Douglas Jackson - Avenger of Rome

In the depths of the hold Valerius’s eyes took time to adjust to the gloom and bring into focus the individual objects around him. Aurelius’s face had crumpled when Valerius had announced his decision. He had argued and growled and ‘I’ll be damned’ until it had been pointed out that his most precious cargo was the general’s daughter, and that if they lost Domitia they were unlikely to survive her father’s wrath, or Nero’s.

Valerius’s gaze fixed on rank after rank of earthenware amphorae. He nodded to Aurelius. ‘Form a chain and over the side with them.’

Aurelius winced. He could have wept, seeing his profit for the entire trip jettisoned, but he waved forward the men who had been waiting by the ramp.

‘What’s in here?’ Valerius pointed to an enormous stack of odd-shaped parcels and packages set to one side of the hold.

‘The lady Domitia’s personal baggage.’ Aurelius’s eyes widened. ‘You wouldn’t…’

Back on deck, Valerius studied Capito’s model of the galley and tried to ignore the closing presence to the north. Above the familiar creak and groan of the constantly shifting puzzle of ropes and jointed wood that was the Golden Cygnet ’s rigging, he heard the rhythmic splash as the ship’s cargo of finest Cretan olive oil was consigned to the depths.

A sharp feminine shriek broke his concentration and he looked up to see Tulia, Domitia’s companion, wrestling with a sailor who was attempting to push a crate over the side. The crewman was twice Tulia’s size, but from what Valerius could see he was getting the worst of the encounter and would bear the scars for some time to come. He was about to intervene when the general’s daughter emerged from below decks. She took in the scene and he saw her fists clench and her eyes narrow. Her face took on the combative look he’d last seen on an Iceni warrior charging a Roman shield line. She advanced on the struggling pair.

‘What is going on, Tulia?’ she demanded.

The freedwoman disentangled herself from her opponent. ‘They are throwing your things overboard, my lady,’ she said tearfully. ‘The tribune says anything heavy must be sacrificed.’

Valerius felt the moment she turned on him, and when he raised his head it was like looking into the mouth of a volcano. Before she could speak, he nodded towards the stern. Her eyes followed his and widened as she realized how quickly the pirate had closed since the last time she had been on deck. In that instant her whole demeanour changed and he was reminded of the difference between other women and a Roman lady bred to rule. The aggression drained from her to be replaced by a languid grace, and the headlong charge was transformed into a neat turn.

‘Then if the tribune says they must go, they must go, Tulia. Kindly show them where to find the tableware and the boxes containing the statuary.’

Valerius rose and went to her side. ‘Thank you, my lady, I appreciate your cooperation. If it had not been necessary…’

She shook her head and looked again at the pirate galleys, which were now less than half a mile away. ‘In times of war we are all soldiers, tribune, and we must all make sacrifices.’ She turned, and forced him to look deep into her eyes. ‘Is that not so? We place ourselves in your trust.’

When she was gone and his heart had stopped thundering he forced his attention back to their pursuers, wondering at the turmoil she awoke in him. Another complication he didn’t need. He imagined the big galleys gaining stroke by stroke, coming closer and closer until they touched hulls with the Cygnet. What would he do then? How could he confound his enemy? He thought back to the defence of Colonia, when he had tempted Boudicca’s warrior chiefs with the only remaining bridge to the city and they had taken the bait. This was different. He was being hunted by three wolves, and when the first wolf’s jaws closed the others would move in and together they would tear him to pieces.

‘Look!’

He joined Tiberius at the side.

‘Something strange is happening,’ the younger man pointed out. ‘Perhaps they are abandoning the chase.’

Valerius looked back to where two of the galleys had closed and their movement seemed to stutter. For a moment his hopes rose, before the ships parted and the smaller of the two suddenly surged ahead of its brethren.

‘What’s happening, Aurelius? I need to know what they’re planning.’

The Golden Cygnet ’s master scratched his head. ‘I do not know, unless…’ He looked again to where the single galley was powering towards them, each stroke bringing it closer and allowing him to see it with more clarity. ‘Capito, come here. Tell me what you see.’

The old sailor hurried to his captain’s side. He understood in an instant.

‘Poseidon save us. I’ve seen it done before, but only once. They’ll have run a plank between the sterns of the two ships and reinforced the crew of the smaller one. When a slave tires they throw the poor bastard overboard and he’s replaced by a fighter. It means that they can maintain their highest speed but you’ll face up to forty pirates instead of only twenty.’ He took in the distance between the scout galley and the Cygnet and his voice faltered. ‘They’ll be upon us in minutes.’ Valerius saw the moment Capito’s nerve snapped. The sailor’s eyes spun in his head and he let out a terrible cry. ‘They won’t take me again!’

Before anyone could stop him he ran to where a stack of amphorae lay against the side of the ship, picked up one of the great stone jars and leapt over the rail. Valerius searched the spot where the wizened seaman had jumped, but it was as if he had never existed. The weight of the amphora had taken him straight to the bottom. In the appalled silence that followed Aurelius barked an order and another sailor picked up one of the amphorae, preparing to heave it over the side. Valerius put a hand on the man’s shoulder.

‘How many left?’

‘These are the last twenty I think, sir.’

‘Keep them. I want the oil poured into as many buckets as you can find. And get me a couple of iron files. Big ones.’

Tiberius looked at him as if he’d gone mad, but when Valerius had explained his plan the young tribune shook his head in admiration.

‘Madness. But it might even work.’ He drew himself up to his full height. ‘It is a soldier’s privilege to volunteer to commit suicide, tribune, and I ask to be first over the side.’

Valerius shook his head. ‘There is someone better qualified, Tiberius. You are young; you will have other opportunities for glory.’

‘You’re right.’ Tiberius grinned. ‘Where you lead, I will follow. In any case, I doubt any of us will get back alive, even if we succeed.’ His grey eyes turned serious. ‘I underestimated you, tribune. For all your laurels, I thought you had gone soft, but I was wrong. You’re as hard as the iron in that gladius you wear. Are you sure they all have to die?’

‘All we can reach. We will have one chance. If we can’t sink the galley we have to disable it.’

The sailor returned with a pair of heavy metal rasps. Valerius handed one to Tiberius. ‘Here. You know what to do.’ He took the other rasp to where Serpentius sat near the stern, calmly running a whetstone up and down the edge of a sword. The Spaniard nodded as Valerius took his place beside him.

‘So we fight?’

‘Fight or die. Maybe both.’

‘Isn’t it always so?’

‘I have a job for you. A special job.’

Serpentius gave a bitter laugh. ‘Isn’t it always so.’ He handed Valerius the sword, which was the one with the silver pommel. Valerius took it and nodded gravely before he bent and removed his sandals. The Spaniard’s eyes widened as he started working on the leather sole with his knife to further expose the metal studs in the base.