“Centurion,” he said quietly, “if youthink that it means we are looking at a map of the coast ofBritannia, then you are correct. And,” he hurried on, and I couldunderstand why, “we are closer to Britannia than anywhere else. Weare going to have to row there if we want to survive.”
And, as he finished, in the silence justbefore the cabin exploded in noise, I swear on Jupiter’s stone thatI heard mocking laughter.
As unpalatable as it was, by the timeMotius, with the barely noticeable help of Cador, had finished,none of us doubted that our situation was what they said it was.Their credibility was helped by their clear unhappiness at theprospect of this choice, but it was also Motius’ manner as hedescribed how, now that there had been two days of clear weather,both during the day and night, he was able to calculate ourposition with more accuracy, although he also took pains to prepareus for the idea his calculations were approximate. The clinchingargument was straightforward.
“If we continue westward, we should bewithin sight of land by this time two days from now, if we onlyhave the slaves row,” Motius explained. “If you order your men tospell them, we will reach the same spot with enough daylight tochoose a safe place to put ashore.” Looking around at each of us,he continued, “If we turned and sail directly south, even if yourmen helped, we would need four days, perhaps five. And,” he added,“we would run the risk of encountering those ships that chasedus.”
It may seem odd, but this was thefirst moment it occurred to me to ask, “Who are those cunni? Gallic pirates? I never heard aboutpirates in these waters.”
“That is because they are not pirates,nor are they from Gaul,” Cador spoke for the first time. “They areraiders, probably from the Chersenesos Peninsula. Or,” he allowed,“maybe from Scandavia.”
“Where in Hades is that?” Gemellusblurted out, but it was a good question. Scandavia was familiar tome, though I could not immediately place why, but notChersenesos.
“Chersenesos is to the east of theAlbis River. According to Strabo, it is several hundred miles, andit runs north from the rest of the coast of Germania.”
Despite the gravity of the moment, I had tosuppress a smile at the looks of astonishment, and it wasColumella, who like all of us, was fond of my clerk, who growled,“Should have known if anyone knew, it would be you. You Greeks loveto read when you’re not buggering each other.”
Alex was far too experienced and accustomedto this treatment to do anything other than grin at the Second’sOptio, who gave him a playful shove.
“You’re not giving him enough to do ifhe has so much time to read, Pilus Prior,” Herennius scoffed, butit was still said with the same rough and affectionatehumor.
“I’ll remember that next time you wanthelp tallying your bank, Herennius,” Alex countered. “You canexplain to the boys in the Second why they’re short on theiraccounts.”
Herennius was wise enough to know there wasno real rebuttal to this, but it was Cador who resumed speaking,although it was almost as if to himself.
“It is odd, though. I have never heardof any of those savages from Chersenesos being this far west, orthe barbarians from Scandavia sailing so deep into Gallicwaters.”
“Could they be from Britannia?”Saloninus asked, but both Cador and Motius shook theirheads.
“The Britons don’t have ships capableof handling the open seas. Their ships are made for crossing thechannel between Britannia and Gaul at most,” Motiusexplained.
“I don’t care who they are,” I brokein, thinking that while this was interesting, unless whoever theywere had a bearing on our future, they were now a part of our past.“What are the chances of running into them again?”
“Next to nothing,” Motius assured me,though I did not care for the qualifier much.
“Could we stretch the rations farenough to get to Gaul?” Saloninus asked Herennius and Mus, but itwas Cador who answered.
“It is not the food that is theproblem, Opt…I mean, Centurion.” He managed to recover himself,although I was more irritated than Saloninus at what I perceived tobe a slight. “Unless there is a storm, or even a good rain, we willnot have enough water.”
And with that, we all accepted that we wereheading for Britannia.
“What do either of you know aboutBritannia?” I asked. “I know there’s trade going all the time, butI’ve always been under the impression that it’s almost exclusivelywith the tribes and Roman settlements along the western coast ofGaul.”
“They certainly do most of it,” Motiusagreed, “but there has been trading from the Rhenus and the Mosafor a long time. And,” he indicated himself, “I was part ofVellocatus’ crew three years ago when we took some cargo from theMosa across the channel.”
“Then you’re at least familiar withthe island,” I said hopefully, but he shook his head.
“I am familiar with this part.” Hepointed down to the lower part of the map, where the land bulgedout to the east, narrowing the gap of water between Britannia andGaul, which, understandably, was where most of the traffic in tradebetween the island and the mainland took place. Moving his hand, hepointed to a spot farther up to the north that looked as if someinvisible giant had cut a slice out of the island that actuallyreached the edge of the map that would be the west; as I learnedlater from Motius, the mariners’ map of Britannia only went roughlyfifty miles inland from the coast. “We are heading directly forsomewhere along here.” His finger tapped the missing slice. “Thisis the estuary of a major river, although I do not know its name.The land on the north side of this estuary is controlled by a tribecalled the Brigantes, and south of it the Parisii. And south of theParisii are the Iceni, although we will not be encountering them ifwe land where I intend.”
“And?” I asked him. “What are theylike?”
“They are savage, they are wild, andthey love to fight,” Motius answered immediately, which was metwith groans from the rest of us, yet he did not seem all thatperturbed.
“Why aren’t you worried about this?” Iasked, suddenly suspicious, but never could
