A Mixture of Madness, Book II of The Bow - By Levkoff, Andrew Page 0,117
I would have been.”
I closed my eyes and shook my head and grimaced, preparing myself by repeating that she was here now, safe beside me. “Go on.”
“Broken oars moved back and forth upon the rolling sea like a child’s game of sticks. When a foaming crest broke, it would send them skidding down the wave wall like tiny spears. Every now and then a sea lion would raise its shiny head and stare at the mess we humans had made upon their waters. They were one with the rolling waves—their whiskered heads would suddenly appear, as if the sea had eyes; in the next moment they’d be gone. When they looked at me, and they did—right at me—the flames danced in their black eyes. I couldn’t tell if they were curious or sad because they could not help us.
“The bigger pieces of the ships that were still afloat and not aflame were crowded with men and women. Those frantic people had lost their minds; not just those who kicked and jabbed to keep the rest away, but the ones who tried to clamber aboard and join them. When the decking went under, as it must, they clawed at each other and brought their own ends down upon themselves even faster. I turned away.
“The biggest piece of wreckage still afloat was our trireme, more than half the ship. But it was on fire at the prow. There were seven or eight soldiers, our captain among them, their backs to the flames, swords drawn. They were keeping everyone else off the ship. Anyone who tried to climb up onto the wreck was knocked back into the water!”
“Why?!”
“They were protecting the fire. The captain wanted the ship to burn, but those in the water wanted to cling to it. Naturally.”
“What happened?”
“About a dozen men with lengths of oars climbed aboard and tried to rush them. One of the captain’s men went down, but the others were all killed. The ones who wanted to put out the flames jumped back into the sea when they saw their brothers slain. The captain was furious. The storm was letting up by then. He ran out into the middle of what was left of the ship—by then there wasn’t much—and yelled that he’d kill any man who so much as spit on the fire. But that was later.”
“What was the name of that trierarch, do you remember?”
“I don’t. I’m sorry.”
“I hope he lived. He is surely another reason why you sit beside me today.” Livia tilted her head. “The smoke from the flames, rising in the dawn. He knew it was a beacon, the only way a rescue party could find the survivors. And keeping people off the wreck might keep it afloat just long enough to save the rest.”
“It seems heartless and cruel.”
“It was, by one rod. By another, it saved lives. The captain had to have believed it was his only choice. But heartless and cruel, vulpecula, either way. What did you mean by ‘later’?”
“I’d been floating for almost an hour when the fight on Circe took place. Before, when I first burst to the surface and filled my lungs, through my stinging eyes I saw a legionary clinging to a narrow bit of decking, no more than ten feet long and half as wide. A piece of railing opposite to where he clung made the scrap resemble nothing so much as a large child’s boat. His head lay upon his crossed arms. He was balding at the back of his head and it made me think of you. A large wave rolled down upon us and suddenly he jerked upward, throwing his arms in the air. I saw the ‘o’ of his mouth and the stubble on his chin. His eyes blinked as the rain pelted his upturned face. The wave pushed the scrap of decking past me and I grabbed at it and managed to catch the railing. I couldn’t believe that soldier would relinquish his hold on the raft. I shouted out to him. For a moment I couldn’t see him as the swell passed, then an oar rolled up into the air. It was embedded in the poor man’s back like a mast. He floated past me face down.”
“Livia…” What a useless thing to say. But we have to try, don’t we? To attempt to console, though we know that consolation lies not within our power, but in Time’s alone. We make noises of comfort, but when even we are not