Hyperborea (Veteran of Rome Book 4), page 22
The black, ship’s cat lay stretched out in its usual spot, on the roof of the deck house beside him, and seemed to be asleep. The cat was half feral and despite its cute appearance, it had a vicious streak. Nothing seemed to scare it but woe to the man who tried to touch it, as Cunomoltus had discovered on the first day at sea, when he’d been bitten, whilst trying to stroke the animal. Only Calista seemed capable of touching it without incurring a bloody injury.
Marcus’s attention was drawn back to Alexandros and his wife. The log boat was leaving and its two occupants were paddling back towards the shore.
“Well?” Marcus cried out as he caught Alexandros’s eye.
The captain shrugged as he and Cora headed for the deck-house below Marcus’ feet.
“We are loading up with fresh water and some supplies, don’t worry I negotiated a good price; they say they will be back here before dark,” Alexandros replied. “And they don’t know anything about land to the north. They say that this is where the land ends and that north of here, there is only the ocean.”
“So we waste a whole day waiting here?” Marcus growled impatiently.
Alexandros halted and turned to look out to sea. “We could be here for several days,” he called out in a cheerful voice. “We are not going anywhere if this wind continues. A northern western wind is no good. We will never be able to leave these shores. We are going to have to wait until the wind direction changes. The wind must come from the south or east before we can set out into the unknown. And the wind doesn’t like to be hurried,” he added, as he broke out into a short, deep booming laugh.
Marcus grimaced as Alexandros and his wife disappeared from view. At the bow Calista and Jodoc, the young druid, were standing close together, staring at the log boat as it moved up and down through the waves. Jodoc and his father had been a model of cooperation and had caused no problems since they had come on board and had promptly followed up on every command and order Alexandros had given them. Marcus allowed himself a small shake of his head. Calista and Jodoc had surprised everyone. Despite Cora’s grim warning to them in the port of Londinium, not to touch her daughter, the two youngsters seemed to have formed a strong friendship, that was rapidly blossoming into romance, a romance that everyone on board could see, was real and powerful. Even Cora had decided not to intervene, although now and then Marcus had caught her muttering, that she had provisioned the ship for seven souls and not eight.
Looking bored, Marcus closed his eyes and rubbed his rugged, weather-beaten face as the wind tugged at his cloak. He opened his eyes as he heard someone clambering up the ladder towards him. It was Cunomoltus. His brother was clad in the same Paenula as he was wearing and the unhappiness and moodiness that he’d displayed on the first few days at sea had vanished. Catching sight of the ship’s cat, Cunomoltus’s face, however, darkened.
“Go on, fuck off, ugly beast,” he growled, gesturing at the cat with his hand, only to be rewarded with a deep throated, hissing, warning, whine from the cat.
“I see you are making friends,” Marcus said, as a little smile played at the corner of his mouth. “Alexandros says we must stay here until the wind changes. It could be a while.”
“I heard,” Cunomoltus muttered, as he came to stand beside Marcus. “So we wait.”
“We wait,” Marcus nodded.
For a while, the two of them were silent as they stared out across the choppy sea.
“Look at the birds,” Cunomoltus exclaimed at last in a calm voice, as he pointed at the formations of migrating birds flying overhead, “They are all heading north, out into the ocean. Those traders in their log boat may say there is no land to the north,” Cunomoltus added with a shrug, “but I think the birds may know something that we do not. Where to are they flying? It must mean that there is land out there, to the north.”
Marcus was staring up at the birds in the sky with a sudden, impressed look. Then he nodded in agreement.
“You have been spending a lot of time with the captain,” Marcus replied as he turned his back into the wind. “Everything alright?”
“I am learning about the sea and how the ship works,” Cunomoltus replied, as he too turned his back into the strong breeze. “It takes my mind off matters and its actually quite interesting. Alexandros knows what he is talking about.”
“He doesn’t secretly drink does he?” Marcus growled, glancing at his brother.
Cunomoltus shook his head. “No, I haven’t seen him touch a drop of wine since we left Londinium.”
Marcus grunted in approval. Cunomoltus had somehow managed to master his fear and transfer it into an intense, obsessive interest in anything to do with the sea and the ship. It was his way of keeping panic at bay. But he could also see that Alexandros was becoming a little fed up by the continuous stream of questions.
“You need to talk to Caradoc,” Cunomoltus said suddenly, turning to Marcus. “I overheard them talking the other day, him and his son. Caradoc has been across the ocean to the druid trading post before and I think he is planning something. There is going to be trouble.”
***
Caradoc was sitting cross-legged in the hold of the ship beside the mysterious iron box, as Marcus clambered down the ladder. The druid was humming to himself as he patiently scratched letters into a thin piece of wood, with an iron tipped stylus. He paused and looked up as Marcus approached.
“Alexandros says we must wait for the wind to change,” Marcus muttered, as he stared at the long lines of neat writing that covered the thin piece of wood on both sides.
“Then we wait,” Caradoc replied, turning back to his work.
“What are you doing?” Marcus said, as he folded his arms across his chest.
“It’s a diary, a report on our journey so far,” Caradoc replied, without looking up. “I write down what I see and what I hear.”
“I thought the druids wrote nothing down,” Marcus said sharply, “I thought you only passed on knowledge through oral communication.”
Caradoc paused in mid scratch. Then slowly, he looked up at Marcus.
“I don’t know anything about the druids,” Caradoc replied, with a sudden glint in his eye, “other than what they did to captured Roman soldiers. It must have been terrible for those legionaries and Batavians to have their hearts ripped from their bodies, whilst they were still alive, but that is what happens when you take away another man’s land.”
Marcus’ face darkened. Slowly he took a step towards Caradoc. “There is no point in trying to hide who you are,” Marcus growled. “I know who you are and I also know that you have been to the trading post across the ocean.”
Caradoc shrugged and a little, cold smile appeared on his lips.
“And I know who you are Batavian, veteran of Rome,” Caradoc replied in a steel tinted voice, “But my son and I have done nothing to offend anyone on this ship. We just want the same thing that you want, to cross the sea, alive.”
“How large is this trading post, tell me what you know about it?” Marcus said.
Caradoc looked down at the wooden keel, as the ship creaked, groaned and rolled in the waves.
“It’s a small community, only a dozen or so druids,” he replied. “They live with the Hyperborean’s in their tents and some have learned to speak the native language. They trade high quality iron weapons, tools and wine for gold and silver, which the Hyperborean’s have in abundance.”
“How come I have not heard about this place before” Marcus said quickly. “No one seems to know about this trading post. Hyperborea itself is more a myth than real.”
Caradoc smiled.
“The druids keep the existence and location of the trading post a secret, only known to them and it is only their ships, sailing from the forbidden islands on the western coast of Hibernia, that make the journey.” Caradoc sighed. “We would have gone with them but there is trouble amongst the tribes in Hibernia and the route is closed for the moment. So we came to Londinium in search of a ship.”
“So how come you know about this place?” Marcus snapped. “How come you have been there, if only the druids know about it?”
Caradoc stopped abruptly as he realised that he had walked into a trap. For a moment, he said nothing, staring at the floor. Then he looked up and smiled again.
“The druids need men to crew their trading ships,” he replied in a calm voice, “I was a sailor on one of these ships, that’s how I came to cross the ocean.”
“Well that’s strange,” Marcus growled, “for when Alexandros brought you onboard he said he didn’t think you were sailors and he should know. You also have not asked for any payment or reward to make this crossing, which makes me suspicious. You do not look like a sailor. You didn’t even know how to adjust the sails.”
Caradoc smiled in embarrassment, shrugged and remained silent.
Marcus eyes narrowed angrily. Then abruptly he looked away. “In Londinium,” he said sharply, “I only learned about the druids who lived in Hyperborea from a criminal who controlled the Reds, the gangs in the docks. He told me that there is much gold and silver in Hyperborea. He told me the druids have mountains of the stuff just waiting to be collected. That is why I am making this journey. We are going to cross the ocean to make ourselves filthy rich.”
“I see,” Caradoc frowned as his face darkened, “So Meryn told you that? You should know that Meryn was my friend and now he is dead, murdered by you and those scumbag Batavians. Oh, I know it was you. I saw what you did to the men inside the Gay Crab. Presumably you killed him to cover your tracks or is that just who you are, a killer?”
“He was your friend?” Marcus shot back.
“He was,” Caradoc replied angrily, “I knew him well, but you won’t find mountains of gold and silver in Hyperborea.”
Marcus remained silent, as he turned to look away and sought to calm himself. The druids were annoying and hostile but he still needed them.
“Tell me what you know about the Hyperboreans?” he said at last, in a calmer voice. “Are they like us? Will we receive a warm welcome or will they try and kill us?”
Caradoc paused, as he too struggled to calm himself and contain his hostility.
“They are different,” he said at last in a quiet voice. “They are more primitive. They do not have permanent homes, coins, roads or even horses and their ships are no more sophisticated than hollowed out tree trunks. They live in simple, wooden tents and hunt in the forests, lakes and rivers, which cover the whole land. They move about in small family groups from one camp to the next when the seasons change and they are split into hundreds and hundreds of different tribes, many which are constantly at war with each other.”
Marcus remained silent as he stared down at the keel of the ship and digested what Caradoc had just said. Then slowly, he raised his head and fixed his eyes on the druid with a crafty look.
“So as you knew Meryn well,” he said in a quiet thoughtful voice, “you must have known his wife, Emogene?”
Caradoc said nothing, as he stared at Marcus with a stupid expression and his mouth opened just slightly, but in his eyes, Marcus thought he glimpsed a brief look of recognition.
“I know of her,” Caradoc muttered uneasily, “Emogene, is a druid. She went mad and left Meryn and his children. She crossed the ocean to the place where we are going to now. She has been there for some years.”
“So you know Emogene?” Marcus said silkily. “You can recognise her. She knows you.”
Caradoc looked Marcus straight in the eye with growing surprise and in that single moment, Marcus realised that the druid knew far more than he was telling him.
Caradoc’s surprise turned to alarm.
“You are not making this journey for the gold and silver are you?” he exclaimed in growing alarm. “You tricked me. What do you really want? Why are you really making this voyage?”
Marcus stared at him and smiled.
“You are not interested in gold or silver, you are not even interested in Hyperborea,” Caradoc growled, as his eyes widened in growing alarm. “You are going after Emogene. That is what this is all about, but why? What do you want from her?”
Marcus shrugged. “That’s my business,” he retorted.
***
Marcus was asleep on the hard wooden floor of the hold when a hand shook him. Instantly he was awake, a knife gleaming in his hand. Alexandros was standing over him, his face grim.
“The wind has changed,” the captain growled, glancing at the knife with a worried look. “We should take advantage. It’s time to head northwest into the unknown.”
Chapter Thirty-Two – The Endless Sea
The Hermes groaned and creaked as the little ship pitched, rose and rolled through the waves and the swelling sea, sending very cold, salty spray flying across the deserted deck. It was night, the noise of the slapping waves striking the hull and the moan of the wind had deadened, and dulled Marcus’ hearing. The others were down below in the hold, sleeping and resting whilst he stood beside Alexandros on the roof of the deckhouse as the captain held the tiller, steering the ship on a northwesterly course. The two men were silent, as in the dim, reddish light of the ships oil lantern; they stoically peered into the darkness beyond the rising and plunging bow. For two days they had followed the formations of migrating birds, and the southerly wind had blown them northwards and for two days and nights they had seen nothing but the endless grey and cold sea. They had however, made good progress, and Marcus had been humbled, by the vastness and raw power of the sea and the sheer enormity of the voyage he had decided to undertake. After their first day and night out of sight of land, Cunomoltus, despite his attempts to manage his fear, had panicked and Marcus and Alexandros, had been forced to tie him up in the hold until he came to his senses.
Above the mast and the taught, bulging, square sail, the stars lit up the night sky in a beautiful mosaic of tiny twinkling pinpoints of light. Marcus glanced across at Alexandros and noticed that the captain too, was staring up at the night sky.
“Is this how you navigate at night?” Marcus said as he adjusted the hood of his Paenula cloak. “You look at the stars?”
Alexandros nodded, as he looked up at the night sky. “We are lucky,” he growled, “That we have a clear night so that we can follow the old Dog. Look, over there,” Alexandros said, pointing at the constellation of Ursa Minor. “Cynosura burns brightly and the Dog will show us the way to the north, as she always does.”
Marcus said nothing as he stared at the little bear in the night sky.
“Praise the seven stars of Cynosura, which vie with each other for true north and under whose guidance, the ships of Greece set sail across the seas,” Alexandros muttered.
“How do you know which way is north?” Marcus replied.
Alexandros grunted and pointed at Ursa Minor. “Look, there, the brightest star, that is Polaris, the dog’s tail. Now look at the Kochab and Pherkad. They are not as bright, but the twins circle the pole and, if we keep the ship’s bow aimed at a spot between those two stars, then we can be certain that we are heading north.”
Marcus nodded as he steadied himself on the moving deck and stared at the stars.
“How do we know how far we have come?” he exclaimed.
“Well there are no maps or charts for these waters. Some sailors will use an astrolabe. I like to use my fingers,” Alexandros said gruffly. “It’s quite simple. Take a specific hour. Stretch out your arm, squint, line up the sun and the horizon and then count how many fingers there are between the horizon and the sun. One finger less than before and you know that you are seventy miles or so closer to true north since your last measurement.”
“So how far have we come?”
Alexandros shrugged, “Hard to say exactly, the movement of the ship makes it harder to take the measurement than if you were on land, and there is a powerful current which has been pushing us to north east, but I think we must have come north a hundred and fifty miles or so. The gods seem to favour us, for this wind is just what we need. Let’s hope it lasts.”
“And what happens when the skies are overcast?” Marcus said.
“Most sailors would be screwed,” Alexandros growled with sudden pride, “That’s why most don’t like to sail beyond sight of land, but I am no ordinary captain. I have a couple of tricks that we can use if we cannot see the sun or the stars. Do not worry, Marcus, you hired the finest sea captain in the civilised world. They are going to be telling stories about us for hundreds of years to come when we get back.”
“Let’s hope so,” Marcus replied.
For a while, the two men were silent as the Hermes ploughed on, up and down through the darkness and the cold, endless swelling waves smacked and surged past the side of the hull to vanish into the darkness.
