Gesturing to Saloninus, I pointed to thespot next to me as I began, “While the Primus Pilus said we weregoing to wait until we got back home to settle accounts and fillthe empty spots, I talked to him and asked for a specialexception.” This, of course, was an outright lie, and I sensedSaloninus, who had reached my side, turning to regard me with whatI was certain was surprise, but I ignored him, other than to lift ahand to indicate my former Optio as I announced, “You all knowAulus Saloninus; you know what an outstanding Optio he’s been.”Heads nodded, and there was murmured agreement, which I alsoignored. “Which is why he’s now your Quartus Pilus Posterior.”
Honestly, only the first two words of hisrank were audible, because the Century burst out into a roar ofacclamation, and without being given leave to, they came rushingforward to surround my former Optio as they offered theircongratulations. I extricated myself, moving to stand by Alex; thiswas Saloninus’ moment, and I had no place in it, but several menlooked in my direction with broad smiles or nods of approval. Thatwas not why I did it, taking what I knew was a risk, but I will notlie and say that it did not feel good to see the men of the Secondso pleased.
“All right, all right,” I finallycalled out. “That’s enough for now. When we get back, I’m sure yournew Pilus Posterior will be happy to stand for a round of drinksfor his boys. Or two.” Not surprisingly, this was an extremelypopular idea with those boys, and the exact opposite withSaloninus, who glared at me with his good eye as they filed past togo back below.
Then it was the turn of the First Century,but while we did not have a need to bury anyone, I did warn themnot to crowd to one side of the ship. I was also faced with thesame question, or a reasonably similar one, that Natta had posed,which I answered the same way. This time, I circulated among themen, joking with them and doing what I could to take their mindsoff our immediate situation, although I do not think I was thatsuccessful. Finally, I ordered them to return below to wait for theinevitable clearing that I had been promising them would come. Itwas right after Gemellus lowered himself down the ladder, while Iignored the searching look he gave me as I stood with Alex, that Ifelt the breeze suddenly stiffen, feeling it against my left cheek,and I recall thinking, I wish I knew what direction I was lookingso I could have an idea where the wind is coming from. Inhindsight, it was probably better that I did not know.
The only thing that can be said wasthat this second storm was not as severe as the first one, althoughit was only by a matter of degree, yet as I swung in the hammock,listening to the shrieking wind that was audibly lower-pitched thanbefore, it was not a distinction that made me feel better. Thisstorm hit during the daylight hour, so it was a bit more visible,but it was still very dark in the cabin. The other way I could tellthat this storm was not as bad was I clearly heard theHortator beating out the rhythm asCador, or so I presumed, kept the bow pointed into the wind toavoid being broached a second time. What I, nor any of the rest ofthe Romans aboard, appreciated was that, while Cador had indeedmade sure that we were not caught crossways by the wind, he had putus with the wind at our backs so that now we were moving at a goodspeed. However, the other thing that we were ignorant of, and Cadorinsisted he was as well after the fact, was that the wind he wasfollowing now was not coming from the north, as he assumed, butfrom the southeast. And, as we would learn some time later, asoutherly storm at that time of the year is very rare; it is not unheard of, however.Whatever Cador’s knowledge, and what his intention may have been,all that mattered was that we were in fact heading in the oppositedirection we should have been, so that with every oar stroke andwith the aid of the wind, we were moving farther away fromhome.
By the time the storm abated, it was growingdark, and I had gone to the main compartment to check on the menthree times, finding them at least prepared to bail again, thewater level inside the hull never getting anywhere near what it hadbeen during the first storm. It was now our fifth day at sea, andalmost three days since the first storm, but while it was dark bythe time I felt it was calm enough to go abovedeck to consult withCador, as I ascended the ladder, I was relieved to see the starsoverhead. At least, I thought, we’re going to find out where weare. I had barely set foot on deck when I sensed that something wasamiss, although I cannot really say how I knew; perhaps it was justsomething in the air, but my initial feeling was only strengthenedwhen I turned and faced the stern to see the four men who remainedof the crew huddled together with Cador, talking in low tones. Itwas their manner when they heard me approach that, even in thedark, I could tell was unusual, prompting the thought, It’s as ifthey got caught conspiring about something, and I slowed my step,debating what to do.
“Centurion,” Cador’s voice camethrough the darkness, and it enabled me to pick him out from theothers, “what are you doing up here? Taking the night air,eh?”
I know he sought to allay my suspicions, butboth the words and the tone put me on my guard even more, and whilethe thought had not completely formed, I asked bluntly, “Have youdetermined our position yet, Cador?” One of the other men confirmedmy fears, muttering what I had determined on our boarding to be acurse in their native tongue, given
