The Galley Page 4

  In the line before me, a woman was weeping and complaining as the soldiers tried to force her into the wagon. She protested that she had never been separated from her husband who had been placed in another wagon. The soldiers tried to lift her up but she was a heavy, well-fed woman and they could not move her. Two others joined in the effort and they raised her up onto the bed of the wagon. They misjudged the distance and she came crashing to the ground on top of two of them. Several of the soldiers found this amusing and began to laugh.

  What happened next was so quick and unexpected that I cannot account for all that took place. A moment after the woman fell on the soldiers Barbosus leapt down from the wagon and swung his great arms, like a hammer, into the face of the soldier nearest to him. I do not know whether the blow killed him or knocked him out, for he relieved himself and crumpled to the ground. The other soldiers quickly reacted to this and sprang upon him but it was like wrestling with a bull and he was not easily overcome.

  As this was going on I noticed that only one soldier remained to guard the rest of the line I was in. I realized that this would be the only chance I would ever get. I looked down the street to my right and it was clear beyond the wagons. If I could make it past them, I might be able to get away. They had taken no names as yet and they would never know who I was.

  I took several steps to my right and started to run. The soldier drew his sword and tried to stop me. I sprang into the air and kicked him hard in the chest, knocking him down. When I landed on my feet I ran as fast as I could. I did not look back, as I could hear the soldiers yelling and running in pursuit. Once I was out of the light they had lost me. The hour was now quite late. There was no sound on the street but the clatter of my sandals on the stones. I realized this and kicked them off, tossing them over the nearest wall.

  Presently, I came to a stairway leading to the next street above. Twelve steps up, there was an alcove. I ducked into it as I saw three soldiers stop at the bottom of the stairs. The guard ordered them to split up, one in each direction, and the third up the stairs to where I was.

  As he moved up toward me I pressed myself into the alcove. My heart was beating like mad. So loud I thought for sure he could hear it. But he did not, for he crept up slowly, unaware of my presence. As he drew near I held my breath. He did not notice the alcove at first. I never gave him the chance to.

  I quickly grabbed his arm and slammed his face into the stone wall as hard as I could, knocking him unconscious. I grasped his sword and straddled the blade with my wrists, cutting the bonds. Taking the sword, I bounded up the stairs to the street at the top. It was empty when I got there, with only a high wall on the other side.

  I took several steps when I heard the soldiers’ footsteps at each end of the street. As I saw the shadow of one approaching at the far end I dashed to the wall, hiding myself between two tall pines next to it. They were on the street, closing in on where I was and I looked around for a way out. The only way was up and over the wall. I left the sword behind a tree and scrambled up the rough-hewn stones. Before they reached me, I was over the wall and found myself in the yard of a very large estate.

  I saw the light coming from an iron gate to the street but, as I moved toward it, the guards stopped and began looking inside for me. I froze in the dark and watched their silhouettes against the light. They did not see me and moved on. I could hear their footsteps outside. I decided my best chance was to cross the estate and escape from the other side. I moved slowly across the lawn toward a great mansion, which was in darkness, except for a glow from the other side. Just as I decided to avoid the house, I became aware of a soft sound to my left.

  I turned to it and saw two glowing orange eyes. The eyes began to growl. This house had a dog! I scrambled toward the house and the dog ran after me. As I came around the corner I could see the source of the glow: a large, ceremonial fire was burning unattended. In the flickering light, I could see the animal. It was gaining on me. I scrambled up an open stair toward the edge of a balcony. I was trapped but I had one chance: I got to the top and crept out onto the narrow ledge. The dog could not follow and began to bark. I slipped over the rail onto the balcony and crouched down.

  Through the grate, I saw a figure enter the firelight to investigate. I saw her but she did not see me. She told the dog to be quiet and began to tend the fire. Suddenly, I realized where I was. This was no common woman, she was a Vestal, tending the eternal flame! Every resident of the City knew where the House of The Vestals was before the fire but where they were quartered during its restoration was not common knowledge.

  In my haste and ignorance, I had flown from imprisonment to certain death. For no man, not even the Emperor Himself, could set foot in the House of The Vestals under Penalty of Death. I could not have selected a worse place to hide.

  I tried to collect my thoughts and figure a way to escape undetected. With the Vestal below me and a dog prowling the grounds there was only one route of escape: through the house! I crawled to the open door and peeked through the curtains. There was no one about. I entered quietly and moved along the open hallway toward the far end. Presently, I became aware of splashing below me.

  I moved near a column to see what it was. Below me was an exquisitely decorated bathing hall of enormous proportions, all in the finest orange marble and red alabaster. In the center was a large wading pool where two maidens were bathing. An older Vestal was giving a very intimate massage to an extremely young and beautiful one and the spectacle was so pleasant to watch that I momentarily forgot my peril. As I watched these two nymphs I realized that three of the six Vestals were now accounted for and I would now only have to worry about avoiding the other three. I paused for a few moments more, absorbed in the now stimulating sexual display just below me.

  In my enjoyment I failed to notice that another young girl was approaching me from the other side with a tray of wine and oils, neither of us saw the other. Having seen my fill, I turned to continue my exit and ran right into her, knocking the tray from her hands. It hit the floor with a loud clatter of metal and broken glass.

  The girl was so startled and put off by me that she screamed; “There is a man in the house!” I was instantly aware of the sounds of many women’s voices about me. The house being used by the Vestals was originally owned by a Sisterhood who shunned the society of men. There were not six Vestals at all, but dozens of women, who promptly showed themselves with whatever they could lay hands on to attack me with!

  I ran down the hall, ducking the blows of these improvised weapons which were being swung at me, several of them connecting with my raised arms as I fled. One came very near to a glancing blow upon my head.

  I charged down the stairs to the bath but was confronted by dozens of angry women, who were closing in. As I felt the wall behind me I raised my hands and shouted, “Ladies please!” They stopped for a moment and I continued. “I am here by mistake, I did not mean to trespass upon you and I will leave here at once…”

  I never got the chance to utter another word for they resumed their attack with even greater vigor. Feeling hemmed in, my senses flared up as the blows kept coming. I pushed them back forcefully and tried to make headway for the exit.

  Suddenly, the group of women parted and I was faced by a large, round-faced, unattractive woman with the build of a bear, (She could easily have bested one.). She stepped forward, threw back her clenched fist and punched me right in the nose. The last thing I remember was my ears ringing and spots dancing before my eyes. Then came the darkness.

  I must have hit the floor. But I did not feel a thing.

  CONDEMNED

  When I awoke the darkness still surrounded me. I was also aware of one of the foulest odors I have ever smelled in my life. A strange tickling was crawling on my skin and I realized that insects were all over me. The feel of cold iron on my wrists shook me back into reality. I stood up and realized that I was shackled to a wall. I jumped up and swept the unwanted visitors off of me as best as I could.
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  I knew where I was. I was in the city prison, one of the few buildings in the district that was still standing unscathed by the fire. I had never been inside of it before. The awful dampness increased the rancid feeling in the air. This was a truly horrible place that oppressed the spirit as well as the body.

  It is easy when one is free to hold onto romantic notions of justice and efficiency in our government institutions. It is impossible to hold those beliefs from the inside of a cage. My experience is that government in all permutations is inherently irresponsible by nature. I suspect that the only motivation they ever have for doing good works is to curry favor with the people they wish to control. There are good men in government, to be sure, but they are far too removed from those who need their help to be of much use.

  Such philosophic arguments were far from my mind at the time. My sensation was one of primal fears, for I was truly scared. I think it was the most frightening moment of my life, for all was unknown to me. I had no idea what was on the other side of those walls or what they were planning to do.

  Suddenly, the terrible realization of my situation set in upon me. I had betrayed my family in the worst way possible. I was my father’s only son and the only chance for my family to rise in Roman Society. This had been my father’s dream. My foolishness would now deny him of this after all he had done to achieve it. I had failed in my duty as a son.

  A great pit had opened in my stomach. An ache that was more than hunger. A feeling of being twisted up in knots. As odious as the air about me was, I took several deep breaths to restore my sense of calm. I could not afford to let my instincts take over and create a panic inside me. If the worst was to come, I had to face it with a clear mind.

  Slowly, I could feel my muscles beginning to relax and I found my situation more tolerable. The pit in my stomach was turning into hunger. Feeling calmer, I tried to make out how many others were sharing this cell with me. There were no windows and I could see nothing at all. Nevertheless, my senses told me that I was alone.

  I could hear the cries and moaning of others but they were in another part of the prison. This confused me somewhat. Even though I did not know the charge, I had a pretty good idea what it was. The Vestals must have turned me over to the City Guard for my act of sacrilege, or perhaps the guards realized I was the one who fled, or both. It really did not matter at all because any of these crimes would result in my death. Still, I was surprised to find myself alone.

  Just as I was settling back against the wall, there was the sound of a key being turned in the lock to my cell. The door opened slowly, letting in a blast of blinding daylight from outside. Against the glare I could see the outline of a guard then, another figure appeared. I recognized him at once. It was my father. I was overjoyed to see him and yet ashamed that he should see me this way.

  “You have five minutes.” the guard reminded him, and my father moved into the cell with me. At first I could not see his face, but as he moved closer I could make out his features at last. The look on his face showed no anger, only pain. I could not think of anything to say by means of an explanation or apology.

  When he was finally close to me, he grabbed me in his arms and hugged me harder than he ever had before.

  “Have they hurt you, my son?” he asked.

  “No, Father,” I answered, “I am not hurt. Marcus is dead.”

  “I know.” he said sadly.

  I was about to explain when he covered my mouth with his hand. “Our time is short,” he said, “Listen closely. You have been condemned for violating the House of The Vestals. It is lucky for us that Pro Consul Gaius Laecanuis is an old friend of the family. He was able to suppress the other charge of being one of these Christians. I cannot imagine what kind of madness prompted you to go there. The Emperor has made an issue of these people and is blaming them for setting the fire.”

  “It is a lie!” I protested.

  “Shut up before someone hears you,” he demanded, “I do not care if they did or not! My concern is for your life and if you will not try to hang onto it for your sake, do it for me!”

  I hung my head but remained silent. He moved in closer and whispered in my ear. “The penalty for violating the Vestals is death, but I have appealed to the courts and had your sentence commuted to the galleys.”

  “The galleys?” I asked, very surprised.

  ”Yes, you shall go to sea,” he replied, “It is still a death penalty, only slower. Only the Gods know what cruelty awaits you there but, we were fortunate. The Senate has secretly commissioned a new fleet of Super Galleys called the Septimus Class. Very new, very state-of-the-art. They will have the most professional seamen in the Navy and the slaves are hand-picked, not the usual rabble at all. Your expertise at sail and your heroic efforts in the refugee city made it possible for us to have you placed among them.”

  “The galleys!” I said. I could still hardly believe it.

  “Do not think for one moment that it will be easier than any other torment,” he said, “The life of a galley slave is like being buried alive in a man-made hell. You will be chained to an oar and worked to death with a whip at your back, but you will be at sea. And you have always flourished at sea. You will need every advantage you can get to survive.”

  He grabbed my neck and squeezed it so hard it hurt. “What I have to say to you is this: be alert and always on your guard,” he said, “Keep your mouth shut and your eyes open. If the chance of escape presents itself, take it, for they will kill you sooner or later. When you run, never look back! Rome has abandoned you now.”

  He looked deeply into my face, as if recording every line upon it for memory’s sake. His face grew very sad and his eyes welled with tears, something I had never seen before. I began to weep as well, for I knew I was saying good-bye to my father for the last time.

  “My dear, sweet son,” he muttered, “I pray the Gods will have mercy upon you…wherever you are!”

  “I will always remember you, Father…I love you…” I said as he embraced me tightly. Refusing to let go. The guard stepped into the cell once more.

  “Time’s up!” he demanded.

  My father kissed me on each eye, as is the farewell custom of our tribe and then, upon the lips. He pulled away slowly, neither of us wanted to let go of the other.

  “Remember what I told you, my son…” As our fingers parted, he tried to speak again but the words would not come. I stood there and sobbed like a little boy as he moved toward the door and became an outline against the light. The guard guided him out and the door closed again, leaving me in darkness. I do not know how long I stood there weeping. It may have been all night, for I had lost all sense of time.

  I had looked upon the last friendly face I would see for a long time. A new chapter had started in my life. I would soon embark on an epoch of suffering where tears were no more than piss in the sea.

  THE ROAD OF THE DEAD

  I do not know whether it was my crime of sacrilege, or through my father’s influence that I was kept alone and sequestered from the rest of the prison. Except for the guard bringing my meals I never set eyes upon another human being during the two days I remained at the prison. The crawling insects were my only company and their society was most unwelcome.

  After about my first twelve hours in the cell, I got my first taste of prison food. Nobody who has not been in a Roman prison can imagine such a foul brew of grease, sawdust, insects and moldy grain. It smelled awful and tasted worse. After a few bites I could stand no more and consumed the stale bread which accompanied it. Even that small amount of the gruel left me ill and caused diarrhea all through the night.

  Weakened by this, I decided not to attempt any more efforts to eat the nasty concoction and tried to sustain myself on bread alone. By the end of the second day, I felt weak and miserable. Without energy even to fight off the incessant crawlers that seemed to live for no other reason but bother me.

  On the morning of the third day, I was granted a reprise from my persona
l pest hole and brought out into the light. I was unable to see at first, all was brightness and glare about me. The walls, floors and people moved about like specters in the painful glow. Slowly, my eyes began to adjust and I could make out faces: ugly and vicious they seemed to me. As my warder pushed me forward, I turned to see his face. A mistake. For he quickly struck me across the shoulders with his cudgel.

  “Do not look at me, you piece of shit,” he ordered, “Get up! Now!”

  I quickly did as he said and lowered my eyes, a practice that any condemned man had to learn quickly if he did not wish to suffer.

  As my eyesight returned, I became aware of something else: my arms, legs, all of me, was covered with angry red spots. My six-legged visitors had been feeding well even if I had not. The thought of this made me feel sick inside but I could do nothing about it. I knew better than to complain for a prisoner is entitled to neither rights nor comforts. Besides, I was too weakened to feel it anyway. At least I was in the light.

  We proceeded, with further prodding from my escort, into an open room with tables where I was ordered to sit down. I took a spot on a bench and cast my eyes on the well-worn table in front of me. Slowly, I began to take sidelong glances at the other prisoners and our guards. Without realizing it, I was beginning to learn a practice of seeing that prisoners know too well; to see out of the corner of the eyes without actually looking. It was a large dining area. I presumed it was used by the prison staff. There were twelve rows of long tables and I could smell the aroma of real food coming from nearby.

  Seated at the tables were fully six hundred prisoners like myself, naked except for the rags permitted for the sake of modesty. All covered with the same bites, and all just as curious about where we were as I was. I never saw so many people staring at each other without making eye contact before. Nor had I ever heard such incredible silence come from so many in one place. Except for an occasional cough, there was not a sound. The feeling was very unnatural and disturbing.