The Eagle and the Dragon, a Novel of Rome and China Page 8

  “We don’t know yet. The rigging should be completed next month. Frankly, the shipbuilder is not happy. But the Europa’s masts have been stepped, and that pretty much sets the design. Alea jacta est, the die has been cast, as we say in Latin. If I am wrong, and the ships sink on sea trials, I am out millions of sesterces and die in disgrace. But what else is new?”

  “You’ve always been a risk-taker, Aulus, and always a lucky one. Fortuna favet portuna, fortune favors the bold, as you also say in Latin. Well, this ship doesn’t belong in the same dock with your new ones but let’s see what we can show your friends.”

  He led them men aft in their tour. Along the way, they passed something familiar to the soldiers, five-foot ballistae, four on a side, very similar to the army’s wagon-mounted mobile crossbows.

  “I see you found our weaponry! This ship was built for the Mediterranean trade, and is only lightly armed,” Apollonius said. “Mostly we use incendiary bolts to set fire to a pirate’s ship. If you do that, you’ve won.”

  Antonius was impressed, “No marines?” he asked.

  “No marines. Our sailors can swing swords with the best.”

  Aulus added, “We will be adding still more capability to our Indian Ocean ships, because the waters will be more dangerous. Perhaps you can assist in training the crew?”

  “To be sure, sir,” answered Antonius, rubbing his hands over the smooth wooden guide, and the well-tended torsion spring of the lethal weapon.

  They continued aft to the quarterdeck, a deckhouse the width of the ship extending to the stern, with steeply-pitched ladders to the guardrail-lined roof. “Here we have an elevated quarterdeck.” Appollonius levered himself up the ladder to the roof followed by the three. “This gives us a better view of what is going on. The helmsman is here. And below deck it gives nice accommodations for the Master, Aulus Aemilius when he rides with us, and myself.” The goose-winged stern ornament soared over the quarterdeck in frozen flight. “Good luck, there,” he said, throwing his arm out in salute to the wooden bird.

  Apollonius led them down the ladder back to the main deck., turning into a hatchway in the center of the quarterdeck leading to a small hallway, dimly lit. “Straight aft is the shipping master’s cabin. My cabin is on the left, and opposite it is the navigator’s.” Apollonius opened the door at the end and held it while they entered the master’s cabin.

  That cabin ran the full width of the ship. The late afternoon sun streamed in through five expensive Egyptian glass-paned windows covering the entire stern. Only a few distortions upset the view of the harbor, looking aft to the dockyard and the Pharos lighthouse. The room was furnished with a large comfortable bunk, a reclining couch for dining, and a desk in the center under a hanging oil lamp. Apollonius laughed. “It is here the Master counts out how much money he made!”

  “Maybe. If he pays off his creditors!” replied Aulus with a wry smile.

  “How much do your ships under construction cost?” asked Gaius.

  “Millions! And still more to fund the crew and line up the money for purchases!”

  The size of this project was overwhelming to Gaius, who had been impressed with the one hundred twenty pounds of gold which he was supposed to deliver to the king of the Hanaeans, worth about a half-million sesterces. Now it seemed a pittance.

  “You put together some sort of a consortium to do this?” asked Gaius.

  “Consortium, yes, but I am still fronting over half the cost. I mortgaged this ship to the Aeliae Isidora and Olympias. They may be women, but they are the biggest shipping magnates in Myos Hormos and own the only shipyard there big enough to build my ships. I had to reserve space, paid in advance, before the Senate approved funding. But enough of that, that will be paid off. We will double our wealth in one trip, no problem. Continue the tour, Apollonius, and no more talk of mere money. What is gold, anyway, compared to a ship such as this? Just a shiny rock from the ground. These ships are a creation of the genius of man!”

  The captain’s and navigator’s cabins were similar but smaller than the huge master’s cabin, with wooden shutters instead of glass, propped up to admit the afternoon breeze. Appollonius allowed them to peer into his cabin, but not to enter. “It’s a mess. I am working out our sailing schedule for the next season.”

  They went below to the second deck by a ladder that led to the officers’ mess and quarters, smaller but still luxurious compared to a Danubian troop transport. They continued through the crew’s quarters in the center section, penetrated by the two masts. A handful of men worked at tables with attached benches at various tasks below swinging oil lamps. Along the sides were wooden bunks, four high, berthing for about two hundred men… almost three centuries without crowding.

  Apollonius continued his discussion of the technicalities of the ship, most of which were lost on the soldiers, as they peered down into the hold to the below decks cargo area to see lashed spare yardarms, extra timber, coil after coil of rope, the bones of the ship, the backbone of the keel. “Forward, dividing the two cargo holds and nearly dead amidships, is our water supply. When we are at sea, water is perhaps our most valuable resource. Landlubbers don’t realize it, but seawater cannot be drunk... it is too salty. We must carry all our own water for a thirty-day period at sea... That gives us an extra fifty tons of ballast down here to keep us balanced.”

  Against the forward bulkhead was a brick oven, covered by gleaming white ceramic tiles and vented by a brass hood, surrounded by well-kept cooking utensils firmly lashed down.

  “My good captain,” interjected Gaius Lucullus, “what is the longest period you have spent at sea in a ship like this?”

  “The Aeneas crossed the Mediterranean from end to end, from Spain to Alexandria, in about three weeks. Over two thousand miles, at an average speed of seven knots, without so much as a single break. There’s not a ship that’s come close to that.”

  Antonius winced at the thought. Two days was nearer his limit for time on the water, and he had found it far too long.

  “So there you have it, from stem to stern, top to bottom. I could not show you more without getting underway,” said Apollonius. “Aulus Aemelius, would you like to add anything?” The group climbed a ladder back up to the main deck and turned aft, returning to the quarterdeck.

  “No, my good captain, that was most excellent. I thank you, sir, for your most informative tour of this splendid vessel. You may join us in the master’s cabin or go about your many duties as you see fit.”

  “Thank you, sir, but I think I shall return to my perplexing schedule in my own cabin,” answered Apollonius. “I thank you both for your patience.”

  “And may Poseidon bring you fair winds always upon the wine-red seas,” answered Antonius, in flawless Ionian Greek, so different from his gutter Latin or dockyard koine.

  “And you also,” replied Apollonius, departing courteously.

  “That’s an excellent quote, my good Antonius,” said Gaius Lucullus.

  “Come in,” said Aulus, ushering the group into the cabin, while Appollonius detached himself into his own. “Our shipping master Hasdrubal is in Rhodes for the holidays, but he has left some fine wine aboard. I am sure he will not object to sharing it. Antonius, too?”

  “Please, yer Excellency,” replied Antonius, reverting to Latin.

  “Well, what do you think of the Aeneas?” asked Aulus.

  “She is a true beauty. You cannot fail but to make a fortune on your trip if your new ones are anything like her. What a phenomenal venture you have put together here!” said Gaius.

  “Cousin, I shall make a fortune or lose one. I have invested more heavily in this venture than anything which I have ever done. The ships are bought and paid for, and now all I await is the money from our consortium’s bank in Rome to finance the remainder: retainers for the crews, supplies, and money for trading on our arrival. About thirty million more sesterces. The bankers will be busy with letters of credit on this one!” said Aulus, pouring each a bronze goblet o
f red wine. “Alexandrian. A good local vintage.”

  Aulus offered a goblet to Antonius, then poured one for himself.

  The light was fading fast as the sun set over the Eunostos Harbor, framed fully in the stern windows. The Pharos lighthouse was already lit, its bronze reflector throwing its amber night beam into the gathering mist. The evening breeze was up, blowing the first harbor chill into the cabin through the open windows. Aulus lit a hanging lantern with a flint striker, trimming the wick till its friendly glow spread across the room.

  “The sun sets quickly here in Egypt. No lingering sunsets like at home in Italy,” he added, seating himself in the chair by the desk. “Please, there are folding chairs lashed against that wall. I am afraid we must tie everything down when not in use. It’s very... nautical,” he said with a chuckle.

  “When do we plan to depart?” asked Gaius, savoring his wine.

  “We must depart here not later than two weeks from now, down the Nile by boat, then overland to the port of Myos Hormos, about five hundred miles south of here. We must set sail from there by mid April, in time to replenish our stores in Sabaea before striking out across the Indian Ocean with the June monsoon.”

  Gaius’ heart sank, but he concealed his disappointment. No point to even ask about a trip home. “We can help with the overland trip, cousin. We can obtain, if you like, Imperial Post passes from III Cyr. It may be a bit austere, but the security will very good. We are carrying hard gold for the Hanaean court, no letters of credit for them! How many people in your party?”

  “I like that idea, Gaius. I’ll be taking my personal manservant, Lucius Parvus, and four servi, good bodyguards doubling as baggage handlers. Lucius handles all my finances and administrative work. He’s good... very good. Efficient. Can you cover all of us?”

  “We are all covered by Imperial orders, that will not be a problem.”

  Antonius volunteered the information he had gained the previous day, from the late Lucius Servilius Crassus. “Mail boat ter Thebes, then overland caravan with armed escort ter Myos Hormos. Two weeks travel at the most.”

  “That’s about a week better than I could do commercially, and much better security. I will also be picking up considerable hard currency in Coptos. Please, make the arrangements, but let me know at once if there are problems. Shall we adjourn to the inn now? Livia is eagerly waiting to talk more with you two.”

  The three returned to the deck, the western skies ablaze as the sun sank below the waters to the west, and the light of Pharos casting an amber glow on the purple rollers. The evening mist began to dull the horizon to gray, as the black bulk of the Danuvia patrolled the harbor approaches like a nervous hound, her long sweeps propelling her centipede-like over the uneven sea.

  And on the quay, a sailor with a narrow, weasel-like face, looked up from his work, carefully noting their departure.

  CHAPTER 8: THREATS AND COUNTERTHREATS

  A man darted swiftly from behind an Alexandrian alley, to cover his victim’s mouth firmly with his left hand. His right hand guided the razor-sharp knife through the dense black foliage of the victim’s beard, pressing its point firmly against the throbbing jugular, its blade across the windpipe.

  The assailant hissed in the man’s ear in sibilant Greek, “Not a sound. Struggle and you’re a dead man.” He increased the pressure of the knife blade ever so slightly to emphasize his words. “Nod gently if you understand.”

  The bearded man’s head bobbed up and down slowly, twice. The assailant nodded his head to the alley. “We’re going into the alley. Slowly.” The knife-wielder glanced up and down the street as he backed up. No one seemed to have noticed the attack, or even glanced in their direction.

  Out of the sunlight, he switched to guttural Aramaic, “Elibaal, Jeshua, quickly. Bind ye his hands.” The two men emerged from an alleyway door with a rope and swiftly secured the man’s hands behind him, then his feet, and gagged him with a dirty rag, before relenting his grip. Yakov and his assistant gracelessly placed the man face down in the alleyway muck, working the free end of the rope around the man’s neck in a slip knot. Any struggle on the hapless victim’s part would immediately threaten him with strangulation.

  They wrapped the man in a large blanket, and the three nonchalantly carried him back out on their shoulders into the street and the sunshine, to be dumped in the back of a donkey carriage. The choke rope guaranteed that the bundle wiggled only slightly, then lay quite still, as the three clambered onto the seat with Yakov at the reins. Yakov whistled up the donkeys, clucking and snapping the reins, and they pulled into the streets.

  They wandered the streets of Alexandria for an hour, mostly circling idly on a random course throughout the city. Whenever there were no observers, they prodded their bundle to ensure that it still moved or made a muffled, gagging sound, indicating it still breathed.

  At last they came to an alley near the Eunostos Harbor, and turned down that one into another, and yet another, each filthier and more run down than the last. They pulled to a halt before a three-story apartment that had been abandoned due to a fire.

  A matted, ragged blanket that had once sported four or five bright colors covered the doorway. The three dragged their bundle through the doorway and pulled the blanket behind them. In the dark, a single table sat in the middle of the room, incongruous amidst the charred, jumbled timbers from the collapsed upper floors. While the first floor windows were sealed with boards and blankets, light streamed in through the second and third floor windows, illuminating the stumps of floor joists protruding from the smoke-blackened plaster walls. A shadowy, robed figure sat behind the table. “Thou hast my package, Yakov. Is it undamaged?”

  Elibaal smiled, “But for minor handling.” He held out his hand. The gray-bearded man at the table slid three silver coins from his leather purse to the other side of the table, covering them still with his hand. “Let us then inspect the goods.”

  The three men undid the bundled man, removing the choke rope and foot hobbling. They left the hands bound and the gag in place, and helped the man to his feet. His eyes went wide as he recognized Ibrahim bin Yusuf. Ibrahim released his hold of the three silver coins and Elibaal took them, depositing one in his own purse and distributing the other two to Yakov and Jeshua. The three stepped into the shadows behind the bound man, who continued to glare at Ibrahim, who greeted his guest in Greek.

  “Welcome, my good friend. It is unfortunate that we cannot meet as before, but you must understand the precautions necessary now. Not even you can know of my movements this time.” He paused to clear his throat, and continued threateningly, “Perhaps, especially not you.” He rose, placed his knuckles on the table and leaned forward. “I am sure you would like some cool water. I will release the rest of your bindings, but you must remember not to cry out or try to escape. Where we are, screams are not unusual, even at high noon. They would not be noticed.”

  The man nodded. “Releasest thou him, Elibaal,” said Ibrahim.

  Elibaal undid the man’s hands, then his gag. Ibrahim passed him a cup of water. The man took some, rinsed his parched mouth of the foul taste of the gag, spat, and eagerly swallowed the rest. He hurled the cup away in anger.

  “What is the meaning of this outrageous abduction, Ibrahim? Are we not comrades and allies? If you mean to do me in, you must do it quickly, or by every god in Canaan, I will have your miserable hide crucified atop the very lighthouse of Pharos before sundown!”

  “I don’t think that I would be crucified alone, my eager partner in crime. I have too many details on our mutual endeavors to share with our Roman friends in the event that I were captured. In any event, we are still partners in our greatest enterprise to date.” Ibrahim returned to his seat, not taking his eyes off his guest. He withdrew a stiletto from his robe and proceeded to clean his fingernails.

  “I felt it necessary to inquire into a recent death of a Roman soldier in the III Cyrenaica fort. I presume you know something of this incident.” He completed th
e scraping of one fingernail and studied the deposit on the blade intently.

  “Of course I know something of this incident. The young man had to die. I would have preferred to have done in the centurion that night also, your friend Aristides of the cock-and-bull story, but he was not in his quarters.” The man was becoming sufficiently enraged that Elibaal and his companions edged closer.

  “Why did you think that he had to die, my friend?” asked Ibrahim calmly, still picking at his fingernails.

  “Because he could place me at the Bull and Dove. And the centurion could place you there. He saw me with you, though you were intelligent enough not to tell him my name. Even a Roman could deduce that perhaps we were both there - together.”

  “And how did he happen to be there, my friend?” asked Ibrahim, beginning the excavation of another fingernail.

  “You know that as well as I do. We have used that drop for six months. My agent dropped off our rendezvous location to their travel clerk, and the clerk was to caution anyone who inquired of shipping arrangements to beware of you and to ask for Hasdrubal. Your agent could then come, give the sign and receive the location, and the clerk never knew what he did. It only cost us a few denarii a month to keep him on the payroll.”

  “But that day, not only did someone come into a Roman camp really looking for shipping information, but you, you Arab fool, you introduced yourself to that stranger. So don’t blame me for the breakdown, Ibrahim, blame yourself. Had Aristides been an agent of the urban cohort instead of the idiot he turned out to be, you would be dead now.”

  “And you made sure that no one could connect me to you if that happened. Right?” asked Ibrahim, placing the stiletto on the table.

  “One of us has to survive. It might as well be me,” said the man with a mocking smile.

  Ibrahim stood up abruptly, his chair toppling behind him. He grabbed the man by his expensive but mud-stained robes, twisting the collar into a knot around his neck, and forcing him to his knees opposite the table. Ibrahim seized the stiletto and placed the point just above the man’s bobbling Adam’s apple. He pressed until the tip penetrated the flesh, a trickle of blood running down the man’s throat and over Ibrahim’s clenched fist. “Arrogant dog! You have profited handsomely from our many enterprises and live freely to enjoy the fruits of our labors in the open as the first among equals in Alexandria. While I, the despicable pirate with a price on his head, skulk around the stews of Asia Minor, always glancing behind for the Roman waiting to bring me in. For harvesting what you send down to me, for sharing in the overabundance of trade that comes with this great Empire.” He looked into his victim’s eyes, wide with fear. “Did you think,” continued Ibrahim, “that I was unaware that you might be tempted to offer me up, leaving you with your fine reputation, to enjoy your profits?” He paused, to let that sink in.