Читать книгу The Emperor Series Books 1-4 - Conn Iggulden - Страница 27

Marcus looked out onto the Mediterranean Sea and breathed in the warm air, heavy with salt. After a week at sea, boredom had set in. He knew every inch of the small trading vessel and had even helped in the hold, counting amphorae of thick oil and ebony planking transported from Africa. For a while, his interest had been kindled by the hundreds of rats below the decks and he spent two days crawling to their nests in the darkness, armed with a dagger and a marble paperweight stolen from the captain's cabin. After throwing dozens of the little bodies overboard, they had learned to recognise his smell or his careful tread, retreating into crevices deep in the wood of the ship the moment he set foot on the ladder below.

He sighed and watched the sunset, still awed by the colours of the sinking sun out at sea. As a passenger, he could have stayed in his cabin for the whole journey, as Renius seemed determined to do, but the tiny, cramped space offered nothing in terms of amusement and Marcus had quickly come to use it only to sleep.

The captain had allowed him to stand watch and he had even tried his hand at controlling the two great steering oars at the back, or what he had learned to call the stern, but his interest soon paled.

‘Another couple of weeks of this will kill me,’ he muttered to himself, using his knife to cut his initials into the wooden rail. A scuffling noise sounded behind him, but he didn't turn, just smiled and kept watching the sunset. There was silence and then another noise, the sort a small body might make if it was shifting for comfort.

Marcus spun and launched his knife underarm, as Renius had once taught him. It thudded into the mast and quivered. There was a squeak of terror and a flash of dirty white feet in the darkness as something scuttled deeper into shadow, trying too hard to be silent.

Marcus strolled over to the knife and freed it with a wrench. Sliding it back into the waist sheath, he squinted into the blackness.

‘Come out, Peppis, I know you're in there,’ he called. He heard a sniff. ‘I wouldn't have hit you with the knife, it was just a joke. Honestly.’

Slowly, a skeletal little boy emerged from behind some sacking. He was filthy almost beyond belief and his eyes were wide with fear.

‘I was just watching you,’ Peppis said, nervously.

Marcus looked more closely at him, noticing a small crust of dried blood under his nose and a purple bruise over one eye.

‘Have the men been beating you again?’ he said, trying to make his voice friendly.

‘A little, but it was my fault. I tripped on a rope and pulled a knot undone. I didn't mean to but Firstmate said he would teach me to be clumsy. I'm already clumsy, though, so I said I didn't need no teaching and then he knocked me about.’ He sniffed again and wiped his nose with the back of his hand, leaving a silvery trail.

‘Why don't you run away at a port?’ Marcus asked.

Peppis puffed his chest out as far as it would go, revealing his ribs like white sticks under his skin.

‘Not me. I'm going to be a sailor when I'm older. I'm learning all the time, just by watching the men. I can tie ever so many knots now. I could have retied that rope today if Firstmate woulda let me, but he didn't know that.’

‘Do you want me to have a word with the … first mate? Tell him to stop the beatings?’

Peppis turned even paler and shook his head. ‘He'd kill me if you do, maybe this trip or maybe on the way back. He's always saying if I can't learn to be a sailor, he'll put me over the side some night when I'm sleeping. That's why I don't sleep in my bunk, but out here on the decks. I move around a lot so he won't know where to find me if he thinks it's time.’

Marcus sighed. He felt sorry for the little boy, but there was no simple answer to his problems. Even if the first mate were quietly put over the side himself, Peppis would be tortured by the others. They all took part and the first time Marcus had mentioned it to Renius, the old gladiator had laughed and said there was one like him on every ship of the sea. Even so, it galled Marcus to have the boy hurt. He had never forgotten what it was like to be at the mercy of bullies like Suetonius and he knew that if he had built the wolf trap, and not Gaius, he would have dropped rocks in and crushed the older boy. He sighed again and stood up, stretching tired muscles.

Where would he have ended up if Gaius' parents hadn't looked after him and brought him up? He could very easily have stowed away on a trade ship and have been in just the sort of horrible position Peppis found himself. He would never have been trained to fight or defend himself and lack of food would have made him weak and sickly.

‘Look,’ he said, ‘if you won't let me help you with the sailors, at least let me share my food with you. I don't eat much anyway and I've been sending some of it back, especially in rough water. All right? You stay there and I'll bring you something.’

Peppis nodded silently and, a little cheered, Marcus went below decks to his cramped cabin to fetch the cheese and bread left for him earlier. In truth, he was hungry, but he could go without and the little boy was practically starved to death.

Leaving Peppis to chew on the food, Marcus wandered back to the steering oars, knowing that the first mate took a turn about midnight. Like Peppis, he'd never heard the man's real name. Everyone called him by his station and he seemed to do his job well enough, keeping the crew in line with a hard hand. The little ship Lucidae had a reputation for honest dealing too, with very little of the cargo ever going missing on voyages. Other ships had to write off such small losses to keep their crews happy, but not the owners of the Lucidae.

Marcus brightened as he saw the man had already taken his place, holding one of the two great rudders steady against the currents and chatting in a low voice to his partner on the other.

‘A fine evening,’ he said, as he came close.

Firstmate grunted and nodded. He had to be polite to paying passengers, but bare civility was all he would offer. He was a powerfully built man and held the rudder with only one arm, while his companion threw his weight and both shoulders into the task of holding his steady. The other man said nothing and Marcus recognised him as one of the crew, tall and long-armed with a shaven skull. He gazed steadfastly ahead, engrossed in his task and the feel of the wood in his hands.

‘I'd like to buy one of the crew as a slave. Who should I talk to?’ Marcus said, keeping his voice amiable.

Firstmate blinked in surprise, and two gazes rested on the young Roman.

‘We're free men,’ the other said, his voice showing his distaste.

Marcus looked disconcerted. ‘Oh, I didn't mean one of you, of course. I meant the boy Peppis. He's not on the crew lists. I checked, so I thought he might be available for sale. I need a boy to carry my sword and …’

‘I've seen you on the decks,’ the first mate rumbled from deep in his chest. ‘You were making angry faces when we were giving him his lessons. I reckon you're one of those soft city lads who thinks we're too hard on the ship boys. Either that or you want him in your bed. Which is it?’

Marcus smiled slowly, revealing his teeth.

‘Oh dear. That sounds like an insult, my friend. You'd better let that rudder go, so I can give you a lesson myself.’

The first mate opened his mouth to retort and Marcus hit it. For a while, the Lucidae wandered off course over the dark sea.

Renius woke him by shaking him roughly.

‘Wake up! The captain wants to see you.’

Marcus groaned. His face and upper body were a mass of heavy bruises. Renius whistled softly as he stood up and, wincing, began to dress. Using his tongue, he found a loose tooth and pulled out the water pot under his bed to spit bloody phlegm into it.

With the part of his mind that was active, he was pleased to notice that Renius was wearing his iron breastplate and had his sword strapped on. The stump of his arm was bound with clean bandages and the depression that had kept him in his cabin for the first weeks seemed to have disappeared. When Marcus had pulled on his tunic and wrapped a cloak against the cold morning breeze, Renius held the door open.

‘Someone beat the first mate into the ground last night, and another man with him,’ Renius said, cheerfully.

Marcus put his hand up to his face and felt a ridge of split skin on his cheek.

‘Did he say who did it?’ he muttered.

‘He says he was jumped from behind, in the dark. He has a broken shoulder, you know.’ Renius had definitely lost his depression, but Marcus decided that the new, chuckling Renius was not really an improvement.

The captain was a Greek named Epides. He was a short, energetic man with a beard that looked as if it was pasted on, without a troublesome hair out of place on his face. He stood up as Marcus and Renius entered and rested his hands on his desk, which was held to the floor against the rocking of the ship with heavy iron manacles. Each finger had a valuable stone set into gold on it and they glittered with every movement. The rest of the room was simple, as befitted a working trader. There was no luxury and nowhere to look but the man himself, who glared at both of them.

‘Let's not try the protestations of innocence,’ he said. ‘My first mate has a broken shoulder and collarbone and you did it.’

Marcus tried to speak, but the captain interrupted.

‘He won't identify you, Zeus himself knows why. If he did, I'd have you flogged raw on the decks. As it is, you will take up his duties for the remainder of this trip and I will be sending a letter to your legion commander about the sort of ill-disciplined lout he is taking on. You are hereby signed on as crew for this voyage, as is my right as captain of Lucidae. If I discover you are shirking your duties in any way, I will flog you. Do you understand?’

Marcus again began to answer, but this time Renius stopped him, speaking quietly and reasonably.

‘Captain. When the lad accepted his position in the Fourth Macedonia, he became, from that moment, a member of that legion. As you are in a difficult position, he will volunteer to replace the first mate until we make land in Greece. However, it will be I who makes sure he does not shirk his duties. If he is flogged by your order, I will come up here and rip your heart out. Do we understand each other?’ His voice remained calm, almost friendly, right to the end.

Epides paled slightly and raised a hand to smooth his beard in a nervous gesture.

‘Just make sure he does the job. Now get out and report to the second mate for work.’

Renius looked at him for a long moment and then nodded slowly, turning to the door and allowing Marcus to walk through first before following.

Left alone, Epides sank into his chair and dipped a hand into a bowl of rosewater, dabbing it onto his neck. Then he composed himself and smiled grimly as he gathered his writing materials. For a while, he mused over the clever, sharp retorts he should have made. Threatened by Renius, by all the gods! When he returned home, the story he would tell would include the blistering ripostes, but, at the actual moment, something naked and violent in the man's eyes had stopped his mouth.

The second mate was a dour man from northern Italy called Parus. He said very little as Marcus and Renius reported to him, just outlined the daily tasks for a first mate of a trader, ending with the stint on the rudder at around midnight.

‘Won't seem right, calling you first mate, with him still below decks.’

‘I'll be doing his job for him. You'll call me by his name while I'm doing it,’ Marcus replied.

The man stiffened. ‘What are you, sixteen? The men won't like it either,’ he said.

‘Seventeen,’ Marcus lied smoothly. ‘The men will get used to it. Maybe we'd better see them now.’

‘Have you sailed before?’ Parus asked.

‘First trip, but you tell me what needs doing and I'll get it done. All right?’

Puffing out his cheeks in obvious disgust, Parus nodded. ‘I'll get the men on deck.’

‘I'll get the men on deck, First Mate,’ Marcus said clearly through his swollen lips. His eyes glinted dangerously and Parus wondered how he'd beaten Firstmate in a fight and why the man wouldn't identify him to the captain when any fool could see who it had been.

‘First Mate,’ he agreed sullenly and left them.

Marcus turned to Renius, who was looking askance at him.

‘What are you thinking?’ Marcus asked.

‘I'm thinking you'd better watch your back, or you won't ever see Greece,’ Renius replied seriously.

All the crew who weren't actively working gathered on the small deck. Marcus counted fifteen sailors, with another five on the rudders and sail rigging around.

Parus cleared his throat for their attention.

‘Since Firstmate's arm is broken, the captain says the job belongs to this one for the rest of the trip. Get back to work.’

The men turned to go and Marcus took a step forward, furious.

‘Stay where you are,’ he bellowed, surprising himself with the strength of his voice. He had their attention for a moment and he didn't intend to waste it.

‘Now you all know I broke Firstmate's arm, so I'm not going to deny it. We had a difference of opinion and we fought over it, that's the end of the story. I don't know why he hasn't told the captain who it was, but I respect him a bit more for it. I'll do his job as best I'm able, but I'm no sailor and you know that too. You work with me and I won't mind if you tell me when I'm wrong. But if you tell me I'm wrong, you'd better be right. Fair enough?’

There was a mutter from the assembled men.

‘If you're no sailor, you ain't going to know what you're doing. What use is a farmer on a trade ship?’ called a heavily tattooed sailor. He was sneering and Marcus responded quickly, colouring in anger.

‘First thing is for me to walk the ship and speak to each one of you. You tell me exactly what your job is and I'll do it. If I can't do it, I'll go back to the captain and tell him I'm not up to the job. Anyone object?’

There was silence. A few of them looked interested at the challenge, but most faces were bluntly hostile. Marcus clenched his jaw and felt the loose tooth grate.

He pulled his dagger from his belt and held it up. It was a well-crafted weapon, given to him by Marius as a parting gift. Not lavishly decorated, it was nonetheless an expensive piece, with a bronze wire handle.

‘If any man can do something I can't do, I will give him this, presented to me by General Marius of the Primigenia. Dismissed.’

This time, there was much more interest in the faces, and a number of the sailors looked at the blade he still held as they went back to their tasks.

Marcus turned to Renius and the gladiator shook his head slowly in disbelief.

‘Gods, you're green. That's too good a blade to throw away,’ he said.

‘I won't lose it. If I have to prove myself to the crew, that's what I'll do. I'm fit enough. How hard can these jobs be?’