The Emperor Series Books 1-4. Conn Iggulden
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Internum in less than a year if we forced them to close with us.’
Prax smiled, seemingly delighted by the question.
‘Close with us? Oh, it happens, but they're better seamen than we are, you know. There's every chance they'll ram and sink us before we can send our men over. Of course, if we can get the legionaries on their decks, the fight is won.’
He blew air out slowly through puffed cheeks as he tried to explain. ‘It's more than just lighter, faster ships we need – though Rome won't be sending funds to lay keels for them in my lifetime – it's a professional crew to man the oars. Those three vertical banks they use so precisely, can you imagine what our muscular slaves would do with them? They'd be a splintered mess the first time we tried to hit our best speed. With our way, we don't need to train experts, and from the point of view of the Senate we don't need to pay salaries to them either. One sum to buy the slaves and the ship practically runs herself thereafter. And we do sink a few of them, though there always seem to be more.’
‘It just seems … frustrating at times,’ Julius replied. He wanted to say it was madness for the most powerful nation in the world to be outsailed by half the ships on the oceans, but Prax kept a reserve that prevented the comment, despite his friendliness. There was a line not to be crossed by a junior, though it was less obvious than with some.
‘We are of the land, gentlemen, though some like myself come to love the sea in the end. The Senate see our ships as transport to take our soldiers to fight on other lands, as we did at Mytilene. They may come to realise that it is as important to rule the waves, but as I said, not in my lifetime. In the meantime, Accipiter is a little heavy and slow, but so am I and she's twice my age.’
Suetonius laughed dutifully, making Julius wince, but Prax seemed not to notice. Julius felt a breath of memory at Prax's words. He remembered Tubruk had said something similar once, making him hold the dark earth of the estate in his hands and think of the generations that had fed it with their blood. It seemed a lifetime of experience away. His father had been alive then and Marius had still been a consul with a bright future. He wondered if someone was tending their graves. For a moment, the dark currents of worry that were always washing against his thoughts came to the surface. He reassured himself, as he always did, that Tubruk would look after Cornelia and his mother. He trusted no one else half as much as that man.
Prax stiffened slightly as his gaze swept the coast. His amiable expression disappeared, replaced by hardness.
‘Get below and sound the call-out, Suetonius. I want every man on deck ready for action in five minutes.’
Wide-eyed, Suetonius saluted smartly and strode to the steep steps, climbing nimbly down. Julius looked where Prax pointed and he narrowed his eyes. On the coast, a pall of black smoke was rising into the morning air, almost unmoved by wind.
‘Pirates, sir?’ he asked quickly, guessing the answer.
Prax nodded. ‘Looks like they've raided a village. We may be able to catch them as they come away from shore. You could get your chance to “close” with them, Caesar.’
Accipiter stripped for action. Every loose piece of equipment was stowed away securely, the catapults were winched down and stones and oil prepared for firing. The legionaries gathered quickly and a picked team assembled the corvus, hammering iron spikes between the sections until the great boarding ramp was ready, standing high above the deck. When the holding ropes were released, it would fall outwards onto the timbers of an enemy ship, embedding its holding spike immovably. Over it would come the best fighters on Accipiter, smashing into the pirates as fast as possible to make a space where the rest could jump on board. It was a perilous business, but after every action the places for those first over were hotly contested and changed hands in gambling games as a high stake in dreary months.
Below, the slave-master called for double time and the oars moved in a more urgent rhythm. With the wind coming off the coast, the sail was dropped and reefed neatly. Swords were checked for cracks and nicks. Armour was tied tightly and a growing excitement could be felt on board, held down by the long-accustomed discipline.
The burning village was on the edge of a natural inlet and they sighted the pirate ship as it cleared the rocky promontories and reached the open sea. Gaditicus ordered full attack speed to cut down the enemy's room to manoeuvre as much as possible. Caught as they were against the coast, there was little the pirate ship could do to avoid Accipiter as she surged forward and a cheer went up from the Romans, the boredom of slow travel from port to port disappearing in the freshening breeze.
Julius watched the enemy ship closely, thinking of the differences Prax had explained. He could see the triple columns of oars cut the choppy sea in perfect unison despite their differing lengths. She was taller and narrower than Accipiter and carried a long bronze spike off the prow that Julius knew could punch through even the heavy cedar planking of the Roman ships. Prax was right, the outcome was never certain, but there was no escape for this one. They would close and drop the corvus solidly, putting the finest fighting men in the world onto the enemy deck. He regretted that he hadn't managed to secure a place for himself, but they had all been allocated since before the landing at Mytilene.
Lost in thought and anticipation as he was, he did not at first hear the sudden changes in the lookout calls. When he looked up, he took a step back from the rail without realising it. There was another ship coming out of the inlet as they passed it in pursuit of the first. It was coming straight at them and Julius could see the ram emerge from the waves as it crashed through them at full speed, with sail taut and straining to aid the oarsmen. The bronze spike was at the waterline and the deck was filled with armed men, more than the swift pirates usually carried. He saw in a second that the smoke had been a ruse. It was a trap and they had sprung it neatly.
Gaditicus didn't hesitate, taking in the threat and issuing orders to his officers without missing a beat.
‘Increase the stroke to the third mark! They'll go right by us,’ he barked and the drummer below beat out his second fastest rhythm. The ramming speed above it could only be used in a brief burst before the slaves began to collapse, but even the slightly slower attack pace was a brutal strain. Hearts had torn before in battles and when that happened, the body could foul the other rowers and put an entire oar out of sequence.
The first ship was quickly growing closer and Julius realised they had reversed oars and were moving into the attack. It had been a well-planned ruse to draw the Roman ship close to the shore. No doubt the chests of silver in the hold were the prize, but they would not be won easily.
‘Fire catapults at the first ship on my order … Now!’ Gaditicus shouted, then followed the path of the rocks as they soared overhead.
The lookout at the prow called, ‘Two points down!’ to the two teams and the heavy weapons were moved quickly. Sturdy pegs under them were hammered through their holes and others placed to hold the new angle. All this as the winches were wound back once more, with legionaries sweating as they heaved against the tension of a rope of horsehair twice as thick as a man's thigh.
The pirate vessel loomed as the catapults released again. This time, the porous stones were drenched in oil and burned as they curved towards the enemy trireme, leaving smoke trails in the air behind. They struck the enemy deck with cracks that could be heard on Accipiter, and the legionaries working the catapults cheered as they wound them back again.
The second trireme rushed towards them and Julius was sure the ram would spear Accipiter in the last few feet of her stern, leaving them unable to move or even counterattack by boarding. They would be picked off by arrow fire, pinned and helpless. As that thought struck him, he called to his men to bring up the shields to pass out. In boarding, they were more of a hindrance than a help, but with Accipiter caught between two ships that were moving into arrow range, they would be needed desperately.
A few seconds later, arrows began to spit into the air from both of the enemy triremes. There was no order or aiming to them, just the steady firing high into the air with the hope of pinning a legionary under one of the long black shafts.
The ramming ship alone would