any.”
He shrugged. “You’re the one with the commission.” It was about as sincere a gesture of respect as I was likely to get from him.
I dispatched a sailor to Cleopatra’s ship
Serapis
with a message giving our destination. As soon as the last jar was loaded we pushed off and rowed to the harbor mouth. Once in clear water, all ships hoisted sail. The wind was favorable for getting us around the island of Cyprus, but after that we would probably have to row. That suited me well enough because the men needed exercise and I wouldn’t have to pull an oar myself.
Once we were under way, Ariston walked up to me. Since he was shipping as a marine he had no duties at the moment. Like many of the sailors, he had lowered his tunic from his shoulders and wore it knotted about his waist. From arsenal stores he had chosen a close-fitting iron cap and a small, round shield of hippopotamus hide as his sole military equipment. I could not guess how that last item had found its way into the arsenal at Paphos, since it must have originated in Nubia. For weaponry, he stuck with his big knife.
“That man I cut last night,” he began, “did they catch him?” “They did. Bled to death within the hour. The big blood vessel was severed.” I caught the look that crossed his face. “What’s wrong?”
“I said dead by morning, and that’s what I meant. I cut him here.” He drew a ragged-nailed finger from the bulging triceps on the back of his upper arm across the equally bulging biceps in front. “Cut him hard and all the way to the bone—I felt my blade scrape it—but no deeper than that. I’ve seen plenty of men die in battle and duels and brawls from arm cuts. That big bleeder’s on the inside of the arm, right next to the bone. I don’t think my blade could’ve touched it.”
“Well, well,” I said, “why does this fail to surprise me? Keep this to yourself, Ariston.”
“Whatever you say, Senator.”
“Why didn’t you draw armor and a better helmet? The men will take you for one of the sailors.”
He smiled crookedly. “Wear a bronze shell that’ll drag me straight to the waiting arms of Poseidon if I go overboard? Not buggering likely. If I have to swim for it, I want nothing on me I can’t get rid of before I hit the water.”
“At least a decent shield then,” I suggested.
“This is the best combination for a deck fight: a little shield and a dagger or short sword. Anything bigger just gets in the way.”
“You’ll want a bigger shield when we come under arrow fire,” I insisted, nettled by his confident expertise.
“Don’t you know how to avoid arrows in a fight?” he grinned. “How?”
“Just get behind someone else.”
I gave up. “You’re the pirate.” This made me remember why I’d hired him. “How do they fight when they take a ship?”
“I wouldn’t call it fighting. More like a sheep killing. But just in case, they’re ready for one. Tangling with a fighting crew like this, they’d start with a few arrows—not many good archers among them—then javelins when the ships are in range.”
“Will they grapple?”
“Not with us. They’ll be trying to get away, remember? No loot to be had on these ships, just a bunch of them killed if they win and the survivors crucified if they lose—no incentive to come to grips in that prospect. If they have to fight, most will be armed like me. If any wear armor, it’ll just be a piece of hide hung from the neck to cover the chest and belly, maybe a plain helmet that gives them plenty of air and vision, not the bronze buckets some of your marines wear. If we grapple them, they’ll try to board first, and they’ll fight like the Furies,” he made a gesture to avert the evil one may expect from speaking that dread word, “because that’s the only way they’ll come out of it alive.”
“And if we catch them on land?”
“For a shore raid they may use heavier weapons and armor. Some of them have fought in the armies
He shrugged. “You’re the one with the commission.” It was about as sincere a gesture of respect as I was likely to get from him.
I dispatched a sailor to Cleopatra’s ship
Serapis
with a message giving our destination. As soon as the last jar was loaded we pushed off and rowed to the harbor mouth. Once in clear water, all ships hoisted sail. The wind was favorable for getting us around the island of Cyprus, but after that we would probably have to row. That suited me well enough because the men needed exercise and I wouldn’t have to pull an oar myself.
Once we were under way, Ariston walked up to me. Since he was shipping as a marine he had no duties at the moment. Like many of the sailors, he had lowered his tunic from his shoulders and wore it knotted about his waist. From arsenal stores he had chosen a close-fitting iron cap and a small, round shield of hippopotamus hide as his sole military equipment. I could not guess how that last item had found its way into the arsenal at Paphos, since it must have originated in Nubia. For weaponry, he stuck with his big knife.
“That man I cut last night,” he began, “did they catch him?” “They did. Bled to death within the hour. The big blood vessel was severed.” I caught the look that crossed his face. “What’s wrong?”
“I said dead by morning, and that’s what I meant. I cut him here.” He drew a ragged-nailed finger from the bulging triceps on the back of his upper arm across the equally bulging biceps in front. “Cut him hard and all the way to the bone—I felt my blade scrape it—but no deeper than that. I’ve seen plenty of men die in battle and duels and brawls from arm cuts. That big bleeder’s on the inside of the arm, right next to the bone. I don’t think my blade could’ve touched it.”
“Well, well,” I said, “why does this fail to surprise me? Keep this to yourself, Ariston.”
“Whatever you say, Senator.”
“Why didn’t you draw armor and a better helmet? The men will take you for one of the sailors.”
He smiled crookedly. “Wear a bronze shell that’ll drag me straight to the waiting arms of Poseidon if I go overboard? Not buggering likely. If I have to swim for it, I want nothing on me I can’t get rid of before I hit the water.”
“At least a decent shield then,” I suggested.
“This is the best combination for a deck fight: a little shield and a dagger or short sword. Anything bigger just gets in the way.”
“You’ll want a bigger shield when we come under arrow fire,” I insisted, nettled by his confident expertise.
“Don’t you know how to avoid arrows in a fight?” he grinned. “How?”
“Just get behind someone else.”
I gave up. “You’re the pirate.” This made me remember why I’d hired him. “How do they fight when they take a ship?”
“I wouldn’t call it fighting. More like a sheep killing. But just in case, they’re ready for one. Tangling with a fighting crew like this, they’d start with a few arrows—not many good archers among them—then javelins when the ships are in range.”
“Will they grapple?”
“Not with us. They’ll be trying to get away, remember? No loot to be had on these ships, just a bunch of them killed if they win and the survivors crucified if they lose—no incentive to come to grips in that prospect. If they have to fight, most will be armed like me. If any wear armor, it’ll just be a piece of hide hung from the neck to cover the chest and belly, maybe a plain helmet that gives them plenty of air and vision, not the bronze buckets some of your marines wear. If we grapple them, they’ll try to board first, and they’ll fight like the Furies,” he made a gesture to avert the evil one may expect from speaking that dread word, “because that’s the only way they’ll come out of it alive.”
“And if we catch them on land?”
“For a shore raid they may use heavier weapons and armor. Some of them have fought in the armies
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