Perennius climbed the ladder after the captain, but only in a physical sense was he following Leonidas now. The agent recalled how blithely he had bounded up and down through the hatchway less than an hour before. Well, the almighty Sun knew the same two inches of iron could have stiffened more of him than one thigh.
Leonidas was giving loud orders and gesturing at the sail with his sword. He seemed to have drawn the weapon to cut entangling cordage, but the gestures became increasingly brusque as men ignored him. A deck crewman, then two others, moved to help. The bulk of the crowd now on deck was rowers. On duty, they had had too little contact with Leonidas to respond to him as an officer when they were shaken with panic.
Both Gaius and Calvus waited at the hatch for the agent. They bent together, each supporting Perennius beneath one elbow and lifting him back on deck smoothly. If you can’t have two good legs, the agent thought wryly, be a cripple with friends. Blazes.
He put a hand on the waist of either man and shooed them ten feet down the deck where there was less congestion of men working or babbling in fear. “Sestius!” he called, knowing that when the centurion joined, Sabellia would come also. The agent did not want to use the Gallic woman’s name, did not want to think about her – did not want her to become separated.
Sestius strode to them promptly. He had been lending a clumsy hand to Leonidas and his sailors. The centurion’s face was flushed even darker than usual. “Sir,” he said, “we’re going to wrap the sail over the bow like a bandage. That’ll stop the water coming in until we can make proper repairs on – ”
“At ease!” Perennius said sharply. Blazes, they were all coming loose. Maybe he was himself and he just didn’t realize it. Sabellia watched from beyond the centurion’s shoulder. Her hand was tight on her knife hilt, another response to tension when its cause was unapproachable. “We’re going to leave the ship, now,” the agent said to the faces bending close to his. “We’re going to use this grating – ” he touched a boot to the wooden grate displaced from the forward ventilator – “as a float, and
we’re going to kick it and paddle it along all night if we have to until we reach land.”
Both Gaius and Sestius started to speak. “Aulus, we can’t – ” blurted out with, “Sir, the sail will – ”
Both reactions were expected. “At ease!” Perennius snarled. He glared at the two military men. By god, he might not be able to lead men or organize them, but he could damned well make a small group listen while he spoke! “We can do it, and we are going to do it,” he said fiercely to the panic which did not quite rule Gaius’ face. “Because the whole hull is cracking, and that sail isn’t going to do a damned thing for the big hole in the bow anyway. Now, get your armor off and your boots. Move!”
The order gave both men what they needed, a raft of hope on which their minds could float. Only Perennius himself had to worry about their real chances of paddling a fucking grate the gods knew –
“Land seems to be about seven miles off, Aulus Perennius,” the bald man said. “The currents are a question, of course, but I was raised for strength – ” he smiled – “as you know.”
“Blazes, we’re going to get through this,” the agent said. Gaius and the centurion were fumbling at buckles. Their fingers were swollen by the shock of recent battle. “I said we would, didn’t I?” Gods, Calvus had learned to smile like a human; and he, Aulus Perennius, was making jokes about his own sense of duty. “What is the land?” he asked aloud. “Cyprus or the mainland? I haven’t much cared in the past so long as the seamen were satisfied; and I don’t think this is the time to ask.”
Two of Leonidas’ men had dropped over the side. They were clinging to the hawsers they would try to run beneath the keel. The stern of the Eagle swung in the breeze. It rose noticeably higher from the sea than did the bow, so that it caught more of the wind now that they were not under sail.