to punish her for breaking the spirit of her oath if not the letter of it? Imi chewed the inside of her cheek. She’d had no choice. What choice had she had? But perhaps she’d enjoyed her intimacies with the captain too much for the goddess’s liking.

Imi hugged her arms around her knees and tried to think things through. If the Goddess was displeased with her, she would have to find a way to make amends.

“Imi, aren’t you hungry?” Seleucus called.

Startled, she realized that the pirates had brought out some of the food and were sharing it among the prisoners and themselves. Everything was soaked in seawater, which made the bread inedible, but the cheese and figs satisfied her hunger. Afterward, the crewmen set to putting the galley to rights.

“Here is as good a place as any to careen the ship properly,” Seleucus said to her. “Despite the storm, we’ve enough food to last us till Delos, but tomorrow I’ll send some of the men into the countryside to search for more and for fresh water besides.”

“Do you plan to stay here long?” Imi asked. She had no desire to delay her return to Ephesus and her waiting mistress, but the little harbor was idyllic. She wondered what it would be like to live in such a place, away from everyone else, away from court intrigues and perhaps even from the expectations of divinities.

“Two weeks or more if there’s food to be had roundabout,” he answered. “That’s how long it’ll take since we’ve not had a chance to do it for months. The men don’t like this job, and I, myself, find it tedious, so I’ve let it go overlong. But we’ll not withstand another storm like that without strengthening her. I’d have preferred to wait, but what with the repairs, it makes sense to do everything now.”

Two weeks! Antony could reach and leave Ephesus in that time.

“But if the men find no food source tomorrow, then we’ll just patch her up as best we can and leave in a day or two.”

Imi breathed a sigh of relief and offered up a prayer that the region was bare of anything remotely edible.

“Do you need my help?” she asked, as the crewmen began to remove barrels and crates from the galley.

“No, my men know what they are about.” He smiled at her. “You might only get in our way.”

“I’ll take a walk then,” she said. “It feels good to be on land, though the ground feels as if it’s rolling.”