What happened to your friend?" I played it cool.
He walked into an oar." I felt a chill. One of the Fourth Cohort, Parvus, had struck a thief with an oar, during the fracas at the river. We glared at each other. The man in charge was dark, domineering and displeased. His fierce gaze suggested he was ready for a fight.
What are you doing here?"
Making some routine enquiries. The name's Falco."
Cotys."
And?"
Arion." The wounded man had stiffened up; now the pair moved apart, covering my escape route.
Where are you from, Cotys?"
Dyrrhachium." Where in Hades was that?
Not on my personal trade route I guessed wildly. Would that be Illyna?" Then as Cotys nodded, I rushed his wounded crewman. I had reckoned Arion was the easy target because of his wounds. Wrong. Arion laid into me in an offhand way. Disposing of trouble was routine; he wanted it over quickly, and if I died on him he didn't care. I broke free, barging Arion into Cotys to delay them, and legged it for the shoreward gangplank. Someone whistled, summoning reinforcements. I didn't stop to worry about the crew coming up on deck; others had arrived on the quay, blocking my escape. Then a huge blow between my shoulders felled me. I crashed to the deck and felt my back wrench painfully. I was dragged upright. Many hands threw me between them. After some playful Falco-tossing they hurled me half senseless back on the deck. Around me began more action than I liked. This vessel's crew were masters of the rapid getaway. The ship had close to fifty oars, single banked each side; from nowhere rowers had appeared to man them. Smaller and chunkier in build than the elegant warships, it could have been moored there beside the triremes for days, weeks even, but it was leaving now. Energetic activity had the liburnian edging out into the harbour without benefit of a tugboat. All was not lost, or so I thought briefly. As we pulled out beyond the trireme, I suddenly saw above me the white-haired head of Caninus. He looked down over the trireme rail curiously. I struggled upright and yelled for help. Caninus merely raised a languid arm. Maybe he was waving farewell to me, but it seemed a signal to Cotys. Any hopes of rescue by the navy faded abruptly. I had one chance to help myself, while the sailors still busied themselves with leaving. They had not even searched me. As the ship approached the harbour exit and the lighthouse, I whipped out my sword and held it to a seaman's throat. But nobody noticed me. My frantic cries to the officials at the lighthouse were lost. At that time of day, the port officials high above had too many vessels in sight. Sailors threw themselves upon me, ignoring the danger to their colleague. Their reaction was automatic. These men were used to acting fast. They didn't bother to disarm me; I was dragged to the rail and thrown straight over it. Like the warships, this liburnian had outriggers. These structures extending out from the hull are standard on warships with banked oars, but normally unnecessary on monoremes. But if they expect combat, as, say, a pirate ship might, outriggers protect their oars from being raked and smashed by an enemy. At least it saved me from the drink. I fell into the outrigger but as I grabbed its upper rail, I lost my grip on my sword. It slipped through the gap next to the hull, and fell into the sea. As I myself risked slipping between the brackets that supported the oarbox rails, the Illyrians decided to pull me back aboard before I could do damage. Knives were drawn; clinging to the fragile wood work, I didn't fancy being sliced. As hands reached out, I let myself be pulled back in. I scrambled from the outrigger to the deckrail, then dropped back on board. They would not kill me in full view of land. This time they roped me to the mast to keep me out of trouble. I calmed down. As my heartbeat steadied, I assessed the situation. It seemed clear from the way this ship was loaded and crewed that Cotys was planning a lengthy cruise.
Where are you sailing to?" I croaked at a passing sailor. His face split into a vicious grin. We're going home, Falco!" Hades. These bastards were carrying me off to Illyria. Nobody on shore could have spotted my plight. Hopes of pursuit and rescue soon faded. The liburnian galley was another craft I knew from a past adventure. Camillus Justinus and I had once commanded such a ship down a river in Germania Libera. A lad with well-placed friends, Justinus. One of his friends was a beautiful priestess in a German forest, the lost love he never talked about to his wife, Claudia. The priestess happened to have possession of a liburnian galley [which made her more useful than any lost loves of mine!] and she had let us borrow it. This liburnian from Dyrrhachium had the classic lightness of her class, and she produced a good turn of speed. She was half decked, and with my limited experience I could tell she was sailing low in the water as if fully laden; who knew what illicit cargo lurked beneath the deck, though I made some guesses. They are nippy vessels, large enough to feel secure, but excellent for reconnaissance, river navigation, or piracy. On the high seas a liburnian can spurt out of nowhere, overhaul a heavily laden merchantman, and grapple to it before defensive action can be taken. Soon we had sailed out of the harbour, passed the Tiber mouth, and turned south along the coast. It was a wonderful time for sailing, as afternoon sunlight sparkled on the blue waves below a cloudless summer sky. The gracious villas of the rich looked like toy houses all along the shore. Once we were under way, I was released from the mast and brought forward to be sport for Cotys. He swaggered up, eyes bright with anticipation. His men stripped me of my cloak, sneering; it was a simple, functional garment which I wore for camouflage, not fashion. Judging by their exotic gear, they would all have preferred to capture playboys in fancy silks. Cotys was ready to conduct the ritual humiliation. So, what have we here? Your name again?"