Carthaginian Empire – Episode 3: Shipwrights
By: David Bowman
ISBN: 978-1-877546-80-8
All rights reserved
Copyright © Jul. 2008, David Bowman
Cover Art Copyright © Jul 2009, Brightling Spur
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Dedication
History is written by the winners; for if treason succeeds none dare call it treason? I find the concepts this reveals to be fascinating. I can bore the teeth off anyone at twenty paces at parties if you get me going. Hopefully I won’t bore you here. My thanks to the team at Bluewood Publishing for giving me the opportunity to put my theories into practice. My thanks as ever to the people who encouraged me to write as a means of escaping the sometimes dreadful realities of life. I truly hope you enjoy reading these stories as much as I did writing them.
Carthaginian Empire – Episode 3: Shipwrights
It had been nearly three years since Elfdeer had seen her homeland. Hanno watched indulgently as his tiny junior wife climbed as high on the prow of his oaken galley as she possibly could in order to catch the first glimpse of land. Their sturdy little seven year old boy was desperate to climb to the same vantage point as his mother but he could not reach the necessary handholds. With the lively motion of the galley as it began to buck in the cross swell created by the mixture of tide and current the sailor assigned the duty of looking after him was not going to assist the would be little climber in his endeavour.
“Land, land, I see land!” Elfdeer squealed in excitement just as she had done on her last return.
Some of the crew frowned; it was considered bad luck to allow a woman to see land first. The more knowledgeable among them however looked up, there above them shackled to the mast the lookout had been silently pointing towards land for several minutes thereby averting the bad luck.
The galley although recognisable as being similar to the ones sailed here ten years earlier was in some ways different. It was also vastly superior. Framed entirely of oak and several metres longer it was much more stable on the open ocean. The mast was now mounted slightly aft of amidships and was twice as tall. The little ocean going ketch captured with Sagun had yielded improvements to the rigging and sail layout to the point that the vessel was much quicker too.
Bouncing with excitement, Elfdeer sprang down from her perch above the deck, the ten years and three children had not dulled her graceful movements and the crew watched with awe as the still beautiful woman danced and pirouetted around the enclosed foredeck with her young son in tow.
* * * *
Two days later, they had beaten up the coast in a freshening wind and after rounding the headland crossed the bay towards the recently built harbour. The jetties ran further out to sea than ever and behind the sand bar protecting the lagoon a veritable forest of bare timbers clearly demonstrated where the new fleet was well under construction.
As ever the news of their sighting had travelled overland faster than they could cross the water and Anogretix was waiting for them on the main jetty. Now approaching his final years, his hair was almost completely grey. The beard was as full as ever even though it was as grey as the hair on his head. Despite his advancing age he was still the ‘bull’ of the tribe and the massive sinews of his arms flexed as he waved his spear and shield in welcome of Hanno and his ship.
“Hanno!”
The bellow was just as loud as ever.
The small shape of his daughter suddenly sprang into view from where she had hidden behind the bulwark of the galley.
“Elfdeer!” The shout was as loud but also far more joyful as he recognised her.
“Your hair may be greyer old man but there is nothing wrong with your eyesight!” Hanno shouted back as the galley closed with the shore.
The old chief roared with laughter at this and turning screamed at his tribesmen to prepare the feast. Mead soaked celebration was on his mind, but at that moment the galley nosed gently into the jetty and the small form of his daughter and the even smaller one of his grandson were sprinting towards him.
* * * *
That evening after the mead had passed around the fire several times and at least half the roast cow had gone it was time to get down to serious business. Elfdeer had disappeared over to the women’s fire with her female relatives to talk about all of the things she had seen and done. Many of the warriors had retired for the night leaving only Anogretix, Hanno and a couple of the senior tribesmen sitting around the fire. The Durotriges language came easily to Hanno now, after this many years but still sounded guttural to his ears.
“Are we set for the conclave then?” Hanno opened the discussion.
“Ready and more than ready, my men are eager to demonstrate their prowess. With the improvements you suggested for the Mai Dan there is no tribe in this land that dare challenge us. You must see it tomorrow.”
“Good”
“As soon as your ships were sighted we sent runners off carrying the bound spears to the Cornovii, Dumnonii and Belgae. They have long been waiting for the call; they understand the importance. We will meet at the Mai Dan in fourteen days.”
“Excellent that gives us enough time to move my latest present from the ships to the Mai Dan.”
“You have brought us the catapults then?”