Chapter 14

Port Caolros

The sickly-sweet stench of diseased sweat permeated the makeshift hospital wing. It was overwhelming. He made this trip every day, even with the quarantine in place, because he had to.

It was no different than standing on the main deck in the heat of combat, with shells smashing all around him, directing the battle. Danger took second place to duty.

The ward, a hastily erected structure of wood and canvas, was crammed with cots. Row after row of them. Men lay under thin blankets, their faces soaked in sweat, their breathing labored. He paused at the first row. A young sailor, eyes half-closed, twitched as he fought off a cough that threatened to overpower him. The sailor clutched a tattered scrap of cloth against his mouth. His neighbor on the adjacent cot fared little better, moaning through a fever that had left him delirious.

An orderly hurried forward with a bucket of water and set it on the plank flooring, refilling a small clay cup for him.

He recognized one of the older sailors, a man who served on the Bellona since the last war. He remembered the man’s booming laugh and jovial manner. Now the skin on his face sagged and he lay curled on his side, his breathing shallow and ragged.

“Admiral,” he said in a weak voice, trying to push himself up.

Valdar put his hand on the man’s shoulder and gently pushed him back down. “No, don’t strain yourself. You need to get better. We’re going to need you soon.”

“I’ll be ready, Admiral. At your order.”

In spite of himself, the man’s eyes closed and he shuddered slightly as he lapsed back into unconsciousness. Valdar patted his shoulder and then stepped back, looking around before heading to the tent entrance where Doctor Phelan had just entered.

“Just the man I was looking to see. It looks worse,” Valdar said, indicating the increase in the number of pads and cots from yesterday.

“It is. It’s still spreading faster than we can contain it. I believe almost fifteen percent of the port’s workforce is showing some level of symptoms now. That’s double what it was two weeks ago.”

“Are they all still sick? Is no one recovering?”

“Some pull through. Others do not. We’re losing about three in ten, but half of those who contract it are no longer fit to work even when the worst of the symptoms abate. Long-term difficulty breathing, lingering weakness, swollen bellies and faces, dropsy, even some levels of madness. The range of long-term effects has been as wide as the people it affects, and many of them have been in some form debilitating.”

“And nothing’s working to slow it? Losing half of my workforce is not something we can recover from.”

“Most of what we’ve tried has little effect, and we’re left with just trying to keep them comfortable, controlling the worst of the fever with constant bathing, and easing the coughing where we can. The only thing that looks to have any effect is the tree bark the Mpongo healers recommended to us, but even that seems to work only a fraction of the time.”

“But it is working?”

“Yes, to be clear, it isn’t a cure, but it does seem to help with the symptoms when we can get it.”

“If it works, then I will get you more. I’ll...” Valdar started to say when a young man came running into the tent, out of breath. “Easy, sailor.”

“Ad ... admiral,” he said, trying to get enough air to talk. “An urgent dispatch from the capital.”

Valdar took the folded note and opened it. The words hit him like a physical punch in the gut.

Admiral Valdar,

Ptolemaic forces have seized Maleth and several other ports along the Middle Sea. Their ships now raid our merchant vessels with impunity. You are required to return north immediately and make sail for the Middle Sea to end their piracy and retake the occupied ports.

-Her Imperial Majesty, Flavia Lucilla Germanicus, Empress of the Britannic Empire, Supreme Governor of Rome, Protector of the Realm

“You,” he said, pointing at one of the guards. “Find the port commander and any captains you can, and have them meet at the commander’s office. Send messages to any ships in the harbor, but they need to hurry. I want everyone there in twenty minutes.”

As the man ran off, Valdar finished his assessment of the men in the hospital tent, but his mind was no longer on it. He couldn’t believe the Egyptians would turncoat and support the Easterners, after everything the Empire had done to free them from the Carthaginians.

Maybe something had happened to push them that way, Valdar didn’t know. His focus had been here, expanding the reach of the Empire south to protect it from incursion before the enemy ever got to Britannia’s home water, and he was out of touch with things in the Middle Sea.

Not that any scenario Valdar could think of explained their treachery.

But, he couldn’t just go now to get things moving, even though he wanted to. Getting all of the men he’d need to talk to together would take some time. Besides, he owed it to the injured men to finish his tour.

When that time was up, however, he practically sprinted to the commander’s office, which was, in fact, a tent, one of many temporary structures still being used. With so much of the labor force ill and the forts still their main focus, the rest of the port would have to wait to be finished.