‘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.’
XVII
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.
‘Would we have any chance at all?’ Ovidius asked, his tone one of curiosity rather than anxiety.
‘None at all, my lord. That is if the wind does not pick up soon. Even then, they can sail as well as row, and probably outnumber us ten to one.’
‘At least they are going in the direction we expect, returning to Hibernia for their comrades. We must hope that by now Cerialis is free, and the tribune heading back to the ships, while the Harii will be carrying off the ransom to meet with their ship.’
‘That is what we must hope.’ They had agreed to tell the pirates that Probus had fled the camp, fearing for his life, and that Ferox had gone in pursuit. The tribune would promise to hand the merchant or his corpse over to the Harii when they met to give up Sulpicia Lepidina and the other captives.
‘I’m no mariner,’ Ovidius said a little later, ‘but it seems to me that they are well past us now.’ The fringe of white hair around his bald head rippled. Above them the sail started to fill, and the master began shouting at his crew to get to work. The whole feel of the deck beneath them changed as the ship surged forward. ‘Ah, now that the danger has passed we have what we needed to save ourselves,’ the old man said. ‘It has always struck me that one of the main proofs that the gods take an interest in mankind is the sense of humour that is so embedded in the affairs of the world. Often cruel, though it may be, it is surely there.’
‘My lord, why are you here?’ Ferox asked him.
Ovidius smiled. ‘My boy, we shall make a philosopher of you yet! But the answer is simple. I’m am here for the adventure.’
The storm came that evening and lasted throughout most of the next day. Ferox had sent Ovidius into the cabin, and wondered whether the old man was still so keen on adventure. One look at the stocky master of the ship was enough to show how worried the man was, and perhaps it was better not to know more about the sea and its moods. Even Bran, who had revelled in the life on board, was pale and terrified as he huddled next to Ferox, Vindex and the Brigantes. They kept together because somehow it made them feel a little less terrified. Ferox thought about Sulpicia Lepidina, imagining her imprisoned in a dirty cell, perhaps alone, struggling to hold on to any hope. At least they were all free, albeit at the moment free to drown or be dashed onto the rocks.
If they survived, Ferox felt that they had a chance of saving her and the others. The captive warrior had told them a lot, his initial reluctance to speak changing after Vindex and Segovax spent some time alone with him. His name was Duco, and once he began to talk the words spilled out in a great flow as they sailed north.