back; beneath this bed was a chamber pot. On the side, a table had been built out from the wall, and sea charts were unrolled across it, held down by lead weights on each side.
Vitas had been scrutinizing the small room carefully, hoping for a glimpse of the scroll that he’d lost during his fever. The only light, however, came from an oil lamp. It threw the captain’s shadow against one wall, casting an odd gleam on the oily skin of the man’s face.
“I only tell you this story,” Pavo continued, “because I want you to truly understand what kind of man I am.”
A rat rustled in the straw of the bed. The captain ignored it. He pointed to his once-broken nose and touched it lightly with the tip of his forefinger.
“The Jew was a brute,” Pavo said. “We’d been in a storm for two days, and he believed I’d made the wrong decision by pulling anchor to run ahead of it. I had the charts that told me we had open seas. He thought we would run aground.”
The captain pushed his nose sideways. He grinned at the sound of a crack. “I can’t stop a sailor from having opinions that differ from mine. But when he’s gathered the crew on the deck to share those opinions, that’s another matter.”
A push of the nose in the opposite direction. Another crack of cartilage. Another near-demented grin. “That Jew was responsible for this. You see, the crew ignored my orders to punish him. That left me two choices. Either fight him myself, or lose command of the ship. It wasn’t even a gamble. Losing to him would have been no worse than not fighting at all.”
The grin ceased. Pavo spoke grimly. “The gods favored me. He’d busted my face with a stave and was ready to finish me off when a wave almost capsized us. He slipped on the deck. I found my feet first. There wasn’t much left of his face when I finished working him over with the same stave he’d used on mine. But I left him alive.” The captain held up his hand, making it obvious he was pausing his story. “You don’t find this interesting?”
Vitas snapped his eyes away from his search of the cabin and back to the captain. “I’ve seen men fight other men.”
“I had him bound,” Pavo said. “Still alive, but bound. I waited until the storm had passed and all of the crew knew I’d made the right decision by pulling anchor. Then I slit a pig’s throat and filled a bucket with its blood. You do know that Jews are defiled by pigs, don’t you?”
Vitas said nothing. After years in Nero’s inner circle, there was nothing about any other man’s savagery that could impress or intimidate him.
“I sat on that Jew and held his head in the blood until he drowned,” the captain said, grinning. “And let me tell you, until he died, his body kicked and bucked so hard I could barely keep my balance. A wild mule would have been an easier ride.”
If he expected Vitas to grin in return at what was obviously a well-worn punch line to an often-told story, he was disappointed.
“As a Roman citizen,” Pavo continued, “I fully understand our ways of ruling the provinces. Reward those who obey. Destroy without mercy those who defy. The crew saw me drown that Jew, and I knew it taught them something they would not forget.”
The captain studied Vitas, looking for any reaction. Again he was disappointed. “Tell me why you dove overboard for the Jew with you,” Pavo said.
“It was wrong to sacrifice him.”
“And you would sacrifice yourself, too?” Pavo stared hard at Vitas.
Vitas stared back.
“No, you knew I could not let you die,” Pavo said. “That’s why you present a problem for me. The crew won’t forget that it looks like I serve you.”
“Set ashore at Messana,” Vitas said. “I’ll leave the ship.”
“You defied me in front of my crew. Forced me to turn the ship around to pull you and that Jew from the waters. How can they not wonder who has the greatest authority on my own ship?”
“Set ashore at Messana.”
“There is
Vitas had been scrutinizing the small room carefully, hoping for a glimpse of the scroll that he’d lost during his fever. The only light, however, came from an oil lamp. It threw the captain’s shadow against one wall, casting an odd gleam on the oily skin of the man’s face.
“I only tell you this story,” Pavo continued, “because I want you to truly understand what kind of man I am.”
A rat rustled in the straw of the bed. The captain ignored it. He pointed to his once-broken nose and touched it lightly with the tip of his forefinger.
“The Jew was a brute,” Pavo said. “We’d been in a storm for two days, and he believed I’d made the wrong decision by pulling anchor to run ahead of it. I had the charts that told me we had open seas. He thought we would run aground.”
The captain pushed his nose sideways. He grinned at the sound of a crack. “I can’t stop a sailor from having opinions that differ from mine. But when he’s gathered the crew on the deck to share those opinions, that’s another matter.”
A push of the nose in the opposite direction. Another crack of cartilage. Another near-demented grin. “That Jew was responsible for this. You see, the crew ignored my orders to punish him. That left me two choices. Either fight him myself, or lose command of the ship. It wasn’t even a gamble. Losing to him would have been no worse than not fighting at all.”
The grin ceased. Pavo spoke grimly. “The gods favored me. He’d busted my face with a stave and was ready to finish me off when a wave almost capsized us. He slipped on the deck. I found my feet first. There wasn’t much left of his face when I finished working him over with the same stave he’d used on mine. But I left him alive.” The captain held up his hand, making it obvious he was pausing his story. “You don’t find this interesting?”
Vitas snapped his eyes away from his search of the cabin and back to the captain. “I’ve seen men fight other men.”
“I had him bound,” Pavo said. “Still alive, but bound. I waited until the storm had passed and all of the crew knew I’d made the right decision by pulling anchor. Then I slit a pig’s throat and filled a bucket with its blood. You do know that Jews are defiled by pigs, don’t you?”
Vitas said nothing. After years in Nero’s inner circle, there was nothing about any other man’s savagery that could impress or intimidate him.
“I sat on that Jew and held his head in the blood until he drowned,” the captain said, grinning. “And let me tell you, until he died, his body kicked and bucked so hard I could barely keep my balance. A wild mule would have been an easier ride.”
If he expected Vitas to grin in return at what was obviously a well-worn punch line to an often-told story, he was disappointed.
“As a Roman citizen,” Pavo continued, “I fully understand our ways of ruling the provinces. Reward those who obey. Destroy without mercy those who defy. The crew saw me drown that Jew, and I knew it taught them something they would not forget.”
The captain studied Vitas, looking for any reaction. Again he was disappointed. “Tell me why you dove overboard for the Jew with you,” Pavo said.
“It was wrong to sacrifice him.”
“And you would sacrifice yourself, too?” Pavo stared hard at Vitas.
Vitas stared back.
“No, you knew I could not let you die,” Pavo said. “That’s why you present a problem for me. The crew won’t forget that it looks like I serve you.”
“Set ashore at Messana,” Vitas said. “I’ll leave the ship.”
“You defied me in front of my crew. Forced me to turn the ship around to pull you and that Jew from the waters. How can they not wonder who has the greatest authority on my own ship?”
“Set ashore at Messana.”
“There is