Captain of Rome (23 page)

‘Roman!’ he shouted, fear evident in his voice, a fear that rippled across the entire deck.

‘Prepare for battle!’ Narmer roared without hesitation. ‘Orders to the rowers, battle speed!’

He looked again to the galley in pursuit. Narmer could see
that she was a trireme, at least four knots faster than his ship but the pirate bireme had one advantage over its bigger rival, manoeuvrability, and Narmer knew how to exploit it. Battle would soon be joined but Narmer was determined that it would be on his terms.

‘She’s accelerated to battle speed!’

Atticus nodded at Lucius’s words, noticing the change himself.

‘Battle speed!’ he ordered and the two hundred slaves below decks responded to the drum master’s beat without visible effort, bringing the
Aquila
up to seven knots, a battle speed that was a knot faster than the bireme’s.

‘She’s a pirate?’ Septimus asked as he approached Atticus.

The captain nodded. ‘She’s not Carthaginian,’ he replied, ‘and no other galley would have cause to run.’

Septimus nodded and looked back over his shoulder, wiping the rain from his face as he did. His demi-maniple was drawn up in formation on the main deck, Drusus to their front, the
optio
seemingly oblivious to the rain that pelted off his breast-plate.

‘Then we’re ready,’ Septimus said, and he left the aft-deck once more, his stride determined and focused, his men equally so.

Atticus watched him go and then turned to the helmsman.

‘What do you think?’ he asked

‘She’s quick,’ Gaius said, his intense gaze locked on the target.

‘But not quick enough,’ Atticus replied, no humour in his voice as his mind inventoried every capability of the
Aquila
and how they could be sequenced to run down her prey.

‘She’ll try to cut inside,’ Gaius continued, ‘maybe to sweep our oars or simply escape.’

‘Can we cut inside her?’ Atticus asked, trusting Gaius’s
judgement over all others when it came to close quarter sailing. There were many different galley types, some of them unique, and it was impossible to apply a general rule of attack, the variations in speed and manoeuvrability too great. Only now, with a ship in his sights, could a skilled helmsman properly formulate an attack.

‘There’s only one way we can cut inside her,’ Gaius said, ‘and even then we need to anticipate her turn. Otherwise she’s too nimble.’

Atticus nodded, as his mind narrowed the options in the face of Gaius’s assessment. The manoeuvre Gaius was implicitly suggesting had been practiced many times by the crew of the
Aquila
but had never been used in actual combat. Atticus could see no other option against a galley as manoeuvrable as the pirate’s.

‘They’ll need to be close,’ he said aloud as he weighed the odds.

Gaius nodded, ‘They’ll never see it coming.’

‘If it works,’ Atticus remarked almost to himself. ‘If it doesn’t we’ll have handed them the advantage and maybe the fight.’

Gaius remained silent as he waited for his captain to decide, glancing once more to the pirate galley, now less than two and half miles away and then back to Atticus. The choice was far from clear-cut and he didn’t envy the captain’s position. The sound of the rain hammering the deck increased as Atticus broke the silence and turned to his helmsman.

‘We do it,’ he said, total conviction in his voice. ‘Make ready the helm.’

Gaius nodded, his grip on the tiller intensifying as his eyes moved once more to the enemy.

‘You were on the aft-deck!’ Belus roared, his gaze locked on the Roman galley in pursuit. ‘How did they get so close without detection?’

‘She was sailing without running lights,’ Narmer spat, his anger at being caught compounded by the Carthaginian’s censure.

‘And the masthead lookout?’ Belus said, turning to Narmer, his eyes full of accusation and contempt.

‘He was asleep,’ Narmer said, looking past Belus to the lookout who had just descended from the masthead by his orders.

‘Asleep?’ Belus growled, his anger threatening to overwhelm him. He was about to berate Narmer further when the arrival of the lookout interrupted him.

‘Yes, Captain,’ the lookout said, trying to sound confident but his voice was laced with panic and Belus could smell the stench of fear from him.

Narmer stepped forward. ‘You were asleep,’ he accused.

‘No, Captain,’ the man stammered, what little confidence he had tried to muster now gone. ‘I just didn’t see her because of the rain.’

‘Do you see her now!’ Narmer shouted as he grabbed the lookout by the arm and pushed him towards the aft-rail.

The man stumbled but maintained his balance and he grabbed the aft-rail for support, looking out over the water to the galley bearing down on them.

‘I didn’t…’ he began, his attention captivated by the sight before him. ‘She came from nowhere…’

He turned around to plead again and found that Narmer now stood directly before him, the captain’s expression more terrifying than before, Narmer’s gaze so hypnotic that the lookout only saw the blade a heartbeat before it struck. He backed off slightly, his mind suddenly screaming in panic as awareness flooded his senses and his hands shot up to his neck, the blood drenching his fingers. He tried to scream but the sound died in his severed throat and the lookout fell
backwards over the aft-rail, striking the rudder as he fell before being swallowed by the wake of the bireme.

Narmer stepped forward and spat over the rail into the water as the lookout’s body resurfaced, the water around him stained red. He turned to face Belus, the bloodied knife still in his hand, a silent challenge passing between them. The captain would accept no more criticism from the Carthaginian.

Belus turned away and moved to the aft-rail, watching the lookout’s body until it was run over by the Roman galley advancing at seven knots. He couldn’t believe that Narmer had been so inept as to be caught so easily, especially since the captain had shown incredible skill over the previous weeks in avoiding the Roman galleys that patrolled the area. Belus knew he was partly to blame. He had noticed the change in the crew the day before when the bireme had finally turned its bow towards Tyndaris. They had become complacent, the end in sight, and Belus realised he should have confronted Narmer on the issue. Now, so close to success, Belus was faced with utter failure. He cared little for his own life, it belonged to Carthage, but the information he carried was invaluable.

Belus turned once more and looked out over the crew of the pirate galley. They were good swordsmen but they fought as individuals, relying on speed and savagery to carry a fight. Against the marines of Rome those tactics would be useless and Belus remembered his own desperate fight at Mylae. To defeat the Romans he would have to change their normal plan of attack and Belus turned to Narmer as an idea resurfaced in his mind, an idea he had formulated after witnessing the enemy attacks at Mylae. The Romans might find some way to board but for the first time Belus felt a creeping confidence that maybe the vaulted marines of Rome could be beaten.

‘Attack speed!’

The gap between the galleys was now down to a mile and as the
Aquila
accelerated to eleven knots Atticus waited for the first turn. Gaius stood firmly to his right, his feet slightly apart to brace himself, ready to throw his weight against the arm of the tiller. Lucius was stationed below deck on the shoulder of the drum master, watching the rowers intently as they pulled through the sequence of moves that defined their existence. The slaves had been forewarned of the order to come, an order no different from the many times they had practiced the manoeuvre, although this time a chain ran through the eye of the manacle on their ankles. Failure in practice had meant a lash of the whip. In the face of the enemy, shackled to the seventy-ton galley, the stakes were immeasurably higher.

The first turn came without warning, the pirate galley swinging hard to starboard. Gaius reacted without command and the
Aquila
tilted heavily underneath Atticus’s feet, the captain standing with his legs shoulder-length apart for balance. He noticed Gaius did not match the turn exactly but kept the
Aquila
on a convergent course, narrowing the gap between the galleys with every oar stroke. Atticus kept his own gaze locked on the aft-deck of the pirate ship, trying to anticipate their next move. He recalled with dread fascination the scene he had witnessed minutes before when one of the pirate crew had been thrown off the stern of the bireme, his body crushed beneath the ram of the
Aquila
as she followed the wake of the bireme relentlessly. It was a sight that would have frightened lesser crews but for the men of the
Aquila
, it merely reminded them of the ferocity of the prey they were about to hunt down, a prey far more dangerous than the Carthaginians in close quarter fighting.

The pirate galley turned again, this time to port and again
Gaius matched her course. The two galleys were now less than four-hundred yards apart, the
Aquila
’s line two points inside the bireme’s to further close the gap. The rain continued to fall, peppering the surface of the sea and striking the deck of the
Aquila
with a staccato beat, the sound filling Atticus’s ears as he tried to single out the pirate captain on the galley ahead, the distance and the water-drenched sea air thwarting his efforts.

‘Make ready!’ Atticus shouted to Gaius over the sound of the rain, knowing instinctively the pirate galley was about to commit, the distance and angles near perfect.

‘She’s turning!’ Gaius shouted, his hand steady on the tiller, his muscles tensed in anticipation. ‘She’s coming about!’

The bireme turned violently to port, coming about at an incredible speed, her agility a sight to behold as she turned her bow into the path of the
Aquila.

‘Centre the helm!’ Atticus ordered and Gaius lined the
Aquila
’s ram up with the oncoming bireme. The two galleys were now on a collision course, ram to ram, the larger trireme tearing down the line of attack.

Atticus focused his entire attention on the oncoming galley, trying to estimate the distance between the two ships, their combined speeds devouring the gap between them. The bireme had turned with an extraordinary display of manoeuvrability and Atticus was left with a lingering doubt as to the ability of his own galley. He brushed it aside, angry at his own mistrust of the
Aquila.
She had never let him down before. He looked over his shoulder to Gaius; the helmsman braced as before, holding the tiller on a centre line but ever-ready to react. The pirate’s course was suicidal and both men knew it was only a feint.

With the gap down to two hundred yards the pirate galley turned three points to port, breaking the headlong attack, a
classic manoeuvre for a more agile galley that readied her for a turn into the broadside of the
Aquila.
Gaius reacted instinctively, also turning the
Aquila
three points to port, putting the galleys on parallel course to pass each other going in opposite directions at a distance of one hundred yards, the only obvious defence for a trireme of the
Aquila
’s size.

‘Runner!’ Atticus shouted and a crewman was instantly at his side, ‘Orders to below, prepare for a turn to starboard!’ The crewman acknowledged the order and ran from the aftdeck, disappearing down the hatch that led to the rowing deck.

Atticus focused his attention on the pirate ship once more. She was now on the
Aquila
’s starboard fore quarter, less than one hundred and fifty yards away and she now held the advantage.

If the
Aquila
tried to force a fight and turn into the bireme’s course to strike her amidships the pirate galley’s agility would allow her to cut inside the turn and sweep past the
Aquila
before the trireme could bring her ram or
corvus
to bear, perhaps even striking the
Aquila
’s exposed oars as the two galleys swept past each other. On the other hand if the
Aquila
played it safe and stayed on course, she would run past the bireme and then need to turn to pursue her once more, allowing for the pirate galley to replay the entire sequence of turns once more, never allowing the
Aquila
the opportunity to engage, trumping her speed and power with agility.

The
Aquila
sped on, Gaius holding her course, while the pirate bireme did likewise, content to pass the Roman galley with one hundred yards separating their oars. Atticus stood on the aft-deck, his eyes locked on the ram of the bireme, the rain dripping from his matted hair and soaking his tunic beneath his armour. The pirate galley seemed to slow, as if the intensity of Atticus’s gaze was somehow a barrier to her
advance and Atticus’s eyes flashed to the bow of his own galley, judging the angles, his innate skill deciding in a heartbeat.

‘Now, Gaius!’ Atticus shouted without conscious thought. ‘Hard to starboard!’

The helmsman threw his weight onto the rudder, swinging it fully through the half circle that would put the galley hard over. Atticus watched the pirate galley intensely as a second passed, then another, waiting for the bireme to react, to commit to the counterturn. Again time seemed to slow and Atticus was running even as he registered the turn of the pirate galley. She was turning into the
Aquila
’s line, the speed of her course change faster than the trireme’s, a speed that would allow her to cut inside and negate the
Aquila
’s attack.

Atticus reached the hatchway in the time it took the pirate galley to commit fully to the turn. He roared down to the slave deck, the terrible gamble he was taking putting an edge of alarm to his voice, knowing a second’s delay would cost him the
Aquila.

‘Now, Lucius!’

For a heartbeat Atticus thought the command had gone unheard but then suddenly the galley, already turning slowly to port in response to the rudder, keeled over violently as the ship accelerated through the turn.

Below him on the slave deck Lucius had signalled the manoeuvre which the rowers and drum master had been drilled in so many times before in training. At the command the starboard-side rowers had thrown themselves forward, immediately raising their oars clean out of the water within one stroke. The port-side slaves continued to row, the drum master calling for ramming speed, their top stroke. With the rudder hard over and the starboard-side rowers offering no resistance, the galley turned within a half ship length, the deck listing twenty degrees from the uneven force of propulsion.