Marcus looked disconcerted. ‘Oh, I didn't mean one of you, of course. I meant the boy Peppis. He's not on the crew lists. I checked, so I thought he might be available for sale. I need a boy to carry my sword and …’
‘I've seen you on the decks,’ the first mate rumbled from deep in his chest. ‘You were making angry faces when we were giving him his lessons. I reckon you're one of those soft city lads who thinks we're too hard on the ship boys. Either that or you want him in your bed. Which is it?’
Marcus smiled slowly, revealing his teeth.
‘Oh dear. That sounds like an insult, my friend. You'd better let that rudder go, so I can give you a lesson myself.’
The first mate opened his mouth to retort and Marcus hit it. For a while, the Lucidae wandered off course over the dark sea.
Renius woke him by shaking him roughly.
‘Wake up! The captain wants to see you.’
Marcus groaned. His face and upper body were a mass of heavy bruises. Renius whistled softly as he stood up and, wincing, began to dress. Using his tongue, he found a loose tooth and pulled out the water pot under his bed to spit bloody phlegm into it.
With the part of his mind that was active, he was pleased to notice that Renius was wearing his iron breastplate and had his sword strapped on. The stump of his arm was bound with clean bandages and the depression that had kept him in his cabin for the first weeks seemed to have disappeared. When Marcus had pulled on his tunic and wrapped a cloak against the cold morning breeze, Renius held the door open.
‘Someone beat the first mate into the ground last night, and another man with him,’ Renius said, cheerfully.
Marcus put his hand up to his face and felt a ridge of split skin on his cheek.
‘Did he say who did it?’ he muttered.
‘He says he was jumped from behind, in the dark. He has a broken shoulder, you know.’ Renius had definitely lost his depression, but Marcus decided that the new, chuckling Renius was not really an improvement.
The captain was a Greek named Epides. He was a short, energetic man with a beard that looked as if it was pasted on, without a troublesome hair out of place on his face. He stood up as Marcus and Renius entered and rested his hands on his desk, which was held to the floor against the rocking of the ship with heavy iron manacles. Each finger had a valuable stone set into gold on it and they glittered with every movement. The rest of the room was simple, as befitted a working trader. There was no luxury and nowhere to look but the man himself, who glared at both of them.
‘Let's not try the protestations of innocence,’ he said. ‘My first mate has a broken shoulder and collarbone and you did it.’
Marcus tried to speak, but the captain interrupted.
‘He won't identify you, Zeus himself knows why. If he did, I'd have you flogged raw on the decks. As it is, you will take up his duties for the remainder of this trip and I will be sending a letter to your legion commander about the sort of ill-disciplined lout he is taking on. You are hereby signed on as crew for this voyage, as is my right as captain of Lucidae. If I discover you are shirking your duties in any way, I will flog you. Do you understand?’
Marcus again began to answer, but this time Renius stopped him, speaking quietly and reasonably.
‘Captain. When the lad accepted his position in the Fourth Macedonia, he became, from that moment, a member of that legion. As you are in a difficult position, he will volunteer to replace the first mate until we make land in Greece. However, it will be I who makes sure he does not shirk his duties. If he is flogged by your order, I will come up here and rip your heart out. Do we understand each other?’ His voice remained calm, almost friendly, right to the end.
Epides paled slightly and raised a hand to smooth his beard in a nervous gesture.
‘Just make sure he does the job. Now get out and report to the second mate for work.’
Renius looked at him for a long moment and then nodded slowly, turning to the door and allowing Marcus to walk through first before following.
Left alone, Epides sank into his chair and dipped a hand into a bowl of rosewater, dabbing it onto his neck. Then he composed himself and smiled grimly as he gathered his writing materials. For a while, he mused over the clever, sharp retorts he should have made. Threatened by Renius, by all the gods! When he returned home, the story he would tell would include the blistering ripostes, but, at the actual moment, something naked and violent in the man's eyes had stopped his mouth.
The second mate was a dour man from northern Italy called Parus. He said very little as Marcus and Renius reported to him, just outlined the daily tasks for a first mate of a trader, ending with the stint on the rudder at around midnight.
‘Won't seem right, calling you first mate, with him still below decks.’
‘I'll be doing his job for him. You'll call me by his name while I'm doing it,’ Marcus replied.
The man stiffened. ‘What are you, sixteen? The men won't like it either,’ he said.
‘Seventeen,’ Marcus lied smoothly. ‘The men will get used to it. Maybe we'd better see them now.’
‘Have you sailed before?’ Parus asked.
‘First trip, but you tell me what needs doing and I'll get it done. All right?’
Puffing out his cheeks in obvious disgust, Parus nodded. ‘I'll get the men on deck.’
‘I'll get the men on deck, First Mate,’ Marcus said clearly through his swollen lips. His eyes glinted dangerously and Parus wondered how he'd beaten Firstmate in a fight and why the man wouldn't identify him to the captain when any fool could see who it had been.
‘First Mate,’ he agreed sullenly and left them.
Marcus turned to Renius, who was looking askance at him.
‘What are you thinking?’ Marcus asked.
‘I'm thinking you'd better watch your back, or you won't ever see Greece,’ Renius replied seriously.
All the crew who weren't actively working gathered on the small deck. Marcus counted fifteen sailors, with another five on the rudders and sail rigging around.
Parus cleared his throat for their attention.
‘Since Firstmate's arm is broken, the captain says the job belongs to this one for the rest of the trip. Get back to work.’
The men turned to go and Marcus took a step forward, furious.
‘Stay where you are,’ he bellowed, surprising himself with the strength of his voice. He had their attention for a moment and he didn't intend to waste it.
‘Now you all know I broke Firstmate's arm, so I'm not going to deny it. We had a difference of opinion and we fought over it, that's the end of the story. I don't know why he hasn't told the captain who it was, but I respect him a bit more for it. I'll do his job as best I'm able, but I'm no sailor and you know that too. You work with me and I won't mind if you tell me when I'm wrong. But if you tell me I'm wrong, you'd better be right. Fair enough?’
There was a mutter from the assembled men.
‘If you're no sailor, you ain't going to know what you're doing. What use is a farmer on a trade ship?’ called a heavily tattooed sailor. He was sneering and Marcus responded quickly, colouring in anger.
‘First thing is for me to walk the ship and speak to each one of you. You tell me exactly what your job is and I'll do it. If I can't do it, I'll go back to the captain and tell him I'm not up to the job. Anyone object?’
There was silence. A few of them looked interested at the challenge, but most faces were bluntly hostile. Marcus clenched his jaw and felt the loose