Stowaway Slaves (5 page)

“I don't,” Olu admitted. “I'm guessing, but I've been to Latium before—a place called Caieta—and the guard's armor was very similar. I bet we crossed the border between Campania and Latium while we were in the aqueduct. Decimus . . .”

Olu reached over and slapped the young slave on the shoulder.

“What?”

“They've gone back in. Time for us to move!”

The two friends detached themselves from the temple garden and began to run for the nearest ship, ducking and rolling several times when a doorway opened and a party of rowdy sailors spilled out.

Scrabbling in the dirt, Olu managed to drag himself behind a small collection of barrels mere seconds before one of the sailors made a loud and worrisome remark to his companions.

“What was that?”

Three of the revelers continued to stagger toward the next inn, but one wandered over to join his swaying mate.

“I heard something; I think I saw something, too.”

Olu tried to peer out from his new hiding place without attracting any attention, but he couldn't see Decimus anywhere.
Still
, he thought,
with any luck those two sailors can't see him, either.

“Thieves, I'll bet, tryin' to get on a ship.”

The first sailor began to lurch in Olu's direction. His companion tried to do the same, but quickly collapsed into the dirt. As Olu slowly moved himself even farther behind the barrels, he saw the sailor flop about in the dirt and attempt to get up several times before he finally passed out.

Unfortunately, the same could not be said for the first, who was advancing on Olu's position with surprising speed, and now seemed to be armed with a short sword. He had to get away.

Olu leaped to his feet and ran, but he stumbled across a barrel that had fallen over behind the others and crashed to the ground in a heap. The sailor was on him in seconds.

“You there! Hold up, thief!”

The sailor charged forward, but Decimus emerged from the shadows, clearing the barrels in one swift jump and landing heavily on the big man's back. Olu looked on in horror as Decimus snatched the sailor's head and twisted it with all his might. The sword clattered to the ground, and the sailor hit the dirt with a dull thud.

“W-what-what—”

“You'd have preferred he ran you through with his blade?” Decimus snapped. “Now come on, we need to move him before that other one wakes up, and then we must get on a ship! There's no time for shock, do you hear me? There's no TIME!”

Olu raced after his friend, the scene playing over and over in his mind. He couldn't believe how strong Decimus had grown since they'd met on the first day at the arena. Evidently, the numerous trials, battles, and ferocious combats had turned his friend into a formidable warrior. Together, they headed for the nearest ship, dragging the body of the sailor along with them and trying to keep to the shadows.

“Leave him there,” Olu whispered as he and Decimus deposited their victim behind an untidy heap of tangled fishing nets. “With any luck, they won't find him until morning.”

Decimus nodded, returning his attention to the ships in the harbor.

“The third ship,” he said. “That's the one we need to get on. I was watching them all from the temple garden, and the others have skeleton crews still manning them. I haven't seen any movement on the third one at all.”

“What type of ship is it?” Olu wondered aloud, squinting at the distant shape. “I'm useless at ships. Don't know the first thing about them.”

“Me neither,” Decimus admitted. “But it doesn't really matter—the only thing that matters is whether or not we get discovered on board. So let's find ourselves a good hiding place.”

“You can try, boys,” said a voice behind them. “But not before we've handed you in to the guards and made some nice Denarii.”

Decimus and Olu both turned very slowly, but they couldn't see anyone around them. A grim silence settled in the shadows as the two slaves looked left and right, down at their feet and, finally, up at the ship that was outlined above them. Unfortunately, they saw the two smiling pirates leaning over the deck of the ship too late to avoid the net that was quickly dropped on top of them.

Olu struggled wildly with the heavy ropes, but Decimus knew enough about fishing nets to know that struggling would just get them more entangled, so he relaxed and quickly urged Olu to do the same.

A few seconds later, the pirates were standing beside them, their eyes reflecting the gleam of coins they could already imagine filling their pockets.

“Up,” said the first pirate, dragging Decimus and Olu onto their feet. “Me and me mate here will share your reward money . . . the others'll be sorry they went ashore when they see what they missed out on.”

“Slump down,” Decimus whispered to Olu. “Make yourself as heavy as possible—dead weight! Dead weight!”

The first pirate soon realized he didn't have the strength to lift the net and both boys together, so he motioned to his companion to help. Combining their efforts, they managed to drag the pair upright, but not before Decimus had used the delay to loop one square in his own part of the net over the giant mooring ring that tethered the boat to the harbor.

“Move!”

The pirates dragged Decimus and Olu forward, but soon realized that they couldn't progress any farther than a few feet. The larger of the two men immediately assumed that Decimus was holding himself back; he reached through the net and grasped the young slave by his throat, shaking him vigorously before moving on to Olu and repeating the action.

“NOW MOVE YOURSELVES!” he boomed as the other pirate joined him in a renewed effort to drag them away.

Again, the boys staggered a short distance before coming to an abrupt and immovable halt.

“Net must be snagged on something,” said the first, but as he went back to investigate, Decimus grabbed his arm through the net and threw all his weight into the man. Sensing the point of the attack, Olu charged into his friend's back, giving the young slave enough momentum to drive the pirate over the edge of the dock. The big man toppled backward and plummeted between the ship and dock, with Decimus and Olu tumbling after him. Realizing that his companion and the highly valuable slaves were all going over the edge, the second pirate dived after them. He grabbed the end of the net and was dragged along for the ride.

The first pirate met a terrible fate; he had fallen onto a pole that jutted from the water.

Decimus and Olu were caught in the net, which was both good and bad news for them. The good news was that Decimus had hooked the net firmly to the mooring ring, so there was no chance of them falling. The bad news was that the second pirate had managed to hang on to the outside of the net, and had produced a dagger, which he was using in an attempt to cut through the ropes.

“Punch him!” Decimus cried at Olu, trying to spur his friend into action. “Shake him off!”

“I can't!” Olu yelled, moving his arm as the pirate's knife blade missed the rope and cut into him. “I can just barely hold on as it is!”

Decimus let go of his side of the net and leaped onto Olu's back. The skinny slave gasped in surprise and fought to hold onto the ropes as Decimus climbed over him and, grasping the net tightly in both hands, drove himself forward and slammed his forehead into the face of the struggling attacker.

A spray of blood flew from the pirate's nose, and he dropped the dagger. This time, however, Olu's reactions were just as quick as those of his friend. The slave reached through the net, caught the dagger, and plunged it into the leg of the pirate.

“Argghhhh! You little—”

He didn't finish the curse; Decimus slammed a fist into his jaw and he fell into the water.

Decimus faltered for a moment and lost his grip on the net, but Olu grabbed hold of him.

“Wh-what now?” the skinny slave whispered.

Decimus took a few seconds to catch his breath.

“We cut ourselves out of here and climb back onto the dock,” he muttered. “Then we should try and sneak aboard the third ship, like we planned; I certainly don't want to take on more pirates from
that
crew.”

A
rgon the Gaul looked down at his bruised, swollen wrists, and winced. A series of ropes, chains, and buckles had taken their toll on his flesh, and they conspired with the scars and burns on his back to form a detailed map of agony.

He looked across at the others, but they all seemed equally pained and exhausted. Teo was picking some dirt from his toenails, Ruma was scratching at one of the walls with a tiny shard of splintered wood, and Gladius was slumped in a corner, scratching his belly and moaning about Decimus and Olu betraying them all.

“Oh shut up, will you?” Argon snapped, struggling to his feet and stomping over to the room's heavily barred window. “I'm sick and tired of hearing about it. They've escaped, okay? Good for them. It's not their fault Slavious Doom's bloodhound has a sick sense of humor—I mean, how could they possibly know he'd do something like this? Besides, you're always changing your mind about Decimus—one minute he's your best friend and the next he's stabbed us all in the back. Make up your mind, will you?”

“Do you really think Hain will execute us?” said Ruma. The Etrurian had been silent for most of the morning, so his words drew immediate glances from Gladius and Teo.

“Of course he will,” Argon confirmed. “The man's a monster or a lunatic or worse.”

“Yeah,” said Gladius, sulkily. “Some of the stories about his brutality have to be made up, though. Surely no one can be THAT bad?”

“You're willing to bet your life, are you?” Argon muttered. “What's left of it, anyway . . .”