Von Klasewitz nodded to the messenger. “I’ll go to the palace right away,” he told him. The man bowed again and withdrew, so that the German stood alone on the quay, the smile now widened into a grin.
What Maximus hadn’t understood, he went on in his thoughts, was that he had brought his own downfall into his immediate vicinity, the man who would replace him as soon as the main problems were resolved.
Who would have thought of that? A few months ago, an outcast, a refugee, a traitor. And now a man of power, only a hand’s breadth away from the last step on the ladder, on the verge of turning himself to wear the purple.
Von Klasewitz controlled himself, got his mouth under control.
Careful now.
Be careful.
Act very, very slowly.
He only had this one chance.
He wasn’t allowed to mess it up now.
Von Klasewitz rolled the message with tender movements and turned away. He had to dress properly when facing the Emperor to swear his allegiance and obedience.
Obedience.
Carefully.
Very, very carefully.
40
Thomas Volkert again had the unsteady floor of a ship’s deck under his feet and was comfortable with it. He took a deep breath, greedily inhaled the salty sea air, closed his eyes in the soft breeze, and sank in the cries of the seabirds. His hands gripped the railing that separated the stern of the ship from the rest of the vehicle. The ropes of the mast creaked in the wind as the main sail was pulled up to support the oarsmen of the large transport galley. The wind was good, not too strong, and the rowing soldiers would put in good speed in harmony with nature. The marvelous atmosphere of a departing ship engulfed Volkert, that mix of destiny and direction, the quiet certainty of mastering the element, and the calculated risk of being controlled by the same – that was a lot more intense on this galley than on the massive, metal ship’s body of a cruiser. The waves became more immediately noticeable, the sounds of the wood, the ropes, the oars were different than the pounding of the machines on the Saarbrücken, it was all – quiet, less hectic, relaxed, very relaxing indeed.
Volkert knew that he was giving himself a dangerous illusion. This large galley was not a new construction, none of the improvements of modern shipbuilding could be seen in this ship, no deeper hull, neither a decent keel that increased the stability on the waves, nor a rigging with several sails adapted to the varying conditions of the winds.
Of course, no steam engine. It was a grain transport that had just been overhauled, a good ship, but one that would quickly leak and sink in stormy weather, whose low sidewalls were quickly washed over and could not cross the wind but only row against it.
But Volkert was glad to be here. It helped him to suppress the memory. The calm face of Sedacius, who had plunged into his own sword, as was to be expected of him, was one of those memories. He had to see it. Volkert simply had to look, though he wasn’t allowed to observe the act itself. So much privacy had been granted to the traitor. He had killed himself in his tent, without witnesses. Then he had been carried out, past Volkert, who had sought in vain for sedation, pain, or hatred in the face of Sedacius.
That, he had to find out, only made matters worse.
He had then tried to forget it. Bertius, who with almost touching zeal had seen with concern that Volkert, otherwise not a friend of drunkenness, had taken alcohol in higher quantities than usual. Fortunately, he had stopped with it just as quickly because the hoped-for benefits only lasted for a short time. Then Volkert had plunged into work, barely slept, consumed in hysterical tirelessness, until even his fellow officers had advised him to step down a bit. In fact, he had been commanded on this ship – as a passenger, like many of the legionaries aboard – because it was assumed that he wouldn’t do much more than to spend days in the sun and having a good time.
That was not what Volkert wanted. Instead, he had prepared a work program, supported by some thick scrolls that Bertius had organized: history books, philosophical essays, frivolous-entertaining poetry, all in Latin and Greek, and all for the sole purpose of refining his language skills and, of course, to fill his head with other things than the picture of the so peaceful, dead Sedacius.
It was on the second day at sea, the wind was still up and strong enough to give the oarsmen a break. It got hot on deck, leaving many of the soldiers in the shadows or in the lower deck. The large grain warehouses were anything but stuffy, with openings in the side walls that blew a well-channeled breeze, and the sun didn’t burn down here. There was enough room to sit comfortably and indulge in the dice game. Volkert had made sure that some big amphoras came on board with wine, and when the heat got more distinct around noon, he had some of them broken open and served. He only consumed extremely diluted wine. He had learned his lesson.
“Trierach! Masts port side!”
The call of the lookout tore him out of his contemplation. Volkert wasn’t the commander of this ship – an office for which he envied. The burly trierarch, Julius Annaeus by name, was an experienced man who had been sailing on grain ships since his earliest youth and who commanded the ship with dreamlike security. He was already at the railing, carrying Volkert’s binoculars, a gift given to the promoted officer by Theodosius, and used it as if he had never done anything else.
For a moment he looked at the horizon, then dropped the glass and made a contemptuous noise. “Pirates,” he said. “Idiots.”
Volkert took the glass and looked through it. Three ships, slender galleys, rowed with energy toward them. Annaeus had realized it was pirates, he didn’t know for sure yet. But it was improbable that anyone would take war to a galley except for the Roman Navy and brigands.
“They think we’re a grain transport,” Volkert surmised.
“Yes, we’re one,” the trierarch said with a grin. “Only we have a slightly different load this time.”
“That doesn’t change the fact that they can sink us easily,” Volkert said. He estimated that the three attackers would reach their transport within an hour.
“They don’t want to sink us, they want our cargo,” Annaeus replied. “The belly is full of luxury goods that we bring to Africa to return home with grain. They are keen on all the precious fabrics, the beautiful ceramics, the amphoras with fine wine, not to mention the boxes of golden denarii.”
Volkert grinned, thinking of the sweaty men in the holds.
“We’ll allow them to get close,” he said. “We capitulate and let them board. As many as possible. And then we surprise them a bit.”
Annaeus looked at Volkert. “Your reputation precedes you, Tribune,” he mumbled. “I should have just filled the railing with soldiers and let them wave violently. Our friends there would have been turned off at once and rowed out their souls to avoid getting close.”
“Or they could have rammed us comfortably and sent is to the bottom of the sea because they have a fundamental problem with legionaries,” Volkert replied.
The Trierarch frowned and then nodded slowly. “I didn’t think about that possibility,” he admitted.
“We don’t want to forget in all this civil war that we have many other enemies,” Volkert said. “Pirates are the scourge of the Mediterranean. And three additional galleys would be a nice prize.”
Annaeus laughed. “That sounds like you, Tribune. Sails off to recover during the voyage and arrive with three conquered pirate galleys and a bunch of prisoners. You’ll be covered with so much glory that one day you’ll suffocate.” He laughed again, then turned and gave orders.
Hectic activity commenced.
Volkert stared at the masts of the pirate galleys, which were now well visible to the naked eye. The last remark of the Trierarch, though joking, even admiring, echoed in him. Unintentionally, the old man had put his finger on a worry that Volkert had been trying to heal for a long time. And such remarks didn’t make it any better.
But the death by suffocation had to wait. First of all, he had to avoid be
ing killed by the arrow of a pirate – or in the wreckage of his sinking ship.
The hustle and bustle on board gave way to an expectant rest. Visible for the approaching pirates were only the usual sailors and a few legionaries. Also, the grain transports never carried their cargo without protection, so that some armed soldiers were expected on deck. Volkert himself had insisted on watching the arrival of the three pirate ships from the quarterdeck. The energy with which the galleys approached testified to their self-confidence – and to the growing greed for finally making their prey.
Eventually, two of the galleys turned, stayed at a distance to maneuver and be vigilant. The third ship approached to calling distance. Volkert left the Trierarch to this part of the charade.
“Who is your captain?” a loud voice said to them. Volkert recognized a bearded, powerfully built man who waved violently.
Annaeus made himself recognizable. “It’s me.”
“Surrender!” It echoed immediately. “Or we sink your ship!”
“What about my crew?”
“We’ll put them on land in Sicily!”
Annaeus gave Volkert a meangingful glance. That was a lie, of course. Pirates sold their prisoners as slaves or sent them to the seabed as they were witnesses of their annoying habits. Only passengers of importance had a chance to be taken hostage to extort a ransom.
“Do you have any passengers?” came the bearded man’s question.
“A few!” Annaeus shouted back, mastering himself to avoid grinning.
“Do you agree?”
“Yes, we capitulate. Please don’t kill us! We are only a few!”
The pirate leader seemed to have expected nothing else. With Italy immersed in civil war, the authorities had certainly other things to do than to pay particular attention to the protection of the grain transports.
Volkert heard instructions given. The other two galleys moved and took the transport in their midst. From both sides they came closer and would probably also board from both sides. Volkert worried that the third ship was keeping its distance. It was undoubtedly an insurance, should something go wrong.
“The pirate is too clever,” Volkert muttered. He hurried past Annaeus and hurried below deck. Secundus was already waiting for him there with his sword drawn.
“My friend, if you find men here who have ever gone to sea or would like to try it out, then quickly assemble a team. We must conquer one of the pirate galleys immediately and look after our friends from sea.”
Secundus nodded, turned, whispered, so the news spread.
Volkert hurried upstairs again, found the captain, who was looking at him anxiously.
“The third ship …” Annaeus began, but Volkert interrupted him.
“I know. We’ll conquer one of the galleys as fast as we can and launch a counterattack.”
Annaeus looked at him with wide eyes. “I …”
“Lend me your gubernator, Trierarch.”
The weathered man nodded. “Porcius has long served in the fleet and hunted pirates, Tribune. He knows how to steer a galley in battle. Rely on him. Porcius!”
The gubernator of the ship, barely younger than the Trierarch, hurried toward them.
“Sir?”
“Tribune wants you to go back to battle, my friend.”
Volkert pointed to one of the two galleys, which had already come close and now removed the oars in order to throw the enter ropes. A large boarding bridge stood ready to be settled and barbed into the railing of the transport. The difference in altitude was not too great as to make this impossible, even though the transport had slightly higher side walls.
“Yessir. I’m ready,” Porcius said calmly, nodding to Volkert.
“Hold back, gubernator,” he ordered. “You shouldn’t be hurt. Stay close to me.”
Volkert had decided to show some reason for once and not to push himself to the forefront. Apart from the fact that he no longer had anything to prove to anyone, he had to keep track of everything in order to command the conquest of the pirate ship as soon as possible.
The ropes were thrown, port as well as starboard. The pirates understood their craft. The attack was completely synchronous. Furthermore, for them only the normal crew could be seen on the transport. Although the attackers kept their weapons ready, they made a relatively relaxed impression. Volkert estimated that each galley had around 40 fighters on board. In the belly of his ship nearly 500 legionaries waited for their call. The danger, still, wasn’t the attackers themselves, but a ship with a ram spur that could decide everything.
A floor hatch opened a crack. A thumb was briefly visible. Volkert positioned himself so that he could be seen well from there. He reached out his hand, palm down. Waiting. It wasn’t time yet.
Boardwalks crashed onto the railing. Annaeus had the oars of the transporter removed in time. Everyone was good and docile.
The first pirates stormed aboard, jumping onto the deck, arms outstretched. The crew of the transport ship had retreated to the quarterdeck, their unarmed hands raised in the air. Even Volkert, who wore the sword at his side, made it clear that he didn’t intend to draw the weapon. The bearded man who had called them smiled triumphantly.
“Spread out!” he shouted to his people, who had started to exchange jokes.
Volkert’s hand remained calm, flat, outstretched. Almost all the pirates had come aboard.
He clenched his fist.
Hatches opened.
Before the attackers could react, the first legionaries were already on deck, making way for the following, repelling the first helpless attacks. Shouting sounded.
“Secundus!”
Volkert pointed to the pirate ship. Secundus nodded, and shouted something to his men, who hurried to the deck but kept out of the fighting. Volkert drew his sword and jumped down from the quarterdeck. A pirate approached him, his face angrily distorted. Volkert danced to the side, deftly avoided the blow, didn’t resist, but continued on his way. Another legionary leapt into the breach. Iron hit iron.
“Over there!” Volkert shouted, pointing to the boarding bridge. He looked around, recognizing the gubernator directly behind him, a mighty club in his hand. “Come on! Come on!”
Secundus’s men ran across the boarding bridge. The pirates who had stayed behind on the ship backed away in surprise. They formed a line of defense, but the legionaries knew what had to be done. They pressed on with relentless power, lost no time. When Volkert entered the galley deck, the last pirate asked for mercy. It was granted to him.
“Loosen the ropes! The bridge up! Gubernator!”
“The men to the oars!” Porcius shouted and hurried to the quarterdeck.
Volkert turned and saw that the situation on the transport ship was already calming down, the fighting abated. The smarter of the attackers asked for mercy. No pointless carnage, Volkert had ordered.
Annaeus waved to him. He would have the ropes of the other pirate galley cut down to get the oars out as fast as he could to maneuver.
Volkert hurried to the quarterdeck, looked at the third galley. The crew over there had embarked into hectic activity. Oars dropped into the water, the ship began to steer past the lost prey sideways, positioning itself for a ramming attack, as Volkert had foreseen.
That their own people were still on board didn’t seem to bother anyone on the third ship. Maybe many could swim, then they could possibly save themselves.
Someone hit his shield with his sword. Secundus stood behind the oars and indicated a rhythm. The rudders dropped into the water. The pirate galley broke away from the transport ship. The old gubernator didn’t turn, as Volkert had expected.
“Where to?” he asked.
“The pirate ship is going to the left and will attack once the detached galley has drifted off. We’re on the right, rowing past our old lady instead of turning backwards. We’ll have enough momentum … ah, Androgathus got it! My second! He’s a clever one!”
The oars of the transport ship emerged, and as soon as
they touched the water, they began to row back the ship.
Porcius laughed. “The Trierarch does not want to get in our way!”
“A smart man!” Volkert remarked. “But if everything goes well, we’ll row head-on against the enemy galley now! He’s turning too!”
“Naturally. And then let’s see whose ship is more stable,” Porcius said almost cheerfully. “You can swim, Tribune?”
“Me, yes. And you?”
“Like a fish. Ask around. Otherwise, we’ll throw some spare wood into the water. The unlucky ones can cling to it.”
Volkert stared at the old man for a moment, then nodded. He had to leave that to Porcius. Without naval guns, his maritime training was meaningless here. This was another way to fight.
The backward movement of the nag seemed to have taken no account of the pirates. When the transport ship had moved out of sight, the battle had evolved as Volkert expected: The two galleys faced each other head-on, the pirates had their orientation on the transporter not quite completed, and the ship of Porcius had avoided the large vehicle. Likewise, the detached, empty galley was not in their way, either, lying off the starboard side of Volkert’s ship.
Porcius shouted something to Secundus. He struck his shield with more vehemence. He seemed to enjoy all this too much. The galley sank into the water as the rowers began to lay themselves in the straps with higher cadence. Volkert stared at the pirates over the waves. Obviously, they had hesitated briefly but then came to the conclusion that it wasn’t compatible with the pirate theory to pinch now. Or it was expected that the Romans would, at the last moment, turn their ship and they would shave off only the oars, which in turn gave the chance to recapture at least one of the galleys from the hands of the legionaries.
Volkert didn’t care. The opponents focused on him, not on the big ship. The numerous legionaries on board wouldn’t be sent to the bottom of the sea, and that was ultimately the point behind the whole maneuver. He clenched his teeth as the pirate galley began to pick up speed and accelerate toward them.
“Clear the bow!” Porcius ordered. “Pull oars on my command!”
The Emperor Page 24
