In the Heart of Darkness(142)

Hurriedly, Valentinian fired again. This time, cursed bitterly. He had missed completely—his shot sailing ten feet over the enemy's deck.



Meantime, Belisarius set another corbita's rigging aflame. Then, after two misses, set another aflame.



They were surrounded by enemy ships, now, several of them within bow range. Arrows were pouring down on them like a hail storm. The rowers' shelter sprouted arrows like a porcupine. In his own little cabin at the stern of the ship, the steering officer was crouched low. The thin walls of his shelter had been penetrated by several arrow-heads. But he kept calling out his orders, calmly and loudly.



Arrows thunked into the walls of the wood-castle. Fortunately, due to the height of the fighting platform, the men on it were sheltered from arrows fired on a flat trajectory from the low-hulled corbita. But some of those arrows, fired by better or simply luckier archers, were coming in on an arched trajectory.



One of the windlass-crankers suddenly cried out in pain. An arrow had looped over the walls and plunged into his shoulder. He fell—partly from pain, and partly from a desire to find shelter beneath the low wall. His relief immediately stepped forward and began frantically cranking the windlass.



As he waited—and to give himself something to think about other than oncoming missiles—Belisarius watched Valentinian fire a third firebomb at the same misbegotten corbita.



Belisarius had never seen Valentinian miss anything, three times in a row. He didn't now, either. The shot was perfect. The firebomb hit the rail right before the mast, spewing death over the deck and destruction into the rigging.



His loader:



"Ready!"



Belisarius turned, aimed—



Nothing. Empty sea.



They had sailed right through the enemy fleet.



A movement in the corner of his eye. He swiveled the scorpion hurriedly, aimed—



A dromon, scudding across the waves, right toward them. John of Rhodes, standing in the bow, hands on hips, scowling fiercely.



His first words, in the powerful carrying voice of an experienced naval officer:



"Are you out of your fucking mind?"



His next:



"You could have wrecked my ship!"





A minute later, after the galley was drawn alongside, the Rhodesman scampered aboard and stalked across the deck. Before he even reached Belisarius, he was gesturing with his hands. Making an odd sort of motion, as if cutting one hand with the other.



"What were you thinking?" he demanded hotly. "What were you thinking?" In full stump now, back and forth, back and forth: "Imbecile! This is a fucking artillery ship!" One hand sawing across the other: "In the name of God! Even a fucking general should have been able to figure it out! Even a fucking landsman! You stay away from the fucking enemy! You try to bring your artillery to bear without getting close! You—you—"



Hands sawing, hands sawing.



Belisarius, smiling crookedly: "Like 'crossing a T,' you mean to say?"



John's eyes widened. His hands paused in their sawing. Fury faded, replaced by interest.



"Hey. That's a good way of putting it. I like that. 'Crossing the T.' Got a nice ring to it."



Another voice. Sulky. Self-satisfied:



I told you so.



Belisarius chuckled.



"I suppose my naval tactics were a bit primitive," he admitted.



Image:



A man. Stooped, filthy, clad in rough-cured animal skins. In his hand he clutches an axe. The blade of the weapon is a crudely shaped piece of stone, lashed to the handle with rawhide.



He is standing on a log, rolling wildly down a river. Hammering fiercely at another man, armed and clad as he is, standing on the same log.



Stone ax against stone ax.



Just ahead is a waterfall.





Chapter 26




After Belisarius and Valentinian were aboard the dromon, Belisarius stared up at John of Rhodes standing on the pamphylos' wood-castle.



"Are you certain, John?" he asked.



The naval officer nodded his head firmly.



"Be off, Belisarius!" Then, with a wicked grin:



"I'll say this much—you may be the craziest ship captain who ever tried to commit suicide, and certainly the most lethal."



He waved his hand about, encompassing half the Bosporus in that gesture.



"You destroyed six out of the eight akatoi and another half dozen corbita. And I sank three corbita with the galley. That's well over a third of Aegidius' entire army and three-fourths of his cataphracts. Look at them!"



Belisarius scanned the Bosporus. Even to his landsman's eye, it was obvious that the enemy fleet was scattering in fear and confusion.



A sudden thought came to his mind. John voiced it before he could speak.