Cold sweat trickled down Julius’s back. He could feel itunder his helmet and armor. His trembling hands pulled his brass-rimmed gogglesover his eyes, then grasped his carpteneo. He inched his way back towardthe edge. Souzetio was smiling and waving him ahead. He smile seemed to say, Hurryup before we die of old age.
Julius took a deep breath and leaned back into space. Youcan do it! one part of his brain encouraged. Are you crazy? therational part of his brain countered. Shut up, he told them both. Hebent his knees, and-pushed!
For a moment, it felt as though his stomach had dropped outof his body. The wind whistled past him, twisting him around on the rope. Rememberyour training! His brain screamed at him. Julius grasped the carpteneo withboth hands and squeezed. His descent stopped. He continued spinning lazily,getting a panoramic view of the landing field and surrounding forests. Taking adeep breath, Julius loosened his grip on the carpteneo. His body began to creepdown the line. A slow smile spread over his face. More confident now, heloosened his grip and his body dropped at a steadier pace.
He briefly looked up and saw Gwendyrn leaning over the side.He appeared to be shaking his head at someone behind him. Focusing on his ownsituation, Julius continued to tighten, then relax his grip on the line. Theground approached in fits and spurts. Finally, Julius lowered himself the lastcouple of feet and he gasped out a pent breath as he felt his feet touch terrafirma. His legs were wobbly and his shaking fingers fumbled as he tried todetach his carpteneo from the line. The ground crew member stepped forward andwordlessly helped.
His knees still weak with the aftermath of terror, Juliushobbled over to the legionaries who had already descended.
Tribune Appius slapped him solidly on the back. “By thegods, Julius, stop making us look like amateurs out there! You’ll have to giveus all some specialized instruction, it appears!”
The tribune must have nerves of steel, Julius thoughtas he bent to massage his still trembling legs. He’s even smiling andwalking around as if he’s on holiday in the Mediterranean. Only later wouldJulius learn that the tribune had puked his guts out immediately after landing.
A muffled shout from above drew Julius’s eyes upward.Gwendyrn was flailing and spinning on the rope above their heads.
“By Jupiter, the man’s gone and lost his head!” cried thedeckhand holding the rope. “Quick, help me lower him before he breaks his carpteneo!”Following the tribune’s lead, Julius and his companions rushed to grab therope. With the deckhand chanting the pace, they laboriously pulled the ropedown. Men from the other landing ropes ran over to help.
The man above them seemed to float between ship and earth.Julius tilted his head up and released his grip on the rope long enough to undothe strap under his chin and gently toss his helmet behind him. A shiver ranthrough him as cool air flowed over his shaven scalp. This was taking forever.The men around him were all blinking sweat from their eyes.
Then he had an idea. “Hey, Gwendyrn, you big baby!” heshouted. “Stop throwing a temper tantrum and get your behind in motion! Relaxyour hands!”
The tribune looked at him, grinned, and cupped his handsaround his mouth to add his call to Julius’s. “Legionnaire Gwendyrn, if you arenot down here in one minute, I am confiscating your beer ration for the rest ofthe month! And I will give it to your squadmates!”
Gwendyrn seemed to pause in his frantic thrashing. Juliusshielded his eyes with his hand. Yes! He seemed to be furiously working at thecarpteneo in his hands. Finally, he began to slide down the rope again. The menon the ground cheered. When he eventually touched down, his face was tear-streakedand his arms were white with tension. “No one takes my beer from me,” heproclaimed.
A few men laughed, but otherwise they exchanged no words.They didn’t have to. They were simply glad Gwendyrn was alive and healthy onthe ground. Tribune Appius gave the man a clap on the back, then they all movedaway, watching the next man descend the thin, tenuous line between the floatingwarship and the safety of the ground.
The rest of the exercise went without incident. Each grouphad a few men who had a troublesome first descent, but that was to be expected.When everyone was down, Tribune Appius gathered them all around a convenientstump and stepped up onto it. Facing his men, he removed his redhorsehair-crested helmet off his head and tucked it under one elbow.
“Great job with the first descent,” he told them.“Unfortunately, if this was a real combat descent, Mister Horatio over hereinforms me that half of us would be dead, leaving the other half probablyfighting for our lives here on the ground, unable to get back up to the shipand safety. Therefore, we shall continue to practice until we can get down inless than five minutes. In addition, gentlemen, we will now practice ascendingto the ship. This maneuver is a bit … rougher … than your descent was, I’mtold.”
Julius sighed with several others. Mutters of protest ranthrough the assembled men.
“Come now, I’ve heard they’ve got hot drinks up on the shipas a pick-me-up for our first drop mission together! Of course, last one theremay not get any. So line up at your respective wires, and let’s show thoseflyboys that we know our business.”
The men shuffled off to their lines. A few minutes later,Julius was being winched back onto the Scioparto at a brisk pace. A pairof deckhands waiting by the opening in the railing pulled him back onto theship. Captain Alexandros himself was there to witness their performance, andJulius realized that this must be a learning experience for him and his men aswell. Never before in the history of the Roman Empire had the legions and theair fleet worked so closely together. They were breaking new ground. Julius’schest swelled with pride.
At last, Tribune Appius clambered aboard. Naturally, he hadbeen the first man down and the last man off the ground. The captain noddedapprovingly. Although he didn’t know the tribune that well, he appeared to be adecent sort. Of course, his heritage practically ensured that he would becapable in some way. It was better to be capable in leadership than capable insomething less fortunate, such as basket weaving, Alexandros mused as his handwhipped up in a crisp salute. Tribune Appius returned it.
“Welcome back to the ship, Tribune. Glad to have you backsafe and sound. If you have the time, I think we should meet on the bridge todiscuss how we can modify and improve our deployment next time.”
The tribune quickly agreed. As he moved off to giveinstructions to his senior centurion, Alexandros wondered for the thousandthtime that day what quirk of fate had entrusted him to work with a member of theroyal family, given that his ancestors had been the ringleaders in an attemptto murder Constantine’s ancestor in 33 BC. Who at the Bureau of State messedthis one up? It mattered naught, for his efforts with this man would giveAlexandros and his family a glorious return to the annals of history.
Chapter 8
Gregias, valet to the emperor Hadrian Silenius Appius,tiptoed around him this morning, and His Royal Highness knew it was because hewas in a foul mood. First, he was unable to spend time on his new dirigible,the Marelena, due to some technical problems. Second, those cursed reportershad run unflattering drawings and stories about him and his heir, Lucius, soEmperor Hadrian was, naturally, upset. Which meant, third, his householdirritated him by tiptoeing around him. Hadrian hated those vicious, smelly,untruthful men.
He had considered sending another law to the Senate thatmade it legal to bring complaints against journalists who wrote untruths abouta person. Every time he tried, though, the Senate protested that people had theright to free speech. Of course he could just institute it as a law himself,but that would bring him into conflict with not just the Senate, but thePlebeian Council. They currently happened to be some of his strongestsupporters, acting as a useful counterweight to the temperate nature of theSenate.