Knowing I had to say something, I fell backon, “But that’s not what Gnaeus wants.”
Our conversation was cut short by a rap onthe door, and when I opened it, Motius entered the cabin, but itwas Saloninus he wanted to speak to.
“Centurion, now that wehave reached the channel, I wanted to let you know what toexpect.”
Before Motius could continue, Saloninusasked, “How are the boys doing at the oars?”
Motius’ first response was a short laugh,but I suppose he saw Saloninus’ face, because he said quickly,“They are doing their best, Centurion. And,” he allowed, “sincethey have had some practice, I think we will make good time.Which,” I admired how he adroitly moved past the subject, “is whatI want to speak with you about.” Before he continued, he moved tothe small chest and withdrew the map that showed the coast ofnorthwest Gaul and Germania, spreading it out on the desk. “We areheading to Lugdunum Batavorum first.” He glanced up at Saloninusand asked, “Did Centurion Pullus explain why?” Saloninus shook hishead, and Motius briefly explained what Gnaeus had told me aboutthe coating that the mast needed. Then he hesitated for aheartbeat. “Also, as you know, once we deposit you in Ubiorum, wewill be completely without a crew. And,” he said thismatter-of-factly, but I was certain I heard a note of bitterness,“we will lose any chance of carrying at least one more cargo beforethe winter sets in.”
“What does that mean?”Saloninus asked.
“We will be ruined,”Motius answered. He took a breath, and I got the sense that he wasnot happy about what he was about to say. “My brother was a goodseaman, Centurion. Perhaps the best I have ever seen. But he didnot have a head for business. So,” he sighed, “there are people towhom I owe payment at the end of the sailing season because ofloans my brother took out to purchase those Parisii that we justreleased. The others we had to let go had been paid for, but whilethere will be some money left over, it will not be nearly enough toreplace an entire crew.”
It was, I reflected, a true dilemma forMotius, and I knew Gnaeus thought highly of him, or more highlythan he did Cador. Who, I will say, I believed could count his daysbefore Motius avenged himself for the death of Vellocatus.
“What are you askingme?”
“That you give us time inLugdunum Batavorum, where we will put in, paint the mast and to buya new crew,” Motius answered Saloninus’ question.
This did not make sense to me, and I pointedout, “You just said that you’re already in debt, Motius. How canyou afford to buy a new crew?”
“I will have to borrow themoney,” he answered, but before I could point it out, heacknowledged the flaw. “Yes, Alexandros, I know that I am alreadysaddled with debt. But,” he spread his hands, “what choice do Ihave?”
“How long would it takeyou in Lugdunum Batavorum to find enough men to replace us?”Saloninus asked, and Motius suddenly shifted on his feet, choosingto look down at the map.
“It is hard to say,” heanswered finally. “It could be a matter of three or four days.Lugdunum Batavorum is the largest port in northernGaul.”
I thought I saw an opportunity, because Iknow how far Lugdunum Batavorum is from Arelate, so I asked, “Wouldit make sense to sail farther south first?”
“It might,” heallowed.
“Where are you most likelyto find slaves quickly enough?” Saloninus asked, and Motiusconsidered for a moment.
“Perhaps Gesoriacum,” heanswered finally. “They are supposed to have a very active slavetrade there.”
This worked for me because it was closer toArelate. While we never discussed it, I believe that Saloninusrealized this as well.
“If that’s what you need,”he said, “then I suppose that’s the least we owe you. Besides,” heshrugged, “it’s not like we’re going to be doing anything exceptgoing into winter quarters and getting fat.”
With that, I was given the opportunity toreach Arelate faster and talk to Septimus. The problem was, I hadno idea what I would say, or even if he could help.
Chapter Six
It was in my third week at Petuarthat, when I realized I had to use a different notch on mybaltea, I decided to take matters inmy own hands to find some sort of activity to do, and I turned thelarge post in the yard of the hall used to hitch the horses as atraining stake so that I could resume practicing my forms. When Iasked Ivomagus for their version of a rudis, however, he looked at me as if I was mad,though not for the reason I thought, which was that he had nointention of letting me have anything that could be considered aweapon, for which I had an argument prepared, but it proved to befor a much simpler reason.
“You say,” he asked with obviousbafflement, “you Romans train with wooden swords?”
Honestly, it was the first time I had everthought about it and how it might be viewed by someone with limitedcontact with Rome.
“Yes,” I answered, somewhatreluctantly. “But they’re not just made of wood. They are linedwith lead on both edges, and the handle is hollowed out, and that’sfilled with lead as well.”
“Why do you do this?”
“It makes the rudis heavier than a gladius,” I explained to Ivomagus. “And when wetrain with a heavier weapon, when it’s time to fight, thegladius feels so much lighter thatit speeds up our movements.”
I could see that he was impressed, and hesaid as much.
“That makes sense. But,” he sniffed,“I still do not see how you can fight well with a sword that is soshort.”
“Would you like to find out?” I asked,and while my tone was pleasant enough, he was not fooled, his facedarkening.
“When Berdic returns with my brother,I am certain he will be more than happy to
