Chasing Blue- The Final Saga (Book 4)

Chapter 8: Troubled Waters

Day XVIX

Dear journal,

I could not come up with the right words to say to Philemon. I suppose there was nothing else to be said. He was right. I had not truly meant my apology. Not when I wished him ill fate. I was sorry at the moment but I could not take back the words I uttered the night before. Neither could I take back the dice that was thrown at him, coming to the tavern in Crete, or breaking into the "hole" to free Romeos' father from prison. I was not truly sorry for neither of those events, just sorry for the events that transpired. Perhaps those events were supposed to happen. Maybe fate was telling me something.

Urgghhh... The gurgling sounds of my stomach interrupted my thoughts; forcing me to concentrate on survival. I wondered what food was left for me as I found myself towards the end of the line next to Clitus. Hunger was only a grumble away.

"We used to be able to serve ourselves after the first week. Why a server?" I muttered.

"To weigh the food," Clitus replied in a low tone. Sometimes you had to strain to hear him amongst the boisterous conversations.

"How could I forget about the rations?" I sighed aloud. The line slowly moved up till it finally got to Marius who was ahead of Clitus. Marius eagerly patted his paunch as the server plopped a small slab of hard bread and shriveled up figs in his mahogany clay bowl.

"Could I have some more bread?" Marius asked.

"Sorry. You only get one piece for the day," the server replied dryly, before pointing his gangly fingers at the few men who stood in the line behind us.

"I know but a little piece of bread is not going to satisfy ole Marius for the whole day," he uttered with his usual good-natured smile.

"I am sorry. But you are holding up the line," the server replied in a crisp tone. I watched Marius' once happy countenance falter. As my turn came I quietly thanked the server for the food. I gathered my bowl and crouched down next to Clitus who was quietly nibbling on his cluster of figs.

"I assume you report back to Philemon after breakfast," I replied in between bites. He nodded, revealing golden hues in his hair. "I am afraid Philemon will not believe me, but maybe you can tell him that I am sorry for everything I ever done to upset him."

"If he does not want to listen to you, what makes you think he will listen to a slave?" he asked. Then Clitus went back to nibbling his figs.

"Well...I thought maybe your answer...forget I ask," I muttered. That was such a stupid proposition. Clitus was right and I felt stupid for even asking. Why could I not let this go? Philemon hates me; that was apparent. But it bothered me knowing that old wounds were still festering; unhealed. However, those were not the only wounds that were about to be opened.

The fishermen had become increasingly important as they turned their long-winded nets to catch whatever fish they could find. It was the only real meat there was to eat and what supplemented our meager meals. While the fishermen would haul the fish onboard, I watched as the seagulls swarmed in ready to steal our catch. Danaeus and some of the other fishermen would chase away the birds with brooms. I would watch Marius chuckle as Danaeus flailed the husk brooms at the scavengers. Eventually I could not help but giggle with Marius, who seemed to delight even in the simplest of pleasures. One day while I was watching the fishermen haul the fish onto deck, one of the fish wiggled free from the netting and slapped around the deck gasping for air from its tiny gills. I stood watching it as Marius came up out of nowhere and scooped up the fish in his meaty grasp.

"What do you think you are doing?" Jason exclaimed.

"I was just putting the fish back," Marius shrugged with the fish wiggling in his left fist.