out, Peppis, I know you’re in there,’ he called. He heard a sniff. ‘I wouldn’t have hit you with the knife, it was just a joke. Honestly.’
Slowly, a skeletal little boy emerged from behind some sacking. He was filthy almost beyond belief and his eyes were wide with fear.
‘I was just watching you,’ Peppis said, nervously.
Marcus looked more closely at him, noticing a small crust of dried blood under his nose and a purple bruise over one eye.
‘Have the men been beating you again?’ he said, trying to make his voice friendly.
‘A little, but it was my fault. I tripped on a rope and pulled a knot undone. I didn’t mean to but Firstmate said he would teach me to be clumsy. I’m already clumsy, though, so I said I didn’t need no teaching and then he knocked me about.’ He sniffed again and wiped his nose with the back of his hand, leaving a silvery trail.
‘Why don’t you run away at a port?’ Marcus asked.
Peppis puffed his chest out as far as it would go, revealing his ribs like white sticks under his skin.
‘Not me. I’m going to be a sailor when I’m older. I’m learning all the time, just by watching the men. I can tie ever so many knots now. I could have retied that rope today if Firstmate woulda let me, but he didn’t know that.’
‘Do you want me to have a word with the … first mate? Tell him to stop the beatings?’
Peppis turned even paler and shook his head. ‘He’d kill me if you do, maybe this trip or maybe on the way back. He’s always saying if I can’t learn to be a sailor, he’ll put me over the side some night when I’m sleeping. That’s why I don’t sleep in my bunk, but out here on the decks. I move around a lot so he won’t know where to find me if he thinks it’s time.’
Marcus sighed. He felt sorry for the little boy, but there was no simple answer to his problems. Even if the first mate were quietly put over the side himself, Peppis would be tortured by the others. They all took part and the first time Marcus had mentioned it to Renius, the old gladiator had laughed and said there was one like him on every ship of the sea. Even so, it galled Marcus to have the boy hurt. He had never forgotten what it was like to be at the mercy of bullies like Suetonius and he knew that if he had built the wolf trap, and not Gaius, he would have dropped rocks in and crushed the older boy. He sighed again and stood up, stretching tired muscles.
Where would he have ended up if Gaius’ parents hadn’t looked after him and brought him up? He could very easily have stowed away on a trade ship and have been in just the sort of horrible position Peppis found himself. He would never have been trained to fight or defend himself and lack of food would have made him weak and sickly.
‘Look,’ he said, ‘if you won’t let me help you with the sailors, at least let me share my food with you. I don’t eat much anyway and I’ve been sending some of it back, especially in rough water. All right? You stay there and I’ll bring you something.’
Peppis nodded silently and, a little cheered, Marcus went below decks to his cramped cabin to fetch the cheese and bread left for him earlier. In truth, he was hungry, but he could go without and the little boy was practically starved to death.
Leaving Peppis to chew on the food, Marcus wandered back to the steering oars, knowing that the first mate took a turn about midnight. Like Peppis, he’d never heard the man’s real name. Everyone called him by his station and he seemed to do his job well enough, keeping the crew in line with a hard hand. The little ship Lucidae had a reputation for honest dealing too, with very little of the cargo ever going missing on voyages. Other ships had to write off such small losses to keep their crews happy, but not the owners of the Lucidae.
Marcus brightened as he saw the man had already taken his place, holding one of the two great rudders steady against the currents and chatting in a low voice to his partner on the other.
‘A fine evening,’ he said, as he came close.
Firstmate grunted and nodded. He had to be polite to paying passengers, but bare civility was all he would offer. He was a powerfully built man and held the rudder with only one arm, while his companion threw his weight and both shoulders into the task of holding his steady. The other man said nothing and Marcus recognised him as one of the crew, tall and long-armed with a shaven skull. He gazed steadfastly ahead, engrossed in his task and the feel of the wood in his hands.
‘I’d like to buy one of the crew as a slave. Who should I talk to?’ Marcus said, keeping his voice amiable.
Firstmate blinked in surprise, and two gazes rested on the young Roman.
‘We’re free men,’ the other said, his voice showing his distaste.
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
