Read Online Island of Ghosts by Gillian Bradshaw - Free Book Online
Authors: Gillian Bradshaw
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victory comes after the two deaths. I think, my prince, that the deaths must be read as warnings. If you avoid death by water and fire, you will win a victory.”
“In other words, don’t go swimming, and be careful when you light a fire,” said Arshak, grinning. “Good advice at any time, but you hardly need the divining rods to tell you that.”
Still, the omens had promised good fortune to every company, and when we followed the ceremony with a feast (courtesy of the procurator of the British fleet), the men were inclined to look on the bright side, especially after the wine started flowing. There was no resistance next day when the time came to board the ships.
But even without resistance, it was hard work. Fifteen hundred men and nearly four times that number of horses had to be loaded onto transports. The transports were larger, sturdier, and slower ships than the fast bireme, but only three of them were suitable for carrying more than a handful of horses at a time. The horses had all been on boats before, to cross the Danube—but many still had to be blindfolded to get them aboard, and their owners had to go with them to soothe them on the voyage and prevent them from harming themselves when the ships rolled. Since most of the men had three horses and we also had extra horses for the wagons, it meant that some men had to make two trips to cope with all the animals. Then, of course, there were questions of precedence. Put two Sarmatian nobles in front of a gate and they’ll spend all day arguing over who goes through first—and we had fifteen hundred Sarmatian nobles in front of three horse transports. It helped that our companies had had their order of march established long ago. Arshak’s company was called the second dragon, because his dragon standard followed second behind that of the king; Gatalas led the fourth dragon, and I commanded the sixth: Arshak’s company thus went first, Gatalas’second, and mine last. But each commander needed to stand on the dock the whole time his dragon was embarking, to give each squadron, and each man in the squadron, his proper place.
Then there was a problem with the wagons: the Roman sailors saw no reason to transport these at all. Why couldn’t we live in tents and barracks, like their own soldiers? they asked. I had to insist and threaten, coax and cajole them about it for some time, and when they at last gave in, it was as much from exasperation with the wagons clogging the shipyard where they were as from any desire to help us shift them.
Then there were more problems, with supplies.
My fellow princes remained proudly aloof from the Romans and left all the insisting and cajoling to me. I became, as I’d feared, the reasonable one, the one the Romans could work with. The procurator Natalis turned to me to say which troops went when, and asked my advice about how to secure the wagons or restrain nervous horses. I disliked the position, but could not shrug it off, and the more I cooperated, the more they turned to me.
Halfway through the first day of the transportation, Natalis came down to the ships while they were being loaded, carrying a set of wax tablets.
“There you are, Ariantes,” he said, and offered me the tablets. “I’m trying to get a week’s supplies for your people together for you in Dubris, and I’ve drawn up a list of what we think you might need. Can you just look it over and correct it if there’s anything you don’t need?”
I stared at the tablets, not touching them. “I cannot read,” I told him.
“Oh,” he said, pulling the tablets back. “No, of course you can’t. I don’t have time to go over them with you. I’ll find you a scribe.” And he went back to his headquarters.
About an hour later, a man of about forty, small, dark, and weary, trotted up with the tablets. “You are Lord Ariantes?” he asked me, and when I nodded, he went on, “I am Eukairios, a slave in the office of the procurator. Lord Valerius
“In other words, don’t go swimming, and be careful when you light a fire,” said Arshak, grinning. “Good advice at any time, but you hardly need the divining rods to tell you that.”
Still, the omens had promised good fortune to every company, and when we followed the ceremony with a feast (courtesy of the procurator of the British fleet), the men were inclined to look on the bright side, especially after the wine started flowing. There was no resistance next day when the time came to board the ships.
But even without resistance, it was hard work. Fifteen hundred men and nearly four times that number of horses had to be loaded onto transports. The transports were larger, sturdier, and slower ships than the fast bireme, but only three of them were suitable for carrying more than a handful of horses at a time. The horses had all been on boats before, to cross the Danube—but many still had to be blindfolded to get them aboard, and their owners had to go with them to soothe them on the voyage and prevent them from harming themselves when the ships rolled. Since most of the men had three horses and we also had extra horses for the wagons, it meant that some men had to make two trips to cope with all the animals. Then, of course, there were questions of precedence. Put two Sarmatian nobles in front of a gate and they’ll spend all day arguing over who goes through first—and we had fifteen hundred Sarmatian nobles in front of three horse transports. It helped that our companies had had their order of march established long ago. Arshak’s company was called the second dragon, because his dragon standard followed second behind that of the king; Gatalas led the fourth dragon, and I commanded the sixth: Arshak’s company thus went first, Gatalas’second, and mine last. But each commander needed to stand on the dock the whole time his dragon was embarking, to give each squadron, and each man in the squadron, his proper place.
Then there was a problem with the wagons: the Roman sailors saw no reason to transport these at all. Why couldn’t we live in tents and barracks, like their own soldiers? they asked. I had to insist and threaten, coax and cajole them about it for some time, and when they at last gave in, it was as much from exasperation with the wagons clogging the shipyard where they were as from any desire to help us shift them.
Then there were more problems, with supplies.
My fellow princes remained proudly aloof from the Romans and left all the insisting and cajoling to me. I became, as I’d feared, the reasonable one, the one the Romans could work with. The procurator Natalis turned to me to say which troops went when, and asked my advice about how to secure the wagons or restrain nervous horses. I disliked the position, but could not shrug it off, and the more I cooperated, the more they turned to me.
Halfway through the first day of the transportation, Natalis came down to the ships while they were being loaded, carrying a set of wax tablets.
“There you are, Ariantes,” he said, and offered me the tablets. “I’m trying to get a week’s supplies for your people together for you in Dubris, and I’ve drawn up a list of what we think you might need. Can you just look it over and correct it if there’s anything you don’t need?”
I stared at the tablets, not touching them. “I cannot read,” I told him.
“Oh,” he said, pulling the tablets back. “No, of course you can’t. I don’t have time to go over them with you. I’ll find you a scribe.” And he went back to his headquarters.
About an hour later, a man of about forty, small, dark, and weary, trotted up with the tablets. “You are Lord Ariantes?” he asked me, and when I nodded, he went on, “I am Eukairios, a slave in the office of the procurator. Lord Valerius
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