Octavian smiled more warmly at the two men he faced.
‘I think I understand the main arguments, gentlemen. But what sort of a fool would I be to accept battle against Cassius and Brutus and lose Gaul for lack of soldiers there?’
Mark Antony dismissed the point with a gesture.
‘Gaul has been peaceful for years. Caesar broke the back of their tribes and killed their leaders. There is no High King to follow Vercingetorix, not any more. They have fallen back into a thousand squabbling families and will remain so for generations. Yet I will not take every Roman. I can leave two or three legions to man the forts for a few seasons. If the Gauls rebel, I will hear very quickly. They know what to expect if they do.’
Octavian looked dubiously at the older man, wondering if he overreached himself. The last thing Octavian wanted was a battle on two fronts. Mark Antony played a dangerous game in stripping Gaul, for all it had brought him to the negotiating table.
After a long, tense moment while the others watched him, he nodded.
‘Very well, gentlemen. I can see you have had time to consider how such a triumvirate might work. Tell me how you see it and I will consider what is best for Rome.’
Three days of negotiations had left Mark Antony exhausted, while Octavian seemed as fresh as the first moment he had sat at the table. He returned each dawn to the same spot, once the island had been checked for hidden men by Maecenas and Lepidus. There was no treachery and Octavian was filled with a sense that the agreement might actually work. Even so, he argued and discussed every point with great energy, while the two older men wilted.
Octavian offered the passage of a law making their arrangement legitimate. In return, Mark Antony promised him complete control of Sicily, Sardinia and all of Africa, including Egypt. It was a barbed gift, with the fleet of Sextus Pompey controlling the western sea, but Octavian accepted. Mark Antony was to keep Gaul as his personal fiefdom, while Lepidus would gain the region in the north where Decimus Junius had ruled for such a short time. Spain and the rest of Italy would be their joint domain. Octavian arranged for three million sesterces to be sent over the river in boats and had the pleasure of seeing Mark Antony relax and look young for a while, before they lost themselves in the details once more.
On the third day, the agreement was written to be sealed by all three men. Together, they would form ‘A Commission of Three for the Ordering of the State’, an ugly and unwieldy title that went some way to hide what it really was – a temporary truce between men of power to gain what they truly wanted. Octavian had no false hopes on that score, but Mark Antony had never been his enemy, for all the man’s Roman arrogance. His true enemies grew stronger by the day and he needed legions and power to take them on.
The final part of the agreement caused more argument than the rest of it. When Cornelius Sulla had been Dictator of Rome, he had allowed what he called ‘proscriptions’ – a list of men condemned by the state. To be named on such a list was a sentence of death, as any citizen could carry out the charge, handing over the head of the named man for the reward of part of his estate, while the rest was sold for Senate coffers. It was a dangerous power to wield and Octavian felt the lure of it from the beginning and struggled to resist. The only names he allowed on his behalf were the nineteen remaining men who had taken part in the assassination of Caesar in Pompey’s theatre. Lepidus and Mark Antony added their own choices and Octavian swallowed nervously as he read the names of senators he knew well. His colleagues were settling old scores as their price for the agreement.
For another two days, they wrangled over inclusions, vetoing each other’s choices for personal reasons and negotiating them back onto the list one by one. In the end, it was done. The proscriptions would create chaos in Rome, but when those men had their estates put up for auction, he would have the funds he needed to build a fleet and fight a war. He shuddered at the thought, reading the list yet again. Brutus and Cassius were the first ones on it. The eastern half of Roman lands were not mentioned anywhere in the agreements. It would have been a fantasy to parcel them out while they were still held by those men. Still, it was a mark, a line drawn. Cassius and Brutus would be declared enemies of the state, where once they had been protected by law and amnesty. It was not a small thing to see them heading the list.
Six days after he had first landed on the tiny island, Octavian was there again. Mark Antony and Lepidus were glowing with their achievement, brought back into the fold by the only man with the power to do it. There was still little trust between them, but they had developed a grudging respect for each other in the days of argument. Mark Antony breathed slowly and calmly as he watched Octavian seal the triumvirate agreement and readied his own ring to add his family’s crest.
‘Five years is enough to put right the mistakes of the past,’ Mark Antony said. ‘May the gods smile on us for that long at least.’
‘Will you come back with me to Rome now, to see this made law?’ Octavian asked him, smiling curiously.
‘I would not miss it,’ Mark Antony said.
The coast of Sicily was a perfect location for a fleet of raptores. The high hills close to the coast allowed Sextus Pompey to read flag signals, then send out his galleys in quick dashes, the oar-slaves straining until the prows cut white through the sea. He squinted against the glare to read the flags as the sun came up, showing his teeth as he saw the red cloth like a distant drop of blood against the mountain peak. It was almost hidden behind the pall of smoke from the volcano on the massive island, the grumbling monster that shook the earth and caused dead fish to float to the surface, where his delighted men could spear them and find them already cooked. At night, they could sometimes see a dim glow from the peak, as molten rock bubbled and spat.
It was a landscape that suited his hatred and it was a heady thing to have both the authority and the ships to enforce his will. No longer did he have to risk the wrath of the Roman fleet whenever he sent out his crews to attack merchant vessels. The Roman fleet was his to command, with orders on waxed parchment, sealed in a great disc of wax and ribbon. The senior officers could only salute and place themselves under his authority when they saw that seal. From that moment, he had possessed a weapon as powerful as anything wielded by Rome. More so, given his stranglehold on the coast. Grain ships from Africa and Sicily itself no longer sailed to the peninsula. Rome was cut off from half the food and supplies they needed and he could do still more.
Sextus Pompey turned to his new second in command, Vedius. It would perhaps have been more conciliatory to appoint one of the senior legion captains, but Vedius had been with him for years as a pirate and Sextus trusted him. Vedius was in his twenties, but he didn’t have the sharp eyes needed to read the flags and he waited to hear the news, almost quivering with excitement. The man had been a tavern wolf when Sextus had found him, making a rough living fighting for coin, most of which he lost in gambling or drink. They had recognised something in each other the first time Sextus had knocked him down, breaking his jaw. Vedius had attacked him three times in the months after that, but each time had been worse and eventually he had given up on revenge and taken an interest in the Roman noble who talked and acted like a commoner. Sextus grinned at the man, who had never known regular food until he joined the galley crews that preyed on Roman shipping. Even a wolf could be tamed with cooked meals, it seemed.
‘The red flag is up. There is some brave soul out there, risking his life to get trinkets through to his mistress.’
In the old days, a second flag would have been vital to know the number of ships. One or two made a target, but more than that was too great a risk and his men stayed hidden in the bays and coves along the coast.
Sextus felt his heart beat faster, an old pleasure. He was standing on the deck of a fine Roman galley, with legionaries and slaves ready to send it surging out. In the small bay where he had spent the night, another five galleys were sheltering at anchor, waiting for his orders. He shouted to the signaller, watching as his
own flag ran up to the tip of the mast and the rowers were woken from sleep with a whip cracking by their ears. The other galleys reacted with the sort of discipline he had come to love, heaving up anchors from the seabed and readying their oars in just moments. He wanted to laugh aloud as he felt his ship move through the dark water towards the open sea. The others leapt forward, like hunting hawks. His raptores, just half a dozen of the deadly vessels he had been given. The coast sheltered two hundred of the galleys from prying eyes, all waiting on his orders.
The movement brought his sister up from her tiny cabin, introducing a new note of tension into her brother’s frame. He did not enjoy the way Vedius looked at her. At eighteen, Sextus was father as well as brother to her and he kept her close rather than leave her among the coarse men in his inland camps.
‘No cause for alarm, Lavinia. I am doing the noble work of the Senate, keeping the coast clear. You can stay unless there is fighting. Then I want you safe below, all right?’
Her eyes flashed in irritation, but she nodded. Though she had the same blonde hair as he did, it framed a face that seemed years younger, still very much a child. Sextus looked fondly at her as she tied her hair back and stared out to sea, enjoying the wind and spray. He was very aware that Vedius followed her every movement with his own dull stare.
‘Keep watch for enemy ships,’ he told Vedius, his voice curt.
The man was ugly, there was no other word for it. Vedius had been so battered about the face that his nose, lips and ears were a mass of scarring and his eyebrows were just thick pink lines from being ripped too many times by iron gloves. Their first fight had begun when Sextus had told him he had a face like a testicle, but without that lucky blow against his open mouth, Sextus knew he could have been killed by the fighter. Still, no one does well once their jaw has been broken and he had introduced Vedius to the reality of swords after that. He would certainly not allow the man to court his sister. For all her youth, she was of noble blood and Sextus would have to find her some wealthy senator or praetor very soon. He saw Lavinia squinting at seabirds on the high ropes and he smiled in affection.
The galleys came out at half-speed, their slave rowers warming up as they moved into the sun. Sextus exulted at the sight of them forming into an arrowhead formation without fresh orders. His original crews had simply rushed upon target ships, lunging at them with raucous cries. The fleet galleys were disciplined and deadly, and as he often did, he raced to the prow to lean out over it and stare into the distance as his ship crashed through the waves.
Two ships lay ahead, mere specks against the glare of the sun. Even as he watched, they spotted his galleys and began to turn back for the mainland. It was already too late. Unless they made it to a proper port, all they could do was run their craft onto a beach and vanish to save their lives. Sextus chuckled as he was sprayed with salt water, holding on with only one arm against the gleaming bronze eye that looked over the waves. That part of the coast offered no sanctuary, only rocky cliffs that would smash the merchants to kindling faster than he could. He bellowed back to the legion officers and the drumbeat grew faster, the great oars dipping in and out of the sea. Their speed increased and the ships around him matched the acceleration smoothly, soaring over the waters as the merchants realised their mistake and tried to tack back out to sea.
Sextus was close enough by then to see the single sail, while the other ship was a galley under full strain, easily outpacing its charge. He was surprised to see the galley turn away and head straight for him, as if its captain thought he had a chance against six. Sextus had expected to chase them up the west coast for thirty miles or so before he could board them.
Vedius appeared at his shoulder.
‘He wants a quick end, maybe,’ he said.
Sextus nodded, unconvinced. The actions of the galley captain made no sense at all and he could see the oars dipping and rising like sun-whitened wings as they pushed on towards him.
‘Put up flags “one” and “two” and “attack”, with the “minor” signal,’ he said.
He loved the legion systems and he had mastered them quickly, delighting in the complex orders he could give. Two of his galleys would chase down the merchant while he dealt with this stranger who thought he could race right down his throat. Sextus watched as two of his group veered off, keeping the same speed, as he called for his remaining four ships to ease back to half.
Still the enemy galley came on, unafraid.
‘If we hit him from both sides, he’ll go down, quick as spitting,’ Vedius said, leering at the incoming vessel.
‘There are easier ways to commit suicide,’ Sextus said, shaking his head. ‘He’s risked it all to reach us. We have the numbers to take him easily, no matter what he does now.’
The galley coming at them was far from shore and the rowers would be tiring. Even if they turned and ran at their best pace, Sextus knew he could catch and ram them before the galley reached the coast. In the distance, he could see his pair of ships overhauling the hapless trader. Its sails were coming down in surrender and his men would strip the ship of anything useful before setting fires. He turned back to see the plunging oars of the single galley come up out of the water and shorten as the slaves inside pulled the gleaming lengths across themselves. Deprived of speed and over deep water, the galley bobbed like a piece of driftwood in the swell, suddenly helpless.
‘Quarter-speed!’ Sextus yelled. ‘Lavinia, go down now.’
He risked a glance back to her, but she didn’t move, holding on to the mast and staring out with her dark eyes, taking it all in. Gods, he sometimes thought the girl was a fool. She seemed to understand nothing about danger. He could not order Vedius to take her below, so he turned back, fuming. There would be words later.
His galley inched closer and closer, until he could make out the faces of men on the heaving deck. He was ready to order backed-oars at the first sign of a trick, but there were no catapults on deck and no sign of archers or spear-throwers.
‘Take me in close,’ he called to Vedius, who passed on the orders.
The vessels crept together, with the rest of his galleys forming up around them. Sextus was ready for the sudden appearance of archers as he leaned over the prow and yelled to the men waiting on the galley’s deck.
‘That ship is a fine gift!’ he shouted. ‘You have my thanks. Surrender now and we’ll kill only a few of you.’
There was no reply and he saw a team of slaves manhandling a small boat to the edge, heaving on ropes and pulleys to suspend it over the deck and then pushing it out so that it could be lowered into the water. Two men climbed down the side of the galley past the dripping oar-blades, then took up smaller oars in the boat and began rowing over to him. Sextus raised his eyebrows as he looked back at Vedius.
‘This is new,’ he said, though he felt a spasm of worry. Caesar had been made consul and it was not beyond possibility that the men in the small boat were bringing orders to relieve him of his authority. Not that it would matter. He had the sealed orders and his captains had not been allowed to read the contents. As far as they were concerned, he had command and could not be relieved unless he allowed it.
Sextus called a full halt and his stomach lurched as the galley swung and bobbed in the waves. He watched as the two men rowed right up to him.
‘Who are you then?’ he said, hardly having to raise his voice.
‘Publius and Gaius Casca,’ one of the men replied. He was gasping, unaccustomed to the hard work of rowing through the swell. ‘Free men and Liberatores, in search of sanctuary.’
Sextus considered leaving them to drown for a moment, but at the very least they would have more current news of Rome. He heard Vedius stropping a short dagger at his back and shook his head reluctantly.
‘Bring them on board and secure that galley. I know those names. I would like to hear about the assassination from men who were there.’
In the distance, he could see the merchant ship burning. He smiled at the sight
of the dark plume rising into the sky like a flag.
‘Lavinia! Go below, now!’ he snapped suddenly.
‘I want to see! And to hear what they have to say!’ she replied.
Sextus looked around him. It was not as if the two brothers were a danger.
‘Very well, this once,’ he said reluctantly. He could refuse her nothing.
Vedius smiled at her, revealing broken teeth and withered gums. She ignored him completely and his expression soured.
CHAPTER TWENTY
The sun was still warm on Agrippa’s back, though the seasons had begun to turn and every tree had taken on rich hues of red and gold. He stood on the edge of Lake Avernus, looking out over half a mile of deep water. Where once the lake had supported only a small village on the shore, it had now become an outpost of Rome, with tens of thousands of men working hard from dawn to dusk. On one edge, twelve galley hulls were under construction in immense cradles. Even from the far side, he could see men swarming over the beams and the sound of hammering carried to him in the still air. Three completed ships surged across the surface of the lake, darting around each other as they trained.
‘All right, I am impressed,’ Maecenas said at his shoulder. ‘You’ve done wonders in just a few months. But I can see one small problem with your plans, Agrippa.’
‘There is no problem. Octavian gave me two legions and every carpenter and shipbuilder left in Italy. Two days ago, I signed an order to strip the woodland from a senator’s estate and the man did not even dare object. I can build the ships, Maecenas.’
Maecenas stared across the lake, watching as the galleys lunged and feinted at each other.
‘I don’t doubt it, my friend, though even a few dozen galleys won’t be enough to take on the fleet. However …’
‘With forty galleys, I will take him on,’ Agrippa interrupted. ‘I’ve been on these ships for years, Maecenas! I know every inch of them and I can improve them. Walk to the new ones with me. I’ve had an idea for a weapon that will surprise Sextus Pompey.’
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