Legacy of Blood (15 page)

‘All lights off! Black out! All lights out!'

Two marines scrambled down the steps, and extinguished the lanterns by capping them. The oar-deck was in darkness. The eyes of Lysander's comrades shone in the fine silver light from the stars.

‘Are we here?' whispered Orpheus. His voice was slurred with fatigue.

Some of the boys had already ditched their oars and were climbing topside. Lysander was glad to release his grip and stand stiffly from the bench. Orpheus's face was ghostly white, and he leant across his oar halfway back on the Odds side. Careful not to trip in the gloom, Lysander went to him. A strange smell hung around his friend. Not sweat, or blood, but something sickly sweet. Even in the murk of the oar-deck, he could see the purple bruising around the top of Orpheus's stump, spreading up his thigh.

‘The infection's getting worse,' said Lysander.

‘There should be some dried sac fungi in the supplies,' said Orpheus. ‘I'll take some when we land.'

‘You need it now,' said Lysander, turning to go.

‘No!' said Orpheus, seizing Lysander's arm. ‘I won't slow us down. Promise me you'll wait.'

Lysander looked into his friend's eyes. ‘Very well,' he said. ‘As soon as we land.'

Lysander made his way to the upper deck. Here the air was still and cool, and the sweat dried on his back. The boys and the marines were all gathered along the starboard side of the vessel, peering over the rails.

‘I can't see anything!' Spiros was saying, but Lysander knew that he was short-sighted; they always joked in training that he wouldn't see the enemy until the sword was in his belly. Lysander saw in the distance a few pricks of light, like distant stars on the horizon.

‘Is that Taras?' he asked.

Lernos nodded. ‘That's it,' he said. ‘We need to keep
close to the coast, and we should get to the bay before dawn.'

Aristodermus turned to the boys. ‘Back below!'

Lysander took up his position on the bench again beside his tutor; Orpheus seemed to have gathered his strength, and sat straight in his seat. They rowed at half pace. Through the oar-holes, Lysander saw Taras disappear out of sight, and the coastline approached. Moskos signalled with a lift of his upturned palm for Lysander's side to draw up their blades, and the other row to keep pulling. The ship turned level with the shore, and then Moskos raised his hands for Lysander and his crew to resume. Three days before, Lysander hadn't known how to hold an oar; now, they were a well-oiled team.

The only sounds above the steady breathing of the other boys were the thumping of the oars between their pins and the splashing of the blades in the water.

‘Keep steady,' said Moskos, anxiously peering through the observation hatch. He turned to Lernos. ‘You're sure you know the depth here?'

‘I've sailed these waters all my life,' said Lernos, frowning.

Lysander concentrated on pulling in time with the others, and stared round at his comrades. Their faces were grimy with sweat and dust, their eyes dark hollows. Leonidas's jaw was set firm and the muscles on his arms stood out like cords as he pulled his oar. Demaratos was hunched awkwardly, and Lysander could tell each stroke brought him pain by the twitch
in his cheek. Aristodermus' pale skin seemed to glow in the twilight beside him.

‘We're almost in,' said Lernos. ‘Steady now. The entrance to the beach is narrow. Let me take charge.'

‘Very well,' said Moskos.

Lernos took his place at the head of the aisle, all the time flicking his head to look outside.

‘You must listen carefully,' he said to them. ‘The current here is strong, far too strong to swim, and rocks line the bay on either side. We have to turn and enter perfectly straight, or a boat this size will not make it. Do you understand?'

‘Yes, sir,' Lysander said with the others.

‘When I give the signal, we'll complete the turn, and then row hard into shore. Ready?'

‘Ready.'

They rowed a few more strokes, then Lernos lifted his arms to signal oars up. The ship drifted onwards, but then was buffeted hard by a wave. ‘Ignore it,' said Lernos. ‘Port. One … Two … Three.'

Lysander and his side obeyed in unison. He leant forward and let his blade hover over the water. The boat turned.

‘Starboard also. One … Two … Three …'

The other side dropped their oars into the water.

Lysander heaved in time to the Tarantian's voice, and the boat surged forward. It felt good. From the side, he could see the dark water, and the silhouette of the land rising up behind. The channel didn't look narrow, but
perhaps the water was shallow.

Lysander tried to keep his oar in time. The sound of wood knocking on wood was quickly followed by a more terrifying crunch that seemed to shake the whole boat.

Lysander heard gushing water.

Suddenly, his feet were wet.

Lysander turned with the others. Water surged through a jagged gap in the timbers like some creature from the depths swamping the ship. It soaked the benches and lapped up against the side of the oar-deck. Flecks of foam showered Lysander's face, and he screwed his eyes against the spray. He tasted salt on his lips.

‘The hull's breached,' shouted Lernos. ‘Abandon ship!'

The thunder of the water roared in Lysander's ears.

‘Take in your oars!' said Moskos. ‘Topside, all of you.'

Boys streamed past Lysander's bench, almost falling over each other to scramble away from the gaping hole. Leonidas was already standing at the bottom of the steps, ushering the others to safety.

‘Come on,' said Aristodermus, taking Lysander's arm and pulling him toward the crowd heading up the steps.

The water in the hull was around Lysander's ankles now, and still rising. How long till the boat sank?

The bay was little more than a thin patch of sand a hundred paces away, backed by wave-swept rocks, enclosed by two headlands like a set of crab's pincers. Boys stood against the deck-rail, peering over the back of the ship where the water was coming in.

The ship lurched as the aft tore free from the submerged rocks. Lysander struggled to stay on his feet and slammed into Aristodermus, who steadied him.

‘Salvage what you can of weapons and equipment,' he shouted, ‘and get overboard.'

The ship was already sitting lower in the water. The sky was just giving way to grey but the sun was not yet up, and Lysander could see the dark shapes of the rocks just beneath the surface of the sea.

Another wave buffeted the vessel closer to the shore. ‘What about the ship?'

‘Forget the ship. It's useless now.'

Moskos was suddenly between them, stabbing Aristodermus with a finger, his weather-beaten face close.

‘We take the ship in with us.'

Aristodermus' hand flashed upwards and seized Moskos either side of the jugular, pushing him backwards on to a pile of ropes. ‘I won't send my boys back down there to row.'

Moskos choked out his words. ‘You don't need to. We must drag her in. Get ropes tied to the aft, above the breach. My men can do the rest.'

Aristodermus stared at Moskos for a moment, then released him. He turned to Lysander.

‘Get ropes secured firmly to the deck-rails, and anything that won't break off.'

Lysander found a crowd of boys and repeated Aristodermus' orders.

‘But how will
we
get to shore?' said Phemus.

‘Another swim,' said Lysander.

Phemus pointed into the water. ‘We'll be torn to pieces on the rocks; you saw what happened to the ship.'

‘We have our orders.'

Boys ran to the ropes and began tying off knots against the deck-rails. Others were busy fastening on their swords. Lysander was impressed with their quiet organisation.

Moskos and his small crew waited, and he was shaking his head impatiently.
To Hades with your ship!
thought Lysander. His comrades descended on the weapons store like bees to their nests, plucking shields and spears. Leonidas handed Lysander his.

‘Are you ready?' shouted Aristodermus.

‘Yes, sir!' they shouted back. All had their cloaks rolled up and fastened to their fronts.

The ship listed suddenly to port, sending two or three of the boys to the deck. Those who stayed on their feet, including Lysander, stumbled instinctively to the other side to try and steady the vessel. Lysander tripped over the ropes that lay tangled across the deck.

‘We haven't got long,' said Moskos, looping a rope over one shoulder and under the opposite arm. Sirkon and the other crew did the same. ‘If she takes in any more, we're going to lose her. Get your
army
in safely. We'll need them to drag the ship in.' He turned to the marines. ‘Have you all made sacrifices to Poseidon? You're in his hands now.'

They nodded, then one by one climbed on to the deck-rail and slipped overboard. The ropes around their middles snaked over the rail and five sploshes sounded as they hit the water.

Lysander looked over the side. The marines were already making for shore. ‘Forget Poseidon,' Lysander said. ‘Trust in yourselves. Regroup on the sand, and good luck.'

Lysander saw the others hesitate, so decided to act first. He clambered over the deck-rail, and stood on the outer ledge. The waves slapped the side of the ship, and he could see the rocks more clearly beneath the surface now, with pale patches between them. The rest of the boys followed his example. He let his shield drop into the water below, then picked a safe-looking spot. He couldn't be sure, but there was no time to waste. He stepped off.

For a moment he thought his legs had struck something solid, but the water gave and he plunged downwards. His spear shot loose of his hand and burning saltwater filled his nostrils. Cold wrapped itself around him and squeezed.

His limbs were heavy from the days of rowing, and he clawed back to the surface, finding his shield and spear floating on the undulating waves. All around boys fell into the water like stones, surfacing with splutters and coughs. Lysander turned on to his back and began kicking towards the shore. The cold seemed to close on his heart like a fist.

Swimming with his cumbersome weapons was like dragging himself through thick honey, but Lysander sucked in deep lungfuls of air and willed himself on. The sky above was growing paler by the second, and
the stars were vanishing one by one. Lysander fixed his eyes on the brightest and kicked on.

Something brushed his head, and he twisted in the water. A rope. His fingers gripped it. He saw the marines standing on the shore, beckoning them in. Lysander pulled himself along the lifeline, kicking at the same time, until finally a wave plucked him up and he floated in on its surge. His legs were wobbly as he felt the ocean floor, but he supported himself on his spear and managed to drag himself up the beach. His feet crunched and he saw that among the pebbles were littered the fragments of shells, big and small. Some, spiralled and luminescent in the pre-dawn light, were beautiful.

The others were finding their way ashore as well, heaving their soaked bodies on to dry land like strange creatures from the deep. Kantor was clinging to one of the stronger boys, who carried him on his shoulders as he swam. All Lysander wanted to do was lie down and rest, but a strong hand tugged him to his feet. It was Moskos.

‘The job's only half done,' he said. ‘Get on a rope.'

Lysander dropped his shield and spear, and stood behind Sirkon, who had planted his feet firmly in the pebbles. Leonidas rushed up behind Lysander, and the rest of the boys spread themselves along the five ropes, some right at the water's edge, others further up the beach.
Surely it was futile
, thought Lysander.
How could they drag a ship that size?

‘Heave on three,' yelled Moskos. ‘One … Two …
Heave
!'

Lysander tightened his freezing fists around the ropes and pulled with everything he had. For a moment, it looked as though the ship was not going to move at all, but then the back, where the ropes were fastened, shifted towards them.

‘We're doing it!' shouted Demaratos. ‘It's moving.'

Lysander's legs and arms were racked with tremors, but he heaved until his eyes felt ready to burst. The aft swung around towards them, and the ship began to drift slowly in, as though propelled by a light breeze.

‘Keep pulling!' ordered Moskos.

Lysander took a step backwards up the beach, then another, as the ship's pace increased. Then he was pulling hand over hand. With a grinding sound, the stricken vessel climbed out of the water, its keel pocked with barnacles. It scraped across the pebbles to a halt, and water began pouring out of the oar-holes at the bow end.

‘Well done, men,' said Moskos, coming to Lysander's side.

‘It will be fine there,' said Lernos. ‘When the tide goes out, it will be completely on dry land.'

Up close Lysander could see the breach in the hull wasn't as big as he'd thought. It was a tear as wide as his arm was long, but only a plank in depth.

Lysander sank down again among the shields on the beach beside Leonidas and Orpheus. Leonidas plucked
up a conch shell from the beach, just like the polished ones sold in the market in Amikles along with sea sponges. Inside, its horned exterior shone bright pink.

‘They say Poseidon's son Triton carries one of these, and when he blows it, the sea turns wild.'

‘Then it looks like Triton is against us,' said Lysander.

Orpheus patted his shoulder and gave a small chuckle. ‘If the Gods were against us, we wouldn't be here now, would we?'

They rested on the beach as the sky gave way to grey, then blue. One of the marines ventured back on to the vessel and the boys took it in turns to form a chain in the water, along which to pass the remaining weapons, armour and supplies. Thankfully, the flasks of water had kept dry above deck, and Lysander swallowed a few mouthfuls of the brackish liquid. They all began to sort through their equipment, and helped each other fasten their armour. Lysander's leather breastplate chafed against his skin, but as soon as the arm and leg-guards were fitted as well, he felt his determination hardening.