‘Get them! Kill them all! Kill ‘em!’
Cato grabbed the buckler from the deck and pushed his way into the mêlée, thrusting himself between two marines hacking away at the heaving crowd of pirates who had forced their way on to the deck of the Roman ship. Directly in front of Cato a huge man landed on the deck with a thud. He wore a linen cuirass and brandished a heavy curved blade, which he swung back over his head the moment he saw the Roman officer in front of him.
‘No you don’t!’ Cato shouted, sweeping his buckler up to meet the blow and thrusting his sword forward. The blade caught the man in the chest, making him stagger back a pace, but the point only cracked the surface of the cuirass, and made a shallow cut into the muscle beyond before it fetched up against a bone. Even so, it robbed the blow that hissed down at Cato of much of its force and the sword glanced off the buckler with a dull ring and struck the deck. A searing pain shot up Cato’s left arm and his fingers went numb, nervelessly releasing their grip on the handle of the buckler, which fell away. Cato snatched back his blade, altered the angle and thrust the point up into the soft flesh under the pirate’s chin, and punched it into the man’s skull. The pirate toppled backwards and Cato wrenched the blade back with a wet crunch.
He straightened up, glancing round, but it was impossible to tell how the fight was going. The writhing mass of marines and pirates was too confused for Cato to work out which side had the upper hand. Over the heads of his men he could see the growing flicker from the beacon on one of the biremes rowing towards the fight. Then he was aware of another enemy rushing forwards, swinging an axe as he pressed in towards Cato, teeth locked in a wild grimace of hatred and rage in the dim glare of the flares of light from the aft deck.
A sudden surge of men closed in on Cato, pressing into his flesh, and to his horror he found that his sword arm was pinned to his side. The pirate snarled with glee and then swept his axe round, slicing through the night air at Cato’s neck. Cato lashed out with his boots and slipped down towards the deck. Above him the axe swished overhead and crunched through the spine of the man standing next to Cato. On his hands and knees Cato felt the warm drizzle of blood splattering down across his shoulders. As dark bodies drove him on to his side a new terror gripped him: that he might be crushed to death on the deck. Shielding his head as best as he could with his numb left arm, Cato held his sword close, ready to thrust, and tried to regain his feet. But a fresh surge knocked him down, and at once a booted foot stamped down on his chest.
‘Get off !’ Cato shouted. ‘Get off me!’
A face glanced down in shock and at once the boot was removed. ‘Sorry, sir.’
Before Cato could reply the broad tip of a spear plunged into the man’s throat and carried him back, out of sight. Cato knew that if he did not get off the deck soon he would be dead. He drew a deep breath and powered himself up, lashing out with sword and fist at anybody in his way, regardless of whether it was pirate or marine. Then he was up again, feet braced apart and sword ready. The press of the mêlée had passed him by and now the focus of the fight was moving aft, behind the mast. He stepped aside as a handful of marines swept past and threw themselves into the struggling mass. Breathing heavily, Cato took a moment to glance round and saw that one of the biremes was only moments away. Her marines were crowded above the prow, ready to join the battle and decide the outcome. Cato turned and saw the other bireme slightly further away, oars surging through the sea as she hurried towards the fight.
But already one of the pirate trierarchs had realised the terrible danger he and his men were facing. Beyond the stern of Cato’s bireme, he could see one of the pirate ships lurching away, then snag on one of the grappling lines. A distant shout sent one of the pirates running to the side rail and he parted the line under a flurry of axe blows.
‘Shit . . .’ Cato muttered. The ship would escape unless someone was alerted to its trierarch’s intentions. Only the furthest bireme could intercept in time, but the mêlée on the deck stood between Cato and the stern, from where he could attract their attention and shout his warning. He sheathed his sword, hurried to the side of the bireme and threw his legs over the rail, scrabbling for purchase on the planking with the toes of his boots. Then he began to work his way aft, the dark glimmer of the sea a short distance below. Beyond the rail the scrape of weapons and curses and cries of the battle continued and Cato kept his head low as he shuffled awkwardly along the side of the bireme. Then the rail began to curve up towards the steering oars and the sweeping fan of the sternpost. Gritting his teeth, Cato strained his arms and pulled himself up, but as soon as his head rose above the rail a thin pirate smiled toothlessly and leaned towards him, dagger drawn back to slash Cato across the throat. Just as Cato was preparing to throw himself backward into the sea a burly arm wrapped itself round the pirate’s neck, yanking him off his feet. The man grunted and then his whole body spasmed, before it toppled to one side and Macro plucked his blade from beneath the pirate’s shoulder.
Macro’s eyebrows rose as he caught sight of his friend. ‘Centurion Cato, leaving so soon?’
‘Shut up and give me a hand.’
As soon as Cato was aboard he saw that the fight on the bireme’s deck was going the Romans’ way. The pirates had been forced amidships and were fighting back to back around the mast, urged on by an ornately dressed man whose heavy gold rings glimmered in the light of the beacon. Cato nodded his satisfaction and then indicated the pirate vessel pulling away into the darkness. ‘Bastard’s trying to give us the slip.’
‘Can’t be having that,’ Macro grinned as Cato turned towards the bireme that had still not managed to join the fight. He cupped a hand to his mouth and shouted across the water.’Alter course! Stop them getting away!’ He thrust his arm out towards the fleeing pirate ship. ‘Get after them!’
There was a moment’s delay before the bows of the bireme slowly swung away and with a surge of oars she swept narrowly past the grappled ships and went after the surviving pirate ship. The two vessels made for the entrance to the bay where glittering torches now marked the positions of the hidden batteries. The clatter of ratchets carried across the waters as the artillery crews wound back the torsion arms and prepared to fire at the oncoming ships. Cato and Macro could hardly make them out as they blended with the dark sea as the pirates desperately made for the open sea, pursued by the Roman warship. Moments later a glittering streak of fire arced up from the nearest headland towards the middle of the bay, silhouetting the hull of one of the ships before the flaming bolt struck the sea and was instantly extinguished.
‘They’ll have his range soon enough,’ Macro commented, just as three more bolts arced into the night sky. Moments later the sharp cracks of their released torsion arms carried across the bay. The battery on the other side began to join the barrage and scored a hit with their first attempt, sending a shower of sparks springing into the air as the flaming bolt lodged in the pirate ship’s deck. A distant cheer echoed off the cliff rising up from the shore, and the barrage continued.
Macro nudged Cato. ‘I’ve just had a nasty thought.’
‘Me too,’ Cato muttered bitterly. ‘I should have realised the danger.’
The two centurions fell silent as the fiery barrage arced over its glittering reflection in the sea, and shortly afterwards the bireme took its first hit. As they watched, the Roman ship was struck two more times.
‘Shit!’ Cato pounded his fist on the wooden rail.’I should have known!’
A small fire had started on the pirate ship and as distant figures struggled to douse the flames the trierarch of the bireme quickly turned his vessel about and headed back into the bay at full speed as the excited crews on the catapult concentrated their fire on the lead vessel. Before the bireme could get out of range a final shot caught in the furled sail and set it alight. Meanwhile another fire had flared up on the pirate ship and as the flames spread, the men at the oars fled from their benches and began to dive over the side, abandoning the vessel
to a raging inferno that lit up the entrance to the bay in a brilliant but terrible glare of red and orange. Closer inshore the crew of the bireme were struggling to extinguish their own fire with a chain of sailors passing water up to men sitting astride the spar, who desperately attempted to quench the flames.
Cato thumped the rail again, consumed with frustration and self-reproach, until Macro slapped a kindly hand on his shoulder.
‘There’s nothing we can do about that. Besides, we’ve done well enough tonight. Now it’s time to finish up here.’ Macro nodded down towards the knot of enemy hemmed in around the mast.
A fresh wave of marines from the other bireme was swarming over the bows and chasing down and slaughtering the few pirates still alive at the prow.
The two centurions picked their way over the tangle of bodies and descended the steps to the main deck. Macro sheathed his sword and roughly pushed aside a handful of marines at the edge of the mêlée.
‘Pull back!’ he bellowed. ‘Pull back! Give ‘em some space!’
The order was relayed through the marines by the junior officers, and the marines gradually broke away from the pirates, warily stepping backwards across the deck, made slippery by the blood. The men took care where they placed their feet to avoid tripping over the bodies sprawled beneath them. A space opened up around the handful of bloodied men clustered on the main deck. They glared their defiance at the marines and kept their weapons raised and ready to use. An uncanny silence filled the air as the fighting ended and men on both sides waited expectantly. Cato and Macro pushed their way through the marines until they emerged a few paces away from the surviving pirates. Cato sought out the leader he had seen earlier and pointed towards him.
‘Tell your men to surrender!’
The pirate leader stared back and then sneered his defiance. Something about him was familiar and Cato frowned, trying to place the man. Before he could make the connection the man brandished his curved sword.
‘No surrender, Roman!’ he screamed in Greek.’We’ll not die like dogs on your crosses!’
Cato raised his hand to try to calm the man down, and replied in the same tongue. ‘I give my word you’ll not be executed. Slaves you will be, but at least your lives will be spared.’
‘Never!’ the pirate leader shrieked. But even as he spat his defiance at the centurion there was a dull clatter as one of his men threw down his sword and bowed his head. His comrades glanced from him to their leader and then another weapon thudded down on to the deck. An instant later, only the pirates’ leader still held his weapon and he stared from side to side in frustration.
Cato held out his hand. ‘Give it up, man. You’ve lost the fight. No sense in losing your life.’
The young man gritted his teeth and for a moment Cato was certain he was determined to go down fighting. Then his resolve crumbled and the sword fell from his trembling fingers as he stared hatefully at the Romans. And then Cato remembered exactly where he had seen him before. On the deck of Telemachus’ trireme. Even now he recalled how close this man had been to the leader of the pirates.
‘Ajax,’ Cato muttered.
06 The Eagles Prophecy
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
‘But I gave my word,’ Cato protested, and glanced round at Macro for support. The older centurion gave a slight shrug.
‘You gave your word,’ Vitellius repeated with a faint smile, as he glanced past Cato towards the prisoners, chained together in a small circle as they stood on the beach. A squad of marines stood in a loose circle around them, keeping guard. Vitellius shook his head.’What makes you think that we should honour any promise given to those murdering pirate scum.’
‘It was the condition for their surrender. I agreed terms with their captain, Ajax.’
‘Well, more fool him. Have the leader separated from the others. If he’s one of Telemachus’ top men, as you seem to think, then we might be able to squeeze some useful information out of him. Bring this Ajax to headquarters and we’ll go to work on him. But the rest will be crucified. Do our men good to see them nailed up.’ He glanced round and pointed up at the headland. ‘Up there. Where the enemy can see them, and our own men can enjoy the view.’
‘Sir, I must protest.’
‘Fine. You’ve made your protest. Now do me the kindness of allowing me to arrange for their execution.’
Cato’s mouth opened, closed and opened again as he shook his head. ‘This isn’t right . . .’
Prefect Vitellius nodded. ‘I agree. It isn’t right, it’s war. And this discussion is over. Now see to it that your ships are beached and the men given an extra ration of wine. They deserve it. Make sure they understand it’s on my instructions. I’ll want reports from both of you by the end of the day. You can do that after we’ve questioned the prisoner.’ He gave a curt wave of the hand. ‘Dismissed.’
Cato and Macro saluted, turned stiffly away and crunched down the shingle slope to the shoreline.
‘Thanks for your support,’ Cato muttered.
Macro shrugged. ‘Sorry, but I’m with the prefect on this one. They’re pirates. They should have known that they could expect no mercy from us.’ Macro frowned at him. ‘Don’t go all soft on me, Cato. Those bastards down there had it coming to them the moment they decided to take us on. Besides, if the position was reversed, if we were their prisoners, do you really think they’d show us any mercy?’
Cato refused to meet his friend’s gaze and glanced down at his boots. ‘No. But that’s what gives our side the moral authority. That’s what makes fighting for Rome worth the while.’
‘Moral authority?’ Macro stopped dead and stared at Cato for an instant before he exploded with laughter. ‘Fuck me, lad, you really do come up with them, don’t you?’
Cato looked back, scowling over his shoulder. ‘Let’s just get on with it, shall we? After all, we’re just obeying orders.’
‘Surely!’ Macro slapped his friend heartily on the back. ‘Sometimes, I tell you, orders are a positive pleasure to carry out . . .’
Cato glared at him and Macro laughed again. ‘Only joking. Come on.’
A crowd of marines from the fortified camp had gathered by the shore to examine the pirates and jeered loudly as a few amongst them lobbed pebbles at the prisoners. Even as the two centurions approached Cato saw Ajax reel as a stone gashed his forehead.
‘Hey!’ Macro roared out, making the nearest marines jump. ‘Stop that! We need that one in good condition!’
The men drew aside as Macro and Cato approached the prisoners. In addition to the injuries they had received two nights earlier, several now had cuts from the stones that had been thrown at them. Normally the marines might have been a little more careful with captives who could realise a decent price in a slave auction, but since these men were pirates there was little chance that they would be spared, and therefore they could be freely abused by their captors.
Macro beckoned to the optio in command of the guards. ‘The prefect’s arranging a little display for this lot. Take them to the master carpenter’s workshop. Except for him.’ Macro pointed to the pirates’ leader. ‘He’s coming with us. Cut him loose from the others.’
‘Yes, sir.’ The optio saluted.
The prisoners were jostled into a rough column while their young leader was taken to one side, under the eye of a marine who kept a firm hand on his shoulder while the other rested on the pommel of his sword. Ajax watched in sullen silence as his men were led into the camp, chains jingling as the shingle crunched under their bare feet.
Meanwhile, the two centurions strode down to the biremes beached in the shallows where Cato gave orders for repairs to the fire-damaged bireme while Macro organised the unloading of the wounded, and passed on the news of the prefect’s extra issue of wine. The last order raised a good-humoured cheer and the men eagerly set to work to finish their duties and clean their kit, all the while looking forward to the prospect of getting out of their skins on the cheap, but potent, wine procured for the
navy.
Cato watched them for a moment with a growing feeling of contempt. More than a few grateful toasts would be made to Vitellius that evening for the extra ration of wine. The same Vitellius who had only days before led them into a disastrous sea-battle that had cost the lives of hundreds of their comrades. Were their memories so short? Then again, the successful ambush of the pirates had won them back a large measure of confidence, and the improvement in their spirit had been evident to Cato as the crews of three biremes, their two prizes and the prisoners had made their way back down the coast to join the rest of the fleet. Now Vitellius was trying to buy himself back into their affections, and Cato had no doubt that he would succeed the instant these men sank into the warm intoxicating embrace of the prefect’s gift.
Cato turned towards the prisoner and looked him over closely once again. He was sure of it. This was the same man he had seen aboard the pirate flagship, alongside Telemachus . . . The pirate chief referred to him as a lieutenant. But as Cato struggled to recall the moment in as much detail as possible he was dimly aware that there had to be more to it than that. Ajax was no mere underling. He was one of the pirate chief’s senior men. And now he had fallen into Roman hands. Small wonder that Vitellius had been so pleased with the result. At last they had some kind of advantage over their elusive foe.
Ajax turned his head, scanning the ships and the men around him with a keen intelligence, then he met Cato’s eyes and glanced down, bowing his head and letting his shoulders sag into a very convincing aspect of dejection. Cato smiled. The man was good, and was going to play up to his captors for all he was worth.
As soon as Macro was satisfied that all was in order he strolled over to Cato.’Ready? Then let’s take this little beauty back to headquarters for a chat.’ He strode over and raising his vine cane Macro prodded Ajax in the small of his back. ‘Come on, let’s be having you!’
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