Hope of Earth (37 page)

At last they stroked back to port. The men were given leave to disembark, but the helmsman spoke briefly to Jes. “Wait.” So she waited, hoping she was not in trouble. She had made several mistakes, but surely they allowed for that, on the first day out. She hoped. She watched the men file past the ship’s purser, who gave each a small coin: the day’s half-pay.

After a time the captain came down. “I am told you lack experience, but play well.” Actually he had heard her himself, but was going through channels, taking the helmsman’s report.

“I missed several signals, sir,” she confessed, embarrassed. Was he going to fire her?

“You have an excellent sense of the ship. Have you had other experience?”

“None on a trieres. I have rowed my own little boat all my life. I like the sea.”

“That explains it,” Ittai said. “Your position is confirmed. Go to the purser.”

Relief flooded through her. She had not realized how worried she had been, until that acceptance came. “Thank you, sir.”

“I feared I would have to settle for incompetence,” he said gruffly. “In that I was disappointed.” He walked away.

She got up and went to where the purser sat. He glanced up at her. “Name and post?” Of course he already knew her post, but was also following the forms. That was the way of a well run ship.

“Jes. Pipeman.”

He handed her three silver coins.

She looked at them, startled. “This is too much! I was told half a drachma.”

He checked his list. “That is the correct amount. One drachma. None is held back pending completion of the tour, because you have joined it halfway along. Plus two obols, for maintenance of your equipment. You are not actually being paid more.” Then he smiled, briefly, becoming human. “But you evidently have the trierarch’s favor, if not the hoplite’s. You piped well.”

“But I made mistakes!”

“Perhaps he expects you to live up to his expectation.”

“I—I will try,” She was amazed by this development. The fact that they were paying her full wage now meant that they had no hold on her; she could leave at any time without penalty. So though the pay was standard, this was indeed a sign of the captain’s favor.

Back at the apartment, she told Wona about it. The woman nodded. “I told you that your playing would impress him, You are good, Jes—very good. You must have made the crew row unusually well.”

“It did seem good. But the oarsmen are experienced. I assumed—”

“Did you find out his marital status?”

“No. I hardly talked to him.”

“Well, I did. He is single. His wife died in the plague. I think this tour with the ship is a relief for him, because he doesn’t have to face his empty home. I want an introduction.”

“I will try,” Jes said.

The next day was more practice. This was mostly, Jes suspected, to build the oarsmen up so they could row all day, and sustain speed in battle conditions. Today, too, the full crew was aboard, including the ten hoplites and four archers. The hoplites were ranged along the gangway, sitting on anchored stools, staying very still, because any movement could disturb the equilibrium of the craft and interfere with the efficiency of the oars. They were there to defend the ship from enemy boarding, and to fight on land when the ship was beached, but Jes suspected that they had a secondary purpose: to maintain discipline among the oarsmen. If any oarsman seemed inclined to protest anything, a sharp glance by a hoplite served to quell the notion. The four archers were grouped at the stern around the trierarch and helmsman, and would be bodyguards for them during combat. The seamen were completely idle while the ship was being rowed, but when the lunch break came, they sprang to their positions at bow and stern, hauling on the lines that anchored the foresail and mainsail. It was clear that a good wind could take the ship any distance, but for battle that was not feasible, because the ship needed to move rapidly in any direction.

“Ho!” an oarsman cried during the afternoon session.

The nearest hoplite scowled in his direction. “What?”

“There’s a leak on my foot.”

The hoplite caught the eye of the helmsman. “Leak,” he called, pointing.

The helmsman signaled the boatswain, who signaled Jes: glide to a halt. She slowed her beat until the boatswain gave her the complete Halt signal. The oars lifted from the water, and the ship drifted.

Now the shipwright appeared from belowdecks and made his way to the indicated spot. Sure enough, a jet of water was coming in. The commander of the hoplites grimaced steadily in Jes’s direction, as if blaming her for this mishap. Why did he hate her so? But the shipwright quickly pegged and tarred the leak, and bailed out a few buckets of bilge-water. The ship was reasonably tight again.

At the end of the day, Jes dallied after the men had been paid, nerving herself for what she had to do. Captain Ittai spied her. “You have a problem, piper?”

“No, sir.” She took a breath. “May I speak candidly, sir.” It was a request, not a question.

“You may.”

“My attractive sister would like to meet you.”

He laughed. “Now why would you have to speak for her?”

“She asked me to. She is seeking—”

“Clear enough. But at the moment I am not looking for female company.”

“I will tell her, sir.” Jes turned away, embarrassed.

“Hold, piper.” She turned back. “Are you comfortable with this?”

“I would rather never to have brought it up,” she said, striving not to blush. “I apologize.”

“So I thought. But you had to do what you were told to do. It occurs to me that I was perhaps hasty. My wife is never going to return, and my nights are lonely. Take me to your sister.”

Jes tried to control her surprise. “As you wish, sir.”

“About the hoplite, commander,” he said. “His name is Kettle, the son of Pot, a repatriated slave. He is not the brightest of men, but he makes up for it by the ferocity of his combat and his loyalty to those he respects. The prior pipeman, taken by the plague, was his friend. He resents any replacement.”

Oh. That explained that aspect. “I will try to do well enough to please him, in time.”

“Only your abject failure would please him. But he is a good man, and dedicated to the welfare of the ship. He knows there must be a pipeman. You need have no fear of him.”

“What about away from the ship?” she asked nervously.

He shook his head. “Then stay away from him. He will not come after you, but it would not be wise to provoke him.”

They walked to the hall where Wona served. “She works here,” Jes explained. “I can tell her—”

“No. I am hungry anyway. We shall eat.”

“Sir?”

“You and me and your sister.”

“Yes, sir,” Jes agreed faintly. She was not at all comfortable with this developing situation. For one thing, she really liked her position as piper, and didn’t want to risk forfeiting it because of some social complication. The trierarch was clearly accustomed to being obeyed by those he encountered, and Wona did not necessarily respond well to such imperatives. Sparks could fly—and Jes could be caught in the middle.

They took a table. Wona soon came over. She gave no sign that she knew Jes. “Your best wine and bread, for three,” Captain Ittai said, proffering a silver coin.

Wona flashed a smile at him. “Immediately.”

“You will join us.”

“Oh, I am not allowed to—”

“This is Captain Ittai,” Jes said quickly.

Wona, startled, nodded. She must have mistaken him for a lesser officer, not expecting so high a personage to walk right into her hands. She would get permission from the proprietor, who surely did not have many trierarchs as patrons.

“She is attractive,” Ittai agreed, watching the swing of Wona’s hips as she departed.

Jes felt awkward. “There is no need for me to remain—”

“Stay. I have not been with a woman in some time. I am not adept at trifling dialogue. When it lags, you provide it.”

Worse yet. “Yes, sir.” Her tension did not ease.

Wona returned with an excellent meal. “I thank you, captain,” she said, flashing him a smile as she took the third seat. “I have wanted to meet you.”

“So your brother informed me.”

Things progressed rapidly, as Wona utilized her considerable array of charms. Jes did not need to attempt to fill in dialogue; Wona kept it going without seeming difficulty. When the good meal was done, the captain invited Wona to spend the evening at his residence, and she accepted. They departed together, leaving Jes to finish off what remained of the bread, which she was glad to do. It was good to eat really well, for once.

So it had been a success, after all. Wona had finally found a suitable man, and she would make sure he did not escape. But Jes’s feelings were mixed. Because while she was glad to see the near end of her long mission, she was not easy about inflicting a woman like Wona on the captain, who seemed to be a decent man. Yet maybe it would be all right, because Ittai had the wealth to afford a woman like that, and would not expect her to do manual labor. If she had children by him, there would be servants to care for them. Wona was a bad deal only for a poor man. In any event, the trierarch was surely capable of making up his own mind.

She consumed the last crumb, pleasantly full for the first time in several days, and went back to the apartment. She still had most of Crockson’s largess remaining in her hidden purse-bag, but she was hoarding that for a time of real need. She was existing for the moment mostly on scraps Wona brought back from the inn.

She lay on her pallet and slept. Her sleep was undisturbed; Wona did not return to the apartment in the night.

The next day the activity on the ship was normal. They continued to practice maneuvers, becoming ever faster and sharper. The helmsman nodded with satisfaction as the ship became a finely functioning unit.

At the end of the day, the trierarch approached Jes. “It was a good introduction.” He turned away.

Later, back at the apartment, Wona echoed the sentiment. “I believe he is the one. He is wealthy, mannered, undemanding, and in a few months his term of service will end and he will retire to a rich estate. What more could a woman want?”

“Love?” Jes asked.

Wona laughed. “Maybe eventually. A man has to earn my love.”

“How does he do that?”

“By treating me the way I like, for several years. It is not smart to sell love cheaply.”

Jes didn’t argue, but she winced internally. She would have liked to have love on any terms, and wealth hardly mattered. Captain Ittai was a good man, and Wona was using him. It didn’t seem fair. But it was not her place to object. She had, after all, introduced them.

She thought of Sam, who had been similarly used. Did Ittai have a sister? A little brother? Would they suffer?

She put such thoughts from her mind and focused on the training at the ship. She liked being its pipeman, and she liked being part of a smoothly functioning crew. The men treated her courteously despite considering her a stripling, because she was doing the job well. They accepted her, and that was worth a great deal. When they participated in coordinated maneuvers with the other ships of the fleet, their ship often was assigned the lead position, and she knew that was because it was among the fastest and surest. And that was because the oarsmen were responding well to her piping.

She didn’t even mind spending many nights alone. She had lost her earlier dislike of Wona, after the woman cared for her well during the plague, and they had taught each other some worthwhile things, but the memories of Sam and Ned remained. She could survive quite well without the woman’s company.

“He is a real catch,” Wona remarked on one of the nights she was home.

“He is a good man,” Jes said.

“That, too.” Wona glanced at her. “He likes your piping:”

Jes nodded. At least it seemed that her job was not in peril. But she remained uneasy about the relationship of the two. Wona could bring such grief to a good man.

“Something’s up,” Wona said another evening. “There is going to be a battle. The gossip is rife.”

Jes discovered that the fear she had expected to feel at such news was lacking. “We have a good ship, a good crew, and a good fleet. We are ready for battle.”

“They have fifty ships.”

Jes stared at her. “Fifty?” There were only twenty ships in Phormio’s fleet.

“From Corinth, stroking this way. Most are troopships. They are going to Acarnania.”

Troopships. That was better. They would be heavily laden, and sluggish in the water. No match for the Athenian vessels in speed or maneuverability. But if contact was made between the ships, those troops would overrun the scant troops on the Athenian side. This was dangerous.

The next day Captain Ittai assembled the crew and confirmed the news. “The Corinthians are attempting to sneak past our blockade of the gulf,” he announced. “They have forty-two troopships and five fast ships. We have to stop them. We shall do so.”

“Yes!” the members of the crew agreed. But their enthusiasm was tempered by realism. They were overmatched, and this was likely to be a grueling campaign, with substantial losses.

They set out eastward, toward the mouth of the gulf. The masts of the enemy fleet were visible by the southern shore. The enemy was proceeding in plain sight by daylight, seemingly contemptuous of the lesser Athenian fleet: They knew that if Phormio tried to engage them near the south shore, the maneuverability of his fleet would be limited, and any ships that were disabled would be subject to attack by Spartan forces on that shore. Only in the open sea, far from land, could the Athenians make their superiority in fast ships count. The Corinthians were not giving them that chance.

All day they paced the slow enemy fleet, staying north, but not engaging. In the afternoon the Corinthians passed the narrowest section, alert for attack, but Phormio did not attack. Was he letting them get away?

By nightfall the Corinthians landed at their harbor at Patrai, where it was not possible to attack them. The Athenian fleet landed on the north shore and bivouacked. This would have been a problem for Jes, because she could not urinate in the bushes in the way of a man. But it was dusk, and she was able to lose herself in the shadows for the necessary time.