the truth, of course. That I fear not you or your authority, but that of some of the most powerful men in Rome. Yet I have my warning from them. To even hint at their involvement in your presence aboard my ship would mean my death and the death of my family.”
Vitas tried to maintain an appearance of disinterest. He had no idea of who had arranged to pluck him from the prison cell and put him on this ship. Nor why. It seemed, however, foolhardy to admit this to the captain until he knew more. The scroll. He needed the scroll that he’d been given in the prison by the stranger. Surely the scroll held the answers.
“Set ashore at Messana,” Vitas said. “I won’t be a problem for you off the ship.”
“So that not only do I fail to deliver you to Alexandria, but my crew thinks I’m too afraid of you to keep you on board?” Pavo snorted. “Why not ask me to tie lead weights to my ankles and jump into the sea?”
Pavo stood. Indeed, he was a large man.
Vitas stood too. Not quite as tall. Muscled, but without nearly the body weight.
“There’s another reason I told you about the Jew I drowned in pig’s blood,” Pavo said. “I now face a similar dilemma.”
Vitas stared back, barely inches away from Pavo’s face. He did not fear the silence that Pavo let fall upon them. He also did not break the silence like a rabbit bolting from cover in the presence of a hawk.
Long moments passed. Vitas did not expect Pavo to throw a punch or pull a knife. Though the tension between them was building, it was clear that Pavo needed to protect Vitas. Otherwise Vitas would still be floating in open seas. Yes, that had been the gamble Vitas took in his moment of calculated anger, leaping from the ship to rescue John. That if the captain had left Rome as he did, then Vitas was very valuable to him. Too valuable to let drown.
It was Pavo who broke the silence he had imposed. “If my crew now believes your authority is greater than mine or that I fear you, I lose my crew, my ship, and most certainly my life. Yet I must protect your life at all costs, or I lose my crew, my ship, and my life to those in Rome who put you aboard.” Pavo shrugged. “Either way, I lose everything.”
Vitas wanted badly to ask which men of Rome had put him on the ship. Where was that scroll?
“There will be a day,” Pavo said, “when you speak again with those who arranged for your escape. That is why I brought you down here to explain in privacy what must be done. Tell them that if I lost my ship to my crew, I would have been unable to deliver you to Alexandria. Tell them that there was only one way I could keep my crew and ensure you made it there.”
Pavo sighed. “I respect you. Even admire you. Your gamble that I would turn the ship around to pluck you from the sea was remarkable. But I must do what I must do. And you must allow it, because if I lose my authority on this ship, you, too, will die.”
Another sigh. “I promise, however, that if you don’t fight what must be done and make it appear like I am in full command, I will protect the Jew. I presume he is a valuable slave; otherwise you would not have risked your life to save him.”
“What is it that I must allow?”
“The whip,” Pavo said. “A minimum of ten lashes. From me. With all the crew gathered to watch.”
Hora Octava
Damian stood on the deck of a small riverboat, uncomfortable on water, as always, even if it was only the current of the Tiber taking him away from Rome. He and Jerome were the only passengers.
“Do you travel this river at night?” These were the first words Damian had spoken since boarding the boat, a question he addressed to the captain, a man named Volusius, who was a middle-aged, barrel-chested man with an obvious limp. Despite the limp, however, he moved efficiently, something Damian had silently observed as the man had made all preparations to cast from shore nearly an hour earlier.
“Perhaps you’ll want to take a nap,” Volusius
Vitas tried to maintain an appearance of disinterest. He had no idea of who had arranged to pluck him from the prison cell and put him on this ship. Nor why. It seemed, however, foolhardy to admit this to the captain until he knew more. The scroll. He needed the scroll that he’d been given in the prison by the stranger. Surely the scroll held the answers.
“Set ashore at Messana,” Vitas said. “I won’t be a problem for you off the ship.”
“So that not only do I fail to deliver you to Alexandria, but my crew thinks I’m too afraid of you to keep you on board?” Pavo snorted. “Why not ask me to tie lead weights to my ankles and jump into the sea?”
Pavo stood. Indeed, he was a large man.
Vitas stood too. Not quite as tall. Muscled, but without nearly the body weight.
“There’s another reason I told you about the Jew I drowned in pig’s blood,” Pavo said. “I now face a similar dilemma.”
Vitas stared back, barely inches away from Pavo’s face. He did not fear the silence that Pavo let fall upon them. He also did not break the silence like a rabbit bolting from cover in the presence of a hawk.
Long moments passed. Vitas did not expect Pavo to throw a punch or pull a knife. Though the tension between them was building, it was clear that Pavo needed to protect Vitas. Otherwise Vitas would still be floating in open seas. Yes, that had been the gamble Vitas took in his moment of calculated anger, leaping from the ship to rescue John. That if the captain had left Rome as he did, then Vitas was very valuable to him. Too valuable to let drown.
It was Pavo who broke the silence he had imposed. “If my crew now believes your authority is greater than mine or that I fear you, I lose my crew, my ship, and most certainly my life. Yet I must protect your life at all costs, or I lose my crew, my ship, and my life to those in Rome who put you aboard.” Pavo shrugged. “Either way, I lose everything.”
Vitas wanted badly to ask which men of Rome had put him on the ship. Where was that scroll?
“There will be a day,” Pavo said, “when you speak again with those who arranged for your escape. That is why I brought you down here to explain in privacy what must be done. Tell them that if I lost my ship to my crew, I would have been unable to deliver you to Alexandria. Tell them that there was only one way I could keep my crew and ensure you made it there.”
Pavo sighed. “I respect you. Even admire you. Your gamble that I would turn the ship around to pluck you from the sea was remarkable. But I must do what I must do. And you must allow it, because if I lose my authority on this ship, you, too, will die.”
Another sigh. “I promise, however, that if you don’t fight what must be done and make it appear like I am in full command, I will protect the Jew. I presume he is a valuable slave; otherwise you would not have risked your life to save him.”
“What is it that I must allow?”
“The whip,” Pavo said. “A minimum of ten lashes. From me. With all the crew gathered to watch.”
Hora Octava
Damian stood on the deck of a small riverboat, uncomfortable on water, as always, even if it was only the current of the Tiber taking him away from Rome. He and Jerome were the only passengers.
“Do you travel this river at night?” These were the first words Damian had spoken since boarding the boat, a question he addressed to the captain, a man named Volusius, who was a middle-aged, barrel-chested man with an obvious limp. Despite the limp, however, he moved efficiently, something Damian had silently observed as the man had made all preparations to cast from shore nearly an hour earlier.
“Perhaps you’ll want to take a nap,” Volusius
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