Novel Treatments / Pytheas Chapter IV
Chapter IV: The Pillars of Hercules
After sailing three days out of Emporia, the Sea Wolf cut through the clear waters along the eastern coast of Iberia. The crew watched the white sandy beaches slide away as they traveled farther south. The coastline grew into large crags and rocks, and dotted with the occasional island. Many of the crew were veterans of other excursions south and it was common knowledge amongst them that there were small Greek, Celtiberian, and Carthaginian outposts and commercial ports located intermittently along the eastern and southern Iberian coast. Pytheas made it abundantly clear that the Sea Wolf would continue on its course without further delay until she passed through the Pillars of Hercules and on to the Atlantic port of Gadir.
Simon breathed in the saline sea air, as he peered through the porthole. His duties as Lieutenant were arduous, to say the least. After nearly a week on board, Pytheas and Orpheus were constantly making sure that Simon’s education as naval officer and naturalist was full. As Pytheas had previously made clear, Lineus was in charge of inducting the neophyte to the hands-on tasks aboard a sea ship; knot tying, rope and net weaving, sail mending and positioning, cleaning, and so on. It seemed to Simon as though the work was never finished. Orpheus and Pytheas alternately gave lectures on business and natural history respectively. In addition to this, Pytheas began teaching what he referred to as the study of men that applied naturalistic ideology to the study of humankind outside the Mediterranean. The Captain would share his observations regarding studying the cultures of others at length. On one such occasion, Simon finally spoke up.
“Are we to conduct similar studies on the natives in the lands we are to visit Sir?”
“In my mind Simon, it is the most important part of our expedition. For without humans, land would have no meaning. There is a fortune out there to grasp through trade and acquisition of natural resources. The Greeks could not prosper without knowing what type of people we conduct business with.”
“Then does the land belong to the natives?”
“The people and their customs are required to change with their surroundings in mind. Would a man that lives in the highest mountains wear only his skin? Or a woman living in the desert attempt to fish for sustenance? No. Our location and the type of land we dwell upon dictate culture to us.”
“But what of miners who pull tons of gold and silver from the earth, do they not change their surroundings?”
Pytheas nodded, impressed at Simon’s line of logic. “Miners find that the land they live in provides for them in mineral wealth, while fishermen live by the abundance of fish flesh found in the sea, lake, or river. People do change their surroundings by building huts, palaces, shrines, stables, and so on, but these cultural structures are once again decided by what types of building materials are available in the area and what sort of weather these shelters must keep at bay.”
Simon’s eyes lit up. “So nature is the key to understanding the natives and their economy.”
“And in turn humankind’s economy can ultimately determine the fate of their natural surroundings.
Pytheas nodded again, “Correct. To apply these ideas to Gadir, you must first look at where it is geographically located and then deduce what you can from the knowledge that the city is a mixture of Carthaginians and Celtiberians.”
“The city is located on a chain of three islands that are closely connected to the shoreline settlement. The port opens to the west, towards the Atlantic.”
“Good Simon, so what does this geographic knowledge tell us?”
“That we can expect to find a diverse economy that thrives on the commercial traffic from the Mediterranean and the Atlantic.”
“Good. The city is a crossroads between our world, and trade routes coming from Africa, interior Iberia and Europa, as well as the coast of the Atlantic. We will not only find a wide variation in culture and trade, but also a large contingent of warships making sure that Greek trade ships do not pass beyond the city. The Carthaginians have guarded their commerce closely for centuries and will not take kindly to our attempts to open trade for Greeks in Carthaginian held waters.”
Simon took these lessons very seriously and gave them much thought well past the time spent in the company of Pytheas. On the eighth day however, Simon sensed a change in the demeanor of the ship’s officer’s and crew. The air seemed alive with tension. A lone ship had appeared just after dawn on the northeastern horizon.
At first there was only a shimmering shadow in the early morning sunlight. But as time and distance progressed, the shadow solidified into the unmistakable outline of a ship. Pytheas, Nepos, and Orpheus watched as the other ship gained on the Sea Wolf. Pytheas ordered the sail unfurled and the oarsmen into a light rhythm. The other ship continued to close the distance. Simon stood watching in awe at the speed at which the trailing ship sailed.
Finally he found his voice, “What manner of vessel is she?”
Pytheas turned from the ensuing chase, “I am not familiar with that make, Orpheus?”
“We have been free of any pursuers until today,” Orpheus shook his head, “we haven’t seen any other ships or settlements in days, who could have tracked us, if that ship truly is attempting to catch us?”
Nepos finally turned towards the others, “the ship is well constructed and her crew appears to be very capable. Her sail configuration and the territory we find ourselves currently sailing through would lead me to believe that she is either Carthaginian or a native vessel applying principles of shipbuilding borrowed from the Carthaginians. It could very well be the ship we witnessed entering the Emporian Harbor eight days past.”
“If you are certain of this Nepos, and I am not convinced as of yet that you’re correct, what would you have me order?” Pytheas asked.
“We could always slow our progress to allow a more certain identification of the other ship.”
“Or?”
“Or we change our heading, tack to the southeast to determine the other ship’s intentions.”
Orpheus nodded, “I like the latter, considering the fact that they will either alter their course to ours if they mean us harm, and at the same time will lessen the space between us to allow us to identify the ship’s origin.”
“I agree. South by southeast, Nepos.” Pytheas ordered.
“Helmsman, change course south by southeast!”
“Aye sir, changing course!” The helmsman turned the ship smoothly out to sea and away from the Iberian coast.
“Let’s see what our friends out there do.” Nepos muttered as Simon approached.
“Colonel, what’ll we do if they do change course, can we out run them?”
“Not likely. Their ship is a warship of some new fashion and is meant to intercept. We’ll be forced into a fight if they choose to press us.”
The Sea Wolf moved farther offshore and into a southerly wind. The other ship continued along the coast for several miles, allowing the sea currents to pull it faster.
Nepos reported back to Pytheas, “Sir, I am quite certain that the other ship is Carthaginian, but if it is truly an interceptor, it has not altered course to follow us.”
“We may have been over reacting. This stretch of coast sees many ships from all over the Mediterranean.” Orpheus mused.
“True, but the timing of her appearance on the horizon while the sun’s glare impaired our ability to spot her is suspicious at best.” Pytheas countered.
“I’d have to agree with you, Pytheas,” Nepos said, “These waters are more likely to see a Carthaginian patrol attempting to enforce the renewed blockade.”
Suddenly, the presumed interceptor sharply turned, its protruding oars prickling like a pincushion, every oar pinioning in unison up and slashing down through the water in rapid succession. The speed that she moved at alarmed even the seasoned veterans on the Sea Wolf. Pytheas’ oarsmen needed little prompting when their Captain ordered for full speed. He ordered the helmsman to again alter course into a southwesterly heading, again tacking away from their pursuer. Orpheus and Nepos were barking orders to the crew, ensuring the men kept their attention on their work and off the other ship. Pytheas peered across the ever-dwindling space between the ships. Simon assisted the helmsman in maintaining course and relaying updates of the speed at which they were racing. The Iberian coastline slid by as the Sea Wolf and her Carthaginian shadow. The day passed into midday as the other ship closed the expanse. Simon could see the distinct shapes of the crew swiftly moving across the opposing ship’s deck; her oars flashing over the water.
All of the attention of the crew and officers was on their work and the ship behind them that only belatedly did anyone realize what lay ahead of them were the towering cliffs of the Pillars of Hercules. The chase had brought the Sea Wolf only a few kilometers off the Iberian coastline where the sea currents were surprisingly surging out through the straits while only kilometers farther from shore the currents were known to flow powerfully east into the Mediterranean. The Carthaginian ship was now within hailing distance, however they did not appear to be interested in discussion. The Carthaginian ship’s commander could be seen, distinct from the other men aboard due to his standing firm on his bridge, giving orders every now and then.
Pytheas’ eyes were on fire. He had realized too late that the Carthaginian ship intended to destroy the Sea Wolf and kill her crew. As the enemy ship closed the remaining distance, Pytheas and Nepos ordered one last tacking maneuver to the north. The pursuers immediately placed the bronze embossed battering ram of their interceptor’s prow directly at the center, broadside of the Sea Wolf. The remaining meters were overtaken within seconds, giving the crew of the Sea Wolf little chance to brace for the impact.
Simon could hear Nepos bellowing above the wind and noise, “Turn her in towards the beach!” The helmsman had already started to steer the vessel.
A long cracking sounded, as the hull of the ship was ripped apart with the sudden impact of the ram. Suddenly Simon was thrown forward across the deck. Men were hurled to the deck and struggled to regain their footing.
Nepos was the first to do so as the ship began listing from a large tear on the side of the collision. “Get up you fools! These sons of whores will have to pay with their own blood!!!” He ran forward, with Pytheas and Orpheus trailing only by a few paces, each man screaming curses at their attackers.
Pytheas’ sword flashed and parried as succinctly as if he had lived and trained in the Greek armies all his life. Orpheus and Nepos were quickly surrounded by a throng of Carthaginian warriors swarming over the railings and onto the shuddering deck. Simon found Lineus laying with an arrow in his left lower leg. They scrabbled to their feet, each holding a sword as Simon fought the ship’s ever increasing convulsions. The enemy ship had hooked its claws into the once fine grained wood of the Sea Wolf’s hull, deck, and railings with grappling irons, pin cushioned with dozens of arrows, javelin, and spears.
Pytheas swung his sword towards his opponent who expertly parried and stepped forward, advancing. Pytheas realized that his abilities might be less than that of the man he fought. His men fought bravely against the Carthaginian forces, but were outnumbered and obviously less experienced in the art of war. He ducked just as his enemy’s weapon whistled over his left ear. He felt a slight sting with a successively numbing feeling along his temple. He had no time to think about that, nor anything but his own survival. Another thrust of his sword into the foe’s direction. Suddenly there was a surge of Greek resistance from the right that unsteadied the enemy’s attention for split second. The Sea Wolf’s Captain jumped forward, dispatching his opponent with a flip of the wrist that brought his blade across the Carthaginian’s throat. The man’s eyes bulged, hands dropping his weapon to furtively attempt to catch the bright crimson pouring out of the inflicted wound. Pytheas coolly stepped over the dying man to engage another combatant.
He could observe Orpheus and Nepos carving through the enemy forces. The Greek forces flowed with the First and Second Officers in the lead. It appeared to Pytheas that the Carthaginians might retreat. Just as the thought occurred, however, a fresh contingent of reserves poured from the enemy vessel. Pytheas ran from the remains of his duel to his crew to take command of the counter offensive.
Orpheus was bleeding from several wounds, as was Nepos. Pytheas rejoined them as the newest wave of Carthaginians crashed into them. The taste of sea salt, sweat, the bitter iron of blood mixed with bile rising from the depths of a man’s vitals permeated the combatants and the ships locked together. Many men now lay dead or dying, both Massaliot and Carthaginian. Men of noble and low birth fought and died, their blood mixing freely on swords and ship’s deck.
“We may lose the ship to these swine, Pytheas,” yelled Orpheus over the din of battle.
Nepos grunted as he slashed upward into the chest of an approaching foeman. “Aye Captain, we may want to consider a strategic retreat, we have inferior numbers and the Sea Wolf won’t last much longer, I’m afraid.”
“Very well.” Pytheas breath rasped. Fall back on the starboard side and attempt some semblance of order in the abandoning.”
With that order Nepos ran along the line of Massaliots. “Fall Back Men, to the Starboard, Make Haste!” He waved his sword, just then a Carthaginian arrow struck Nepos in the upper chest. He roared in agony and anger, sword remaining at the ready.
Orpheus and Pytheas ran to assist their comrade but were turned away when another group of Carthaginians intercepted them. The remaining crew had already broken off from the battle to begin the abandonment of their ship. Pytheas and Orpheus were then separated as the smoke thickened around them. There was no sign of Nepos. The scene was of utter anarchy. Pytheas angrily and repeatedly engaged the enemy through the smoke, killing and maiming, moving in a deadly slashing, thrusting dance. The roar of the fire blazing and the successive wall of heat emanating from the inferno caused its own wind that whipped the clothes of the sailors, cinders raining down.
Lineus tried to speak to the youth. “Take me closer to the officer’s cabin, Simon,” the old man rasped, “before we are completely over run. I have to try to save what we can of the maps, even if it means setting them afire.”
“I’ll go, you’re barely able to walk.” Simon’s face hardened and sent the old man with other crewmen and ran in the direction of the cabin. Just as he reached the cabin a large Carthaginian careened into him, enough to force the air out of Simon’s lungs. They fell into a tangled heap of arms, legs, and a clanging of dropped weapons on the deck. Grappling with one another, finally struggling, the large man was on top. His neck and arm, thickly corded with muscle, the Carthaginian began wringing the younger man’s neck. Simon’s arms went flailing outstretched, grasping for anything to extricate himself from his assailant. His right hand, he realized was wet with something sticky and then his left hand lay hold of something solid, which he strained to lift up. Suddenly his foe stopped struggling. Simon peered up and saw his attacker’s eyes rolled up into their sockets, face pale, blood dribbling from his mouth. A long knife sticking from behind his right ear, the man fell away. Simon’s hand still holding the handle of the blade that he barely remembered picking up.
He arose to find that his right arm hung useless at his side. The battle seethed around him, the tide of the melee was alarmingly in favor of the interceptor’s crew. The Sea Wolf was taking on water and would certainly sink. He struggled the remaining paces to the officers’ cabin. Inside, the interior had already been set on fire. He ran across the room, flames licking at his clothes. He found some of Pytheas’ equipment in a pool of burning lamp oil. He tried to reach in and lay hand on at least the stadia used to measure one’s position on the earth, but the heat and increasing plumes of smoke forced him back out of the inferno. He coughed and sputtered as he jogged back out onto the deck. The dead from both sides lie on the deck, over the railings, and down the stairs leading into the hold. Sticky, dark blood covered the deck. The ship was now starting to descend under the roiling sea. Not many men from the doomed ship were present, standing and fighting. Along with the cabin, the ship’s single sail and mast were ablaze. The sun was blotted out with the thick black smoke
Seemingly out of nowhere, Pytheas appeared next to Simon from the smoke. A deep gash above his right eye was bleeding. “Simon, what are you still doing aboard ship!? I ordered all crew and officers to abandon ship. Make for the beach, it isn’t more than a few hundred meters.” He roughly shoved Simon to the edge of the deck. “Good luck lad.” And unceremoniously the Commander pushed the young man into the water.
Just then, the ship lurched and abruptly snapped from the weight of the water in the hold of the sunken end. The ship’s timber groaned as the back half of the vessel sank below the waves. Pytheas was thrown into the water while the interceptor’s crew rushed back onto their deck, leaving many of their own wounded to share the fate of the Sea Wolf.
Simon turned his back on the ruined ship and swam with what was remaining of his deteriorating strength away from the wreck. As a young boy, he had been told stories of men sucked under with a sinking ship. He fully intended on being as far as he could be from the Sea Wolf as she slid under. The black smoke of the dying ship hung in the air, men and odd assortments of the ship’s contents began bobbing on the surface of the water as the day’s sun dipped into a mid-afternoon haze. The sound of men swimming and the wounded or dying calling out for help beckoned Simon on from the sinking ship.
The swim was long and difficult. Simon with the assistance of a small number of able bodied survivors strapped together some of the floating debris from the Sea Wolf, constructing a makeshift raft to pull the wounded onto. Swimming slowly toward them, Lineus climbed on the raft with a number of other wounded. The able men swam, pushing the raft towards the beach only a hundred meters distant. The din of battle died away, the only sound in the ears of the survivors was a rush of air and water from the surf line. Lineus pointed to several other similar rafts floating away from the battle. The men began speculating as to where their attackers had gone, but none could raise a satisfactory explanation. The interceptor had pulled away from the burning hulk of the Sea Wolf to escape the whirlpool induced from the sinking ship. Now there was no sign of the Carthaginian ship.
Simon and the others pulled up onto the beach. The only measurement of the passage of time was the sun sloping away to the west, touching the sea with its incandescent light. Every man fell upon the sand and rocks from exhaustion and euphoria alike, at the day’s carnage and struggle, and ultimate survival. Each man lay where the surf had carried him, either unconscious or fatigued. Simon could not imagine battle being that horrible. There had been no provocation and little warning before the crew had found themselves in a fight for survival. He did not know what might happen now that their ship was lost and a majority of the crew was killed. He didn’t even know if any of their ranking officers were alive. The remainder of the day and ensuing night Simon, Lineus, and other groups of surviving crew and officers coalesced. Simon was surprised to find a good number of men alive, if a little worse for the wear. In all there were fourteen men huddled together. The decision to move inland over the first series of sand dunes was made immediately to ensure their camp could not be viewed by passing vessels.
The following morning, with the sun just climbing above the eastern horizon brought more dark news. Lineus, ranking officer of the rabble ordered a two man reconnaissance team to determine whether there was any present danger and to collect any straggling crewmen yet unaccounted for. In the process, they discovered six corpses of dead comrades and two slain enemy along the sea shoals. The reconnaissance team returned with their report, there were no ships within sight. Lineus and Simon discussed the next move. They agreed that there was yet a hazard of being caught unaware while they went to collect their fallen crewmates but there was little doubt in any man’s mind of the importance in giving the dead a proper burial.
With Simon’s assistance, Lineus, wounded from the arrow shot led the troop of crewmen back down onto the sandy shoals and ensured their dead were given a burial in the dunes. Unfortunately there were no bullocks available to sacrifice to Neptune and Mercury, however it was Simon’s opinion that they had already sacrificed enough the day prior. The men were understandably somber in disposition. The questions on every man’s mind must have followed a similar line of logic. They had not seen or heard from Pytheas, Nepos, or Orpheus and they were without ship, supplies, and their mission was at best postponed. The journey back to Emporia would take weeks and many of the men were wounded and would have little chance for survival. The native tribes were of questionable loyalty and might just as soon turn the Greeks over to Carthaginian authorities for a reward, rather than aid the bedraggled men. Lineus ordered the able-bodied men to search the low grassy hills to the north for wood to make litters to carry the wounded men. This task kept the minds of the men occupied with the welfare of their mates and off the immediate problem of how to get home.
When it happened, the men were too worn down to resist. A Carthaginian marine force surrounded the men, first those healthy enough to sell and then only begrudgingly collected the wounded and hauled all fourteen survivors back to a patrol ship anchored just off shore. Simon and the others walked stiffly across the grassy dunes to the enemy ship. The men were chained together and taken below deck to man the oars on the same interceptor responsible for the Sea Wolf’s destruction.
The Carthaginian Commander stood over his new captives. “You’ll work, he said shrugging, “or you will die. I have very little patience for Greek slaves and would rather strap each of you to the bow of the ship, and I may still have my wish granted.”
The newcomers were roughly shoved onto benches where each man was chained to the deck. There was a port next to each bench through which a long oar was situated. Very little light shone through the port. The view was of nothing but the sea and shoreline. The galley was humid with sea air mixed with unwashed, bodies crowded together. Men chained to their benches had little freedom to relieve themselves in a proper manner, which in itself added to the overall stench.
A new voice that spoke perfect Ionian Greek came from the front of the galley. “Welcome my friends,” the shirtless man said as he turned towards the newcomers, “it appears that we will indeed find ourselves in the Atlantic.”
Simon was elated to find himself peering into the bloodshot, weary eyes of Pytheas. There was little time and privacy for the Greeks to speak. The Carthaginian drummer started a steady beat, which the captives instinctively, if stiffly took up with the immense oars, propelling the enemy ship through the Pillars of Hercules and towards the Atlantic port city of Gadir.
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This 325 word review has not been unlocked.
i usually don’t read this kind of stuff. i really enjoyed it. i always wonder how people can create whole new geographies in their heads. my only crticism would be some of the descriptions were a little wordy. and although this isn’t a criticism, are the references to mercury and neptune traditional? specifically, is this how those things were really practiced in ancient times? keep writing!
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Sorry I didnt review the last chapters, I actually read this one and then went back and read the others.
Overall, I adore the content of your story. The writing is interesting and engaging, and I love the colorful terms you use. I find that good word choice makes a piece much easier for the reader to get into and love. As for your flow, it was good. A little bit choppy when you transitioned from each new chapter, but you got back into it pretty quickly and recovered completely.
I was really intriged by this, and I am interested to find out what happens next in the story.
Farrah
Well I’m a poet but , You’re story drew me right in and kept me well . And I was left wanting more , so , Good job !
I think maybe in the beginning it was a bit dry but , as soon as the dialogue started it was very captivating .
You did a good job of , in a short space , developing your characters and showing their relationships and bond .
I enjoyed this very much
Thank You
N.
Again, another very well written chapter. I could find almost nothing to criticise about the writing or the storyline. You have built on the characterisation since the last chapter. The chapter is well paced and I didn’t find myself wanting to skip ahead like many other pieces on this site do.
Some of the dialogue, like the theological discussion on the nature of humanity had me thinking “Would that be how an ancient Greek would have spoken.” just with some of the terms used…
...in turn humankind’s economy can ultimately determine the fate of their natural surroundings…
...it is geographically located and then deduce what you can from the knowledge that the city is…
He coughed and sputtered as he jogged back out onto the deck. The dead from both sides lie on the deck, over the railings, and down the stairs leading into the hold. Sticky, dark blood covered the deck. - “deck” becomes a little repetative in this sequence.
Regards
JEDoherty
I’m no expert on the Classics, but all of this seems very accurate to me, and the action is engaging. There are some problems with sentence structure, for example where you join together something that should be two sentences, but you didn’t ask for grammar reviews so I won’t give examples.
The flow is good, I wanted to read on at every moment. Even when there isn’t something driving the plot forward directly, you insert some cultural atmosphere or character background to keep me interested.
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