Hostage to Fortuna

painful when striking something solid. Morethan anything, it was his concentration, where he barely noticed mypresence, his face set in a mask of determination, reactinginstantly to my barked command to thrust. And, after a fewrepetitions, I saw that his rudiswas striking the mast more quickly than either Alex’s orSeptimus’, although it was by less than an eyeblink. In battle,however, a fraction of an eyeblink is the difference between lifeand death, yet what I found most impressive was how, when I movedto stand behind him but in a position where I knew I could be seen,he did not flinch, nor did he behave as if he knew I was observinghim. His entire concentration was on the mast, as the sweat randown his nose to fall onto the deck, his eyes narrow slits as hestruck his target with the kind of focus that comes from theability to transfer the enemy in your mind into the inanimateobject in front of you. Only when I barked at them to halt did heglance over, and when he did, I smacked him on the side of hishead, growling at him to pay attention. The first thing I did wasto demand that he show me his grip, but I was not surprised to seethat he was holding it in the manner that is now called theVinician grip, that anyone bearing the Pullus name, and the menthat Pullus may command, uses.

“Show me your first position!” Ibarked then, and he immediately dropped his hips while pulling hisarm back and, I noted with approval, held the rudis with the plane of the blade parallel tothe deck, pulling his arm back as far as it would reach, so thepoint was hovering just inches in front of his baltea. I circled around him, frowning wheneverI was within his vision while trying to hide my approval in theevent he glanced over his shoulder. It was not needed, but Ireached down and grabbed his waist, twisting it a bit, then Ikicked his right foot a bit closer in, although it was notnecessary, before grunting, “That’s not the worst that I’veseen.”

I ignored the broad grin that spread acrosshis face.

We sailed across the expanse from Sicilia toGreece in less than four days, the weather cooperating again,although the sun did not shine often. When we were not under oarpower, we were able to use the sails to make progress, although itwas still maddeningly slow. When we pulled in to what the Greekscall Akritirio Tenaro, or the town of Tenaros, at the very tip ofthe Maina Peninsula, five days after Messana, Demeter requested Imeet with him in his cabin.

“So far, the voyage has been easy,” hetold me. “But that is about to change. We are sailing southeast toCrete, but we are going to be hugging the southern side of theisland, and there are not many places where we can put in if we runinto bad weather.” To illustrate the challenge, he pointed to aspot on the map that he had unrolled as he explained, “In fact, theonly possible spot is called Kaudos, which is actually a smallisland about twenty-five miles south of the main island.” Hisfinger actually covered the island, but I took his word for it. “Ifwe are fortunate, if there is bad weather, it will be there.Because,” he moved his finger, sliding it into an expanse wherethere was nothing there, “this last stretch will be open sea, andif we are caught out there by a storm, and it is bad enough…” Helooked up with a grim expression and shook his head. Before I couldreply, he turned his attention back to the map. “Now,” his fingermoved back to Crete, “there is another route we can take thatsignificantly reduces our time in open water, where we sail almostdue south from Kaudos to Chersenesos Akra, then follow the coastall the way to Alexandria.”

“There’s a reason you’re telling methis,” I countered. “So I’m guessing that there’s an advantage tothe first route that balances against the risk of being in openwater. What you’re saying is that the safer route to ChersenesosAkra is also slower, is that it?”

The Rhodian nodded. “That is very astute,Centurion. And yes, that is exactly the case.”

“What’s the difference in terms oftime?”

“That,” he admitted, and when he beganstroking his beard, I knew that it was meaningful, “is thequestion, Centurion. The fact is that one reason that masters donot like making this crossing at this time of year is that theEtesian winds have stopped blowing. At least,” he added carefully,“most of the time. But when we put in at Messana, I spoke to themaster of the Charybdis, whowas actually making his last run back from Alexandria for the year,and he was quite frustrated because the Etesians have lasted longerthis year than they have in the last ten years.”

He paused, I supposed to allow me to thinkit through, but while I thought I understood, I voiced my thoughtsaloud. “So, if we get out into open sea, and the Etesian winds arestill blowing from the north, we can get there faster than we wouldnormally at this time of year?”

“Yes.” Frankly, he seemed relieved,making me wonder if he was laboring under the assumption that menunder the standard are a bit thick, or perhaps all land dwellersare. “That is what it means. But,” he cautioned, “we were inMessana five days ago, and we will not be out into the lane wherethe winds are the strongest for three more days. So there is a riskthat they could have finally died down.”

It was, I understood, a truly vexingproblem, but there was still one piece of information missing, andI asked, “How much time are we talking about? How many days couldwe gain, and lose?”

Demeter continued to stroke his beard as hestared down at the map, and I was about to shout at him to saysomething when he said at last, “Three days, perhaps, if the windsare still blowing.”

That’s not much, I thought, yetimmediately came the counterthought, but I need every single day’sadvantage I can get. Hanging in the balance against that was theknowledge that essentially