The Last of the Romans by Derek Birks

Author:Derek Birks [Birks, Derek]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sharpe Books
Published: 2019-08-26T04:00:00+00:00

Part Four: Ships and Harbour

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25

November 454 in the morning, in the port of Caracotinum

When he managed to tear his gaze from the chaos at the northern docks, Onno looked away to the far southern end of the harbour where, by contrast, there appeared to be hardly any ships at all.

“What’s along there?” he asked Prosperus, squinting at the area towards the harbour entrance.

“Just the old ship repair yards,” replied Prosperus, “but they’re hardly used and, as you can see from here, there’s nothing there now.”

But Onno was not so sure. “You can’t tell from here,” he said, almost to himself. “I think I see a mast. Come on.”

Hurrying along the narrow wooden strip which ran alongside the harbour wall, he came to a sudden halt when he reached the remains of the structure which lay at the extreme southern end of it. Prosperus was quite wrong about it: what faced him was wholly undeserving of the term ship repair yard – ship grave yard might have been more appropriate! Though it might once have used to build or repair vessels, it was not much more than a rubbish heap now. Several floating platforms still jutted out at right angles to the harbour wall, but the bays between them served only to collect some of the objects which had drifted into the harbour.

With some caution, Onno stepped onto the nearest of the pontoons and it seemed stable enough, but he could see at a glance that many of the others had been rotting away for half a lifetime. As he clambered from one bay to the next, all he found was floating timber debris. Here and there on the platforms, heaps of bent nails had formed small, rusting, iron humps which over time had welded themselves to the timber boards.

“Come, Onno,” urged Caralla. “Prosperus was right: there’s nothing for us here…”

Onno could hardly disagree, for even the mast he thought he saw turned out to be a broken one abandoned against the harbour wall. But as he turned to follow Prosperus and Caralla back to the main docks, a voice snarled at them.

“Hey! This area’s private! Get out!”

Though they could hear the voice, they could not see its owner.

“Show yourself, man!” ordered Onno and at once a bald head popped up from within the carcass of a low vessel he had not even noticed at the far end of the yard.

“What do you want here?” the stranger growled at them. “This is a priv-”

“Yes, a private dock,” said Onno, making straight for the man. “We heard! We’re looking for a ship – are there any vessels here that might be seaworthy?”

“Piss off!”

“We’re in trouble, friend,” said Onno, gesturing towards the town. “Have you not seen how the whole of Caracotinum is in uproar?”

“Uproar?” repeated the fellow, in confusion. “What uproar?

“The Franks are sacking the town,” Onno informed him.

When the man attempted to stand up but failed, Onno at once diagnosed his condition. “You’re drunk!”

“I’m drunk?” mimicked the seaman. “You’re the one

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