The Encircling Sea

XIX

THE TOWER WAS not a fortress. Centuries ago a chieftain had got his people to raise it on the tiny island so that his household could live there. It was difficult to approach, and its height reinforced the sense that here was the home of a man of importance. The walls were high and strong, but not designed for defence. There was no parapet or walkway on top, although now that they had knocked a hole in the roof someone could move around up there as long as they were careful. While there, they might just throw spears or rocks down at any attackers, for it was little more than a dozen feet from the closest part of the top wall to the mouth of the winding entrance tunnel. Without windows or slits of any sort, there was no way to do that from anywhere else. The narrow tunnel at least made it hard for anyone to force their way in.

‘Hard, but not impossible, given last night,’ Ovidius said.

‘They have the numbers. If they don’t mind losing plenty of men, they can keep attacking and in the end we will be worn down. A man can only fight for so long, even if he isn’t wounded. If they keep on coming and take the pain, they’ll win in the end.’

The poet looked older and smaller than ever.

‘But if they are smart, they won’t bother,’ Ferox went on. Ovidius had not needed to come, but now he was here he ought to know the truth. ‘What they should do is gather brushwood and anything else that will burn and pile it up at the entrance.’

Ovidius’ big forehead creased into a frown. ‘The stone won’t burn.’

‘No, but the smoke will come down this tunnel. This whole building is like a big chimney, especially now that there is a hole in the roof. It will suck the smoke in and we shall all choke.’

‘Oh,’ the old man sighed, and then shrugged. ‘I am sorry, but I cannot think of anything clever or brave to say at this point. Should we leave and try to hide somewhere else?’

‘It’s their island. They’ve been here for years, so ought to know every nook and cranny. From what Duco says, there is nowhere better than this.’

The former pirate had also said that his comrades had no archers. ‘The Harii fight at night, and they are the ones who lead us. They kill up close, terrifying a man so that he does not fight back. In the old days, a few of us made simple bows to go hunting,’ he conceded. ‘But there is nothing left to hunt.’

That offered them a chance. ‘We need to make it hard for them to get to the entrance,’ Ferox explained to the old man. ‘That means fighting out on the causeway.’ He had sent most of the men out to start work as soon as he had come down from the top of the tower.

The causeway was a little short of forty paces long. In the middle, he had them start to prise up stones. They would not be able to break it altogether, but the water was a good four foot deep at this point, which would make it hard for a man to wade around the side and still fight. One of the barrels in the storeroom was empty, the other half full of beer. Ferox ordered the drink poured out in buckets or bowls or anything else they could find, and in the end they put half of it into a trough meant for the animals. Then they rolled the barrels out so that they were behind the break in the causeway and they filled them with stones. That formed a solid base for a barricade. There were some empty sacks in another of the inner rooms, and they filled these with earth and laid them on top of the barrels. The stones ripped up from the causeway and any big bits of timber they could find were added until they had a wall at chest height. In front, they had taken a foot or so out of the causeway. It was not much of a ditch, but made the barricade even higher for anyone attacking it. They took any smaller branches, cutting them down and driving them as hard as they could into the earth and rubble of the ditch. Once they were in firmly, men worked to sharpen the tops into points. Ferox wished that he had thought to bring caltrops.

Sulpicia Lepidina stood at the entrance, watching the work and sucking in the night air with all the hunger of someone held prisoner for days. Ferox tried not to look at her, so busied himself with the work. They said that Roman soldiers liked a commander who mucked in with the men, sharing their rations and the hardships of campaign. For a mere centurion, with such a small force, there was no real choice, and sometimes it was simply easier to do a thing himself than explain it to others. Every few minutes he glanced up to the top of the tower, where Bran sat, legs dangling over the outer wall. Each time the boy waved to show that there was no sign of anyone coming.

The Harii may have spotted their ship and rowed out in boats to attack. Duco said that they had plenty of the little native craft, captured when they took the island or taken from fishermen. Yet if small boats had gone to the ship, surely they would have sailed it back to their harbour rather than burning it. It made more sense that the trireme was already here, back from the trip to Hibernia. They were fast ships and the pirates might have followed a different course and missed the worst of the storm that had struck them so hard. Cniva and his men had then seen their ship. Once again Ferox had to wonder why they had not captured it. The obvious answer was that they had burned it because they had learned about the party on shore. It was a message that there was no escape and no hope. That meant that the enemy was coming, and so they must work fast and keep a good lookout.

After a while the lady called to one of the Batavians and took him to a store of baskets in the tower, explaining that the grey- haired woman had told her about them. Once she learned that the attackers meant her no harm, the woman seemed glad to be free of her old masters and was making herself useful. Ferox had the baskets filled with stone and began another barricade just a pace or two in front of the entrance. This one was smaller, and would not cut across the entire causeway, because at some point the defenders of the first line would have to give way and they would need to retreat. They had plundered stone from the walls of the house without a roof and from the animal pens around the base of the main tower to help with the main barricade and now more was stripped away for the second. Ferox kept a couple of the baskets aside and had men selecting good round pieces suitable for throwing to take up to the top of the tower.

Ovidius appeared, greeting the lady warmly with a chaste kiss on each cheek. Ferox felt a flash of envy at even this slight contact.

‘I have assured the Lady Sulpicia that her family are all safe,’ he said, as Ferox walked over to them so that he could inspect the work from that side.

‘At least Marcus is too young to know what is happening,’ she said. ‘And it is some comfort that dear Claudia is there. She will be as kind to them as if they were her own.’

Ferox wondered whether the poet had told her about her husband.

‘I must pray that the prefect is safe,’ she went on, smiling as they murmured sympathy. ‘As pirates go, these have not been so cruel as captors as you might expect. I think they will have released him. There is purpose in all they do. This Cniva has a shrewd look about him, apart from when he flew into a rage. Then he was a monster. I can only hope the shrewd man prevailed and he has released my husband.’

‘We all hope that, lady,’ Ferox said, and meant it.

‘They were cruel only to the slaves.’ Sulpicia Lepidina gave a brittle smile. ‘A fault that is not confined to pirates and bandits. They used the girls hard – so hard that one died of the treatment and poor Aphrodite has suffered much. I have told her to eat and get some sleep. I hope that she can.’ Once again they both murmured their sympathy. Sulpicia Lepidina watched them expectantly, waiting for more. ‘I fear that you are hiding things from me,’ she said. ‘I am not a fool, and know that this rescue may prove temporary. How much hope do we have?’

Ovidius glanced sidelong at Ferox. ‘This is your field, not mine.’

‘We are alive and they no longer hold you,’ Ferox began. Her eyes studied him, daring him to insult her by hiding the truth. ‘It really depends on how soon Aelius Brocchus and the others arrive.’

Her head tilted slightly, her eyes showing approval of his candour. ‘And how long will that be?’

‘A day or two, perhaps.’ He shrugged. ‘In truth, it is hard to say. It depends on how soon the message reached them, and then on the vagaries of wind and sea. Their journey might take days or even weeks if everything goes wrong. We have to hold out for as long as we can.’

‘And if they do not come?’ There was just the slightest tremor in her voice.

‘We take as many of these mongrels with us as we can.’

Sulpicia Lepidina laughed, throwing her head back so that her hair shook. Men stopped their work and looked up in surprise. Then they all grinned, even the hulking and silent Falx.

‘Spoken like a true Roman,’ the lady said. ‘Thank you for your honesty. There may be one cause for encouragement, though. Throughout this ordeal they have treated young Genialis with something akin to reverence. I do not believe that they would willingly harm him.’ Ferox hoped that she was right. ‘Now, I shall see if there is anything I can do to help inside.’

‘My lady, I should be most grateful if you would take charge of our provisions.’

‘Hmm,’ she sniffed. ‘Even in battle a man expects a woman to run the household.’ She laughed again. ‘Of course, centurion, it will be my pleasure.’

After she had gone, Ovidius shook his head. ‘There are some rare people who make you feel as if you are so crude and vacuous, and yet make you love and admire them all the more at the same time.’

Ferox nodded. ‘I had better get back to work. Before long I’ll get half of them to eat and rest. We had better keep the rest awake for a while. Don’t want them to surprise us by turning up early.’

Longinus insisted on being one of the men who kept the first watch, and Ferox was glad because he knew that he could trust the former rebel. He had a couple of Batavians, along with Probus and Falx. Ferox wondered whether the merchant might try to take his son and slip away into the night, but decided that they had nowhere to go.

‘If you will take my advice, sir, you go and get some food and sleep,’ Longinus spoke in that tone ordinary soldiers reserved for giving orders to their superiors.

Ferox smiled. ‘I will,’ he said. ‘But first I want to look in all the odd corners of this place.’ He went inside, wondering why the tunnel now seemed a lot shorter than when they had charged into it. On the ground floor, Brigita was practising cuts and thrusts with a sword taken from one of the dead guards. Ferox realised that he had not given any orders about their corpses, but could see no sign of them, so hoped they had been taken out and dumped on the shore.

‘You use that blade well, noble lady,’ he said. ‘I am glad that you are safe.’

‘It could do with being heavier at the point.’ Her voice was matter-of-fact. ‘And the grip is clumsy, but otherwise it will serve.’ She sliced down as if slashing at an opponent’s chest and stomach. ‘I hear my husband is not high king.’

‘No, he is not.’

‘He would not have been a great king,’ she said in the same flat tone. ‘But I would have been a great queen.’

‘You are still young.’

Brigita spun around, jabbing with the blade and stopping it an inch from Ferox’s face. He did not react, and stared at her with mild interest.

‘I will fight with you when they come,’ she told him, and it was a moment before he realised that the words were in Latin. All the time she had understood what they were saying and hidden her knowledge, for her speech was clear and choice of words fairly good, apart from the small ambiguity, for it could be taken to mean that she would fight against him.

‘As you wish.’ Ferox did not relish the prospect of trying to stop her. ‘But I am leader here, and I must command.’

She withdrew the sword. ‘So be it.’

Ferox went past her to an alcove at the far end. It was covered by a blanket, so he pulled it aside and found what he was expecting. Stone stairs curved upwards inside a hollow in the great outer wall. It was dark, but not so dark that he could not see his way and the soft light was that of the night sky. He caught a hint of salt in the air, and realised that somewhere up ahead was an opening to the air. He followed the stairs, his feet echoing softly, the passageway curling around with the shape of the tower as it climbed. He came to where he thought he must be level with the first floor, wondering whether there was an entrance, but found only solid wall. It amazed him that anyone could make so huge a building without mortar, let alone the concrete that allowed the Romans to build so many miracles. For a few paces, the stairs became a level corridor, and he wondered whether the workmen had needed this while they were raising the tower. Once before, he had climbed a similar stair in another tower far away, and that had become smaller and smaller as it climbed higher, until a man could only go along it if he crawled. He pressed on, and there were more steps, but like that other tunnel the roof was getting lower. Ducking his head, Ferox climbed around another great curve. Up ahead the stair turned sharply and then stopped. A couple of paces ahead there was a solid wall apart from a narrow tube down which came faint starlight. He could go no further.

A footstep sounded faintly behind him. The sound was soft, on the edge of hearing, and if he had not stopped he probably would have missed it. Ferox turned, as slowly and gently as he could. There should not be any danger, for he could not believe that any of the defenders had survived, and he had certainly not passed anywhere where a man could hide. The steps came closer. They were slow, tentative, like someone who was nervous or trying to be silent. He waited, hand on the pugio in its scabbard, for in this confined space it would be hard to use a sword.

Whoever it was halted, breathing softly, waiting before taking another step. A dark shape came around the corner and he let go of the dagger’s hilt and grabbed it with both hands, pulling it to him. The person was short, soft hair against his chin.

Sulpicia Lepidina gasped and looked up. ‘Barbarian,’ she whispered, and then touched her finger to his lips. Her other arm curved around his waist. Ferox held her tightly, even though this meant pressing her against his mail cuirass. He leaned down and they kissed, her lips soft and yielding. ‘We are at the end of the world,’ she whispered. ‘Who can judge us here?’

Ferox kissed her again, and they spoke no more.