Fire in the East by Harry Sidebottom Read Free Book Online Page B

fight. He was good at violence, and he knew it. If he had stayed at home and had managed to stay alive, he would have gained these things in the retinue of a local Hibernian king. Here, serving as Ballista’s bodyguard, he got all of them, with wine as well as beer, and a greater range of women. And then, there was no question of freedom until he had paid off his obligation to Ballista. It often played through his mind: his hobnails slipping on the marble floor (never wear those bastards again), his sword knocked out of reach as he fell (always have a wrist loop of leather on the pommel), the fierce brown face, the sword arm lifted for the killing blow, and the cut with which Ballista had severed that arm.
    When he was young and had travelled nowhere, his endless talk had won him the name Muirtagh of the Long Road. Now the name fitted the truth, only Ballista ever called him that, and then only occasionally.
    He was happy enough where he was. Sure, he would like to go back home one day, but only once, and then not for long - just long enough to kill the men who had enslaved him, rape their women and burn down their homes.
     
    The cruise of the Concordia had run as smoothly as the water out of a clock in court. All was warm early October sunshine and gentle breezes for the two days it took to sail from Delos to Cnidus; first east to the island of Ikaros, then south-east down the Sporades chain between the puritans of the island of Kos and the decadents of the mainland of Asia Minor and, finally, to peninsular Cnidus. Here they had stopped for a day to take on water and to inspect the semen-stained thighs of the statue of Aphrodite of Cnidus.
    On the morning they pulled out of Cnidus a sea mist had settled. The captain said that they were not that uncommon in these waters of the southern Aegean; not usually as bad as this, but there was some sort of fret at least half the year. With visibility down to under two miles he set a course along the south coast from Cnidus to Cape Onougnathos, then striking out south-east for the north coast of the island of Syme. An anchored merchantman indicated proximity to Syme. The Concordia slid by and shaped to make for Rhodes.
    ‘Two sails. Directly ahead. Pirates. Goths!’
    There was pandemonium on the deck of the Concordia until the captain bellowed for silence. As the hubbub subsided, he ordered everyone to sit down. Ballista walked with the captain to the prow. There they were, emerging from the sea mist about two miles ahead. There was no mistaking the shape of the vessels, the distinctive double-ended outline, as both fore and aft seemed to sweep up into a prow. One central mast, one steering oar over the starboard quarter, lots of shields hung along the sides. The two Goth craft were each about two-thirds the length of the Concordia but, with only one level of rowers, they were considerably lower in the water.
    ‘ Judging by the length of them, there should be about fifty of the bastards in each,’ said the captain. ‘Of course, you would know all about them.’
    Ballista ignored the implicit gibe at his barbarian origins. He did know a lot about them. They were Borani, a German people within the loose confederation known as the Goths. All such Gothic pirates in these waters were Borani. In recent years, more and more of them had slipped out of the innumerable harbours and creeks of the Black Sea, run down through the Bosphorus and taken to plundering the coasts and islands of the Aegean. These two ships had taken up a good station on a well-used shipping route between the Diabetai islets and the island of Syme.
    ‘Permission to clear for action, Dominus ? ’
    ‘Carry on. There is no need to run every order through me. You are the captain of this ship. My bodyguard and myself will just add numbers to your marines and put ourselves at the disposal of your optio, your second-in-command.’
    ‘Thank you, Dominus.’ The Captain turned away, then back. ‘Would you order as many