War Prize (A Roman Britain story)

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

On the twelve day of their sea voyage, the dark line of the British coast finally appeared on the distant horizon. To Aurelia, it seemed like it was rising out of the water like some colossal serpent of the deep, its malicious intent was to swallow the convoy of Roman ships in one swallow.

With one day left of sailing before they reached the port, their luck suddenly changed. That morning the sky had been a deep blue, with hardly a cloud in the sky. By the afternoon a dark band of cloud spread out towards them, like ink spilled on linen.

“It’s unnatural,” the men of the crew whispered to each other in growing rumbles of discontent. “No storm has ever formed this quickly.”

“It’s the druids,” others murmured as they watched the cloud formation suspiciously. “They send the wrath of their Gods down upon us.”

Aurelia listened to this in apprehensive silence. Before this voyage, she would have scoffed at such things. This kind of talk was spawned by religious superstition of the Roman mass. But now that she was on the ship, gazing upon the growing malice of the impending storm, her doubts grew inside of her. It was like looking into the abyss and feeling a growing sense that something was staring right back at you.

Not long after, the wind picked up. And with the wind came the rain, great icy sheets that pelted the deck and stinging the skin as they hit home. Within moments her travelling cloak and stolla, the floor length dress of dark purple silk, was wet through. The sea around them became a wreathing tumult, waves rising bigger and bigger until the ship was fighting to stay upright among it all. Nightfall was not yet upon him, yet it seemed that the sun had long since passed below the horizon.

“Domina…”

Aurelia turned at the weak tremulous voice to see Senna clinging to the ship’s rigging and looking very pale and shaking. “I’m sorry, I…” She held a hand to her mouth, and, through sheer force of will, kept the very little food she had eaten that morning from coming back up.

Aurelia went to her on unsteady feet, the floor beneath her trying its hardest to topple her. “You should be below deck with the others.”

“I shouldn’t leave your side, Domina. Your father gave me strict instructions.” She protested weakly.

“Don’t be foolish.” Aurelia managed to prise Senna’s tight grip off the rope and helped her to the door that led to the decks below. “There is nothing you can do in such a state. Get yourself dry and as comfortable as you can.”

Senna must have realised how futile it would be to argue with her and after a moment’s hesitation, she nodded and staggered down to the relatively dry confines below.

“Please, my lady, you should do the same.” The prefect, a soldier of middling years and leader of the soldiers that were travelling on board, shouted over the howling of the wind. “It would be far safer for you to seek shelter below deck.”

Aurelia shook her head, now the one to cling to the wooden side with both arms. Her dark hair was plastered to her face, rainwater running down her cheeks like tears. Those seeking shelter were the unfortunate ones who were violently ill with the swaying and battering of the waves. It wouldn’t be long before the sounds and the stench would make sure she would follow suit.

Seeing that his words fell on deaf ears, he turned to the captain who was aiding the steersman in keeping the ship facing forward towards the waves rather than letting them crash against the side and tip them over. “I can’t see the other ships of the convoy!” He shouted over the sound of the wind.

“The storm is scattering us.” The captain yelled back in his gruff voice, never taking his squinting eyes off their destination. “We’re being blown off course. I will have to land her on a beach, if Neptune favours us tonight.”

The prefect cursed bitterly, before remembering who could hear him and quickly apologised to her. She waved his words away, having heard worse in the streets of Rome. He summed up her sentiments exactly.

“How far off course?” The prefect asked the captain.

The captain shrugged. “It depends on finding a safe place to beach the ship. I won’t risk smashing her on the rocks and killing us all.”

“Sir!” one of the ship’s crew staggered towards them. “We’re taking on too much water. We’ll never make it to land at this rate!”

It was the captain’s turn to curse. “Give the order to hoist the oars and drop the sails. Let’s see if we can outrun the tempest.”

“Captain!” The man turned and began shouting out orders to the oarsman who immediately obeyed, lifting the oars and drawing them out of the water. They got in position to let the sails down and in one heave; the great sail unfurled and caught the wind. With a lurch, the ship powered forward amidst creaks and groans of the wood under the strain.

The captain turned to the prefect. “I suggest you employ your men to throwing the cargo over the side.”

The prefect blanched at his words. “That equipment belongs to the Roman legion-“

“If your men do not cast it off, I can assure you we will all perish before the night is out. So you decide, soldier.”

The prefect nodded gravely before disappearing below deck. It wasn’t long before the soldiers were lugging the crates up and chucking them over the side into the foaming sea.

Aurelia turned to the captain. “Does this improve our chances of surviving this storm?”

The captain raised his eyes to the heavens. “Let us hope that the Gods hear our pleas.”

Aurelia bit her lip in fear and turned her face away. She offered up her own prayers to the Gods, beseeching them with all her heart. It was a small mercy that the rain shielded her silent tears from any eyes.

Throughout the rest of the night the storm was unrelenting. Those that could be spared were employed in bailing out the water with buckets. Senna joined the line as they passed the buckets to and fro between them. Aurelia would have joined her if she hadn’t been pushed aside by Senna with an insulted gasp. “No, Domina, you shouldn’t. It is beneath you to do a slave’s work.” Senna insisted, rebuking her for her efforts.

The British coastline was directly opposite them to the right. She could just make out shingle beaches and the dark smudge of what must have been a tree line beyond. The crew looked in vain for a clear place to land, but there were the jagged teeth of the rocks to always block their way to safety. In all directions, it seemed to Aurelia that it was all perilous.

“Rocks! Rocks dead ahead!” The lookout screamed.

But it was too late.

In a brilliant flash of lightning, the rocks were illuminated in front of the ship’s path. There was no time to act, barely any time to think. It was with a great shuddering crash as the ship was thrown against the rock by the waves.

In the blink of an eye, Aurelia was airborne. She could only cry out, terrified that she would be smashed on the unforgiving rocks, before the icy darkness of the ocean closed over her.

Domina is the Latin word for mistress or owner.