Our Eternal Curse I (9 page)

“
Wait!”

Believing that her fledgling
attempt at asserting control had failed Julia’s heart sank as she turned
reluctantly back to face the ox.

Signaling across the room to the
two men who had been forced to leave his table Bromidus added, “I will send
these men with you to the edge of the Subra, a lot of people get killed here
every night.”

I have power thought Julia
enthusiastically but hiding her exhilaration she replied politely, “That is
most kind.”

“
Not kind, I am protecting a business investment
nothing more.”  Then looking hard at Julia Bromidus added a sentence which
shook her to the core.  “You have the appearance of an angel but the heart of a
lion.  You are not a killer but you are capable of causing the death of many
men.”

Trembling imperceptibly Julia
turned to follow her escorts from the tavern unable to acknowledge his words. 
Silently walking home beside the weeping Gavius she could not come to terms with
his observation. 
A cause of many men’s death
was certainly not how she
saw herself
she was an ordinary young woman merely a victim of circumstance
. 
It may be well hidden from others but deep down she was still the vulnerable
little girl Sulla had brought to Rome.

After her terrifying trip to the
Subra, Julia realized how little she knew about the real world and this lack of
knowledge presented itself as something to be feared. It left her feeling more
vulnerable than she had ever been and something had to be done in order to fill
in the gaps.  The only way she could think of doing this was to converse with
the repulsive men she had seen in the tavern but confronting such people was
not something Julia knew how to do.  Steeling herself with liberal quantities
of strong wine and the thought of acquiring her beloved “lions” Julia forced
herself to confront her fears and spent weeks piecing together the relationship
between Bromidus, the black-market and the pirates.

Her most effective method of information
gathering was to simply follow the various men who delivered oil to Gavius
until it was possible to engage one in conversation.  If he stopped at a tavern
Julia sat hooded beside him and shared jugs of wine purchased with money
borrowed from Gavius.  If he stopped at a market stall she would simply bump
into him, it wasn’t hard for a young woman to meet a man.

Her meetings were interspersed
with idle chitchat to avoid making the men suspicious and her enquiries were
always innocently crafted to fill in specific gaps in her knowledge, and as
time went by Julia noticed that her flirtations clearly made men feel special. 
She also noticed that regular conversations gave her the practice she required
to become the character she had to play every day.

One of these unsophisticated,
love-starved men who went by the name of Marcus turned out to be a mine of
information and Julia quickly realized that she could use her now finely tuned
character and his weakness for strong drink to play him like a fish on a hook.  
As long as she baited the line with jugs of wine he seemed powerless to resist
her questions.  The more Julia poured the more he spoke until one day he let
slip that he had spent many years at sea with Bromidus and Julia set about
prizing the details from his alcohol-soaked memory.  His interrogation took
many drunken days and unlike the other men, who were sometimes guarded, wine
removed all of his inhibitions.  Information simply fell from his slurring
mouth in completely reckless sentences and Julia took full advantage of his
condition.

Marcus, as it turned out, spent
his time in the military like all young Romans and his service had been on the
war galleys fighting at sea.  He fought many battles in his six years in the
service and was proud of them all but his last battle as a nautical legionary
had been the one that changed his life forever.  His trireme was sailing to
Rome from Tarsus in Asia Minor carrying ten high ranking officers who were
returning for leave.

Not even halfway through the journey
they were unlucky enough to sail directly into the path of a rebellious Syrian
battle fleet.  Caught in a downwind position with no sails up their only source
of propulsion were the slaves working the oars below decks.  By the time the
crew turned the vessel and raised the sail the Syrians were upon them and all
was lost. 

Slurring as he spoke Marcus
recalled the screams from below decks as the Syrian ships slammed into the oars
snapping them like twigs.  Julia was fascinated by his account of these unfortunate
wretches who were chained to their rowing stations and smashed like rag dolls
as the heavy oar handles flailed around with inconceivable force.

“
That same force must have knocked me out,” said
Marcus in a sad voice, “because I woke up on a large piece of driftwood with no
understanding of what happened.  One moment I was fighting, the next adrift.”

“
Just you?” asked Julia trying to understand where
Bromidus fitted into his tale.

“
No, three others were on the makeshift raft with
me. In fact it was they who had pulled me unconscious from the water two days
before.  Of the three men with me two were members of the officer party
returning to Rome for rest and recuperation and the third was a very severely
injured Bromidus.  His face was completely opened down one side and as we had
nothing to dress the wound, it festered and wept for days.”  Looking up into
Julia’s eyes Marcus added, “All four of us had survived by sheer chance you
know?  We were off watch and sleeping below when the attack happened.  There
was simply no time for us to put on the armor which dragged all of the others
to a watery death.”

Nodding to acknowledge his good
fortune Julia asked, “How did Bromidus survive under such conditions?”  Very
aware that she was showing a little too much interest in her principal
objective but Julia correctly assumed that Marcus was too drunk to be
suspicious.

Pausing thoughtfully Marcus
seemed to ignore the question as he remembered which part of the galley his
raft came from.  “It was a huge part of the hull from just above the waterline
made from solid oak.  Can you believe that?”  He then went onto mumble
something else about the destruction of the trireme he seemed to be having
trouble understanding the forces required to smash a structure that was so well
manufactured.

Annoying as these irrelevant
meanderings were, Julia always resisted the temptation to speed up his
storytelling just in case something interesting came out of the details. 
Anyway, Gavius’ money paid for wine which both loosened tongues and propped up
her self-confidence so there was no real need to hurry.  “Tell me about the
survival of Bromidus?” repeated Julia in a gentle attempt to bring him back on
her course.

Looking up as though seeing
Julia for the first time Marcus remembered where he was and smiling with a
little embarrassment as he forced himself back on tack by saying, “After five
days of sun baked misery one of the officers sighted a sail in the distance and
began to wave frantically.”

“
What about Bromidus?”  snapped Julia losing
patience with the very weakness she was exploiting.

Staring through glazed eyes
Marcus looked hurt and his head wobbled a little as he asked, “What about
Bromidus?”

Julia softened her tone, “How
did he survive?”

“
I don’t know, he just did, he’s as strong as an ox
that one.” Then he continued along his original path, “Anyway to the centurions
it was worth the risk.”

“
What was?” asked Julia losing track of his
disjointed story telling.

“
Waving at the sail remember?  That’s what I was
talking about.”

“
Yes, of course,” replied Julia regaining her
patience as she filled his goblet almost to the rim, “please go on.”

Lowering his lips to the edge of
the goblet Marcus made a sucking noise then lifting both his head and the cup
he sat back.  Not a drop was spilled and Julia smiled at his child-like
ingenuity.  Returning the nearly empty goblet to the table Marcus continued his
tale about the sail on the horizon.  “As patrician Romans they felt that they
should die in battle with dignity not on an ocean without honor.  They didn’t
care if it was a Syrian ship, better dead than a slow painful death without
food, water or respect they said.  Bromidus and I just didn’t want to die of
starvation.”

Looking at his empty beaker
Marcus hesitated.  Following his lead Julia slid the jug across the table and
gestured for him to moderate his own pace.  As he poured Marcus added, “Coming
alongside to inspect us the Captain of the vessel spoke only Greek.  As
educated men the officers understood what he was saying but we just sat
listening without understanding a word.  The conversation became heated and a
few of the crew lowered themselves down to the raft to lift us aboard and much
to our amazement the officers resisted.  We were all so weak that any attempt
at defiance was pathetic and once we lay on the deck the conversation became
even angrier.   One of our officers told they were pirates and the Captain is
short of fighting men he will only take us if we join his crew.”

Julia listened to his story in
silent fascination.  Apparently the choice for Marcus was simple as he had no
wish to die and neither did Bromidus.  Fighting for Rome or fighting for
pirates it was all the same to them just as long as they were alive.

“
Bromidus used sign language to indicated that he
was willing and so did I,” said Marcus. “We just needed water I would have
killed my mother for a drink of water at that moment.  Anyway as you can
imagine our willingness to serve brought a smile to the Captain’s face. On the
other hand, our officers were shocked and disgusted but Roman officers were
always disgusted at one thing or another, it mattered not to us.

The Captain gave a rapid string
of orders and the crew grabbed the officers; the fools tried to resist but
those proud Romans had the strength of children and no weapons.  The pirates
laughed as they dropped them over the side and the galley sailed on with none
of its crew looking back.  Bromidus and I alone watched them go, standing by
ourselves leaning on the rail at the stern next to the steering oar and seeing
them pass into the distance we made a promise to each other there and then that
we would never do anything based on pride or as the officers called it ‘
dignitas
’. 
All we could think about was how pathetic those two Roman officers looked
hanging onto that tiny bit of driftwood.”

“
What became of them?” asked Julia with a hint of
sympathy in her voice.

“
Only the Gods know that.” Marcus paused, then
thoughtfully added, “Stupid bastards.”

Deep down, Julia was still a
compassionate human being who cared about others.  She could not yet understand
the ruthlessness of violent men.  Looking into Marcus’s eyes she felt sure that
she was about to hear a tale which would provide an insight into their minds.

“
Bromidus made a very willing pirate,” continued
Marcus, “and once his wound healed he proved how good a fighter he was.  Always
the first to leap on to another vessel for combat.  He didn’t care if it was an
armed war galley or an unarmed cargo vessel he just liked to kill people.  This
was his vocation Bromidus was the perfect pirate and over the course of two
years he became a favorite with the crew.  The Captain also liked Bromidus
because he was losing less of his men in combat.  The big man’s ability to
fight was second to none; always at the center of any battle the others would
try and match his ability and through his teaching they learned to fight like
an army not a rabble, and when there was no fighting to be done Bromidus and I
spent our time doing what pirates do best, drinking and whoring.”

Listening to the next part of
his story Julia felt twinges of deep sorrow for the women who were enslaved
after being taken from conquered ships.  Marcus explained that some of the
women grew to accept the life and become willing servants whilst others hated what
they became and found ways to kill themselves.  Julia understood how they must
have felt. She had been raped and maltreated herself. She knew the pain of it.

Quite oblivious to her maudlin
thoughts Marcus carried on with his slurring story as Julia wondered how awful
his atrocities had been.

“
We pirates never cared because death was a part of
our life,” he said. And without any show of compassion added, “They slit their
wrists, hung themselves from beams below decks, one even climbed the mast and
hung herself from the cross trees but we just laughed.”

Looking up from the table even
the insensitive Marcus could see that his words were having a terrible effect
on Julia.  She was obviously on the verge of tears and in a clumsy attempt to
prevent them from falling he changed the subject. “There was one unusual woman
who made a fantastic pirate,” he said. And as Julia’s face turned from sadness
to interest, Marcus relaxed—he had prevented his source of free wine from
leaving.

“
It was after a particularly violent assault on a
civilian vessel,” he added.  “We found her below decks with a load of women,
ladies in waiting she called them, and by the Gods she was proud.  She turned
out to be the Proconsul of Mesopotamia’s wife,” said Marcus becoming animated
as he added, “What a bitch she was.  Her ladies were all raped by the crew but
apparently she was too good for us.  One of the lads had her against the mast
but the Captain stepped in.”

Glancing up at Julia once more
Marcus realized that she was on the verge of tears again and by way of changing
the subject added, “I think it was her high Roman breeding that appealed to his
sense of status.  I suppose it could have been the potential of a significant
ransom if she remained unharmed but he never did ransom her.  He tried once but
gave up after that.  I think he grew to love her.”

Composing herself as best she
could Julia felt a strong impulse to leave the dingy tavern because she found
these stories of abuse positively overwhelming but for some reason the
Proconsul’s wife seemed important.  Julia assumed that the uneasy feelings this
woman provoked within her was what the fortune tellers at the Forum called a
premonition.  She felt compelled to listen so waving at the woman who served
the jugs Julia indicated that she wanted another.  When it arrived Marcus
filled her goblet and she took a deep steadying draft by way of bracing herself
for the inevitable violence which always accompanied his narrative.