John Stack - Ship of Rome

For an instant Septimus’s face revealed the sudden flare-up of anger within him before he wiped the expression from his face. He had expected the information that Lutatius revealed, had even prepared himself for the confirmation of his suspicions, and yet when Atticus’s betrayal was spoken out loud, Septimus was almost overwhelmed by the force of his anger. The Viminal quarter, the home of Septimus’s aunt and the residence of his sister, Hadria.

‘Thanks, Lutatius,’ Septimus said abruptly, before striding out of the consul’s quarters, automatically setting out for the Aquila , his mind clouded by visions of his sister and the man he had come to respect and trust over all others. As he crested the dunes again and made his way down towards the shoreline, his eyes discerned the figure of Atticus standing on the aft-deck of the Aquila , the galley tethered to the pier, the gangplank lowered to receive Duilius and his praetorian guard. Atticus was making ready to sail and Septimus singled out his familiar voice amid the cacophony of sound on the busy beach.

The sight and sound stopped Septimus dead in his tracks and he stood rooted to the spot halfway down the beach, feeling for the first time the tightness of his grip on the handle of his sword. He released the pressure slightly, flexing his fingers, never relinquishing his touch on the moulded grip. Septimus’s mind was in utter turmoil, one moment determined to challenge Atticus and an instant later feeling that he should give his friend the benefit of the doubt; after all, the Viminal quarter was vast and he had no proof that Atticus had been visiting Hadria. As if his thoughts were projected to the aft-deck of the Aquila , he saw Atticus suddenly turn, the captain’s face breaking into an excited smile as he spotted Septimus, his hand raised to beckon the centurion so the sea trials could begin. Septimus automatically stepped forward, his stride once again determined.

By the time Septimus reached the gangplank of the Aquila , his mind had chosen a course. He lacked proof but the evidence was damning. When the opportunity presented itself, he would confront Atticus and demand an answer. The decision allowed him to push the impending confrontation to the back of his mind, his focus shifting to the all-important part he would play in proving the worth of the corvus. He nodded to Atticus as he reached the main deck, his friend nodding in reply. For an instant Septimus’s mind fixed on the one aspect he had not yet faced, the answer to the question of how he would react if Atticus had indeed been with his sister. A renewed flash of anger revealed the only answer he knew was possible.

The Aquila cut through the calm water at her attack speed of eleven knots. Duilius gripped the side rail and steadied himself against the swell of the deck, his legs slightly splayed for balance. From his position on the aft-deck the demi-maniple on the foredeck looked like a solid mass, the linked scutum shields forming a wall that seemed barely able to restrain the soldiers behind. Beyond the bow of the galley Duilius could see the ‘enemy’ galley making her way towards their position, the convergent course bridging the gap between the ships at a frightening pace. The galley was one of the new fleet and, as the two ships jostled for position, the disparity in skill level between her helmsman and that of the Aquila was obvious even to the untrained eye of the consul. In battle a Carthaginian galley would be harder to engage for the inexperienced crews of the new fleet, but Duilius could see that the manoeuvre was nonetheless achievable.

The ‘enemy’ galley was trying to gain the broadside of the Aquila , a tactic the Carthaginians would use to ram their prey. All the helmsman of the Aquila had to do to counter the move was mirror each turn his opponent made, thereby keeping the galleys bow to bow. The gap closed inexorably and at the last turn, when the galleys looked set to simply sweep past each other, the helmsman of the Aquila turned her bow into the ‘enemy’s’. The two ships collided with tremendous force, the reinforced bow of each absorbing the blow and transmitting it down the length of the ship, the reverberation almost throwing Duilius to the deck. The collision robbed both galleys of most of their speed but they continued to slide past each other.

‘Now!’ Duilius heard, and there was a flurry of activity as grappling hooks were thrown onto the opposing deck.

The ropes were instantly made taut and the two ships came to a stop, their fates now linked together by the precarious threads. Duilius watched as the crew of the other galley attacked the lines with axes, severing the ropes in single blows. Within seconds the two ships would be free once more.

‘Release!’

This time Duilius watched in awe as the huge boarding ramp was dropped from the foredeck. The underside of its forward section revealed three vicious foot-long iron spikes that seemed to reach out to the ‘enemy’ foredeck. As the ramp crashed down, the spikes were hammered home into the deck, locking the two ships together in an inescapable grip. The legionaries instantly surged across the ramp, the first row of three presenting a solid shield wall at the front of the charge. Duilius counted aloud in his head. The entire attacking force of sixty legionaries was across in less than twenty seconds. The demi-maniple now stood together on the foredeck of the ‘enemy’ galley, their shields linked in a classic battle formation, facing down the length of the opposing galley. There was no enemy to engage on board the allied galley, but Duilius could immediately appreciate the deadly effectiveness of the attack.

‘Hold!’

The order was shouted from within the ranks of the legionaries and Duilius watched a centurion disengage from the centre of the line. He was a tall young man, one Duilius recognized from his frequent visits to the training camp at Fiumicino. The centurion recrossed the ramp and made his way up along the galley. He mounted the steps from the main deck and stood beside the captain and shipbuilder who were already standing expectantly in the centre of the aft-deck. The centurion saluted the consul. Duilius looked at the three men.

‘How long before these devices can be installed on every galley?’ he asked, the question his explicit approval of the tactic.

Lentulus smiled, the other two men suppressing the smile behind cold military expressions.

‘A week at most, Consul, in time for the launch of the last batch of thirty galleys.’

‘Make it so,’ Duilius commanded. ‘I want daily progress reports.’

‘Yes, Consul.’

Duilius turned his back on the men and walked once more to the side rail. He watched as the legionaries were ordered to return to the Aquila and the corvus was once more raised. The galley swung away and turned her bow again to the beach. The sound of the drum signalled the re-engagement of the oars and the deck became alive beneath his feet once more. The sound of the beat allowed Duilius’s mind to organize what he would need to achieve in the coming week. He had barely finished the first day in his mind when the galley reached the southernmost wooden pier at Fiumicino.

Atticus watched from the aft-deck as the junior consul disembarked from the Aquila. He had noticed the galley had not docked with its usual agility and he turned to see the frowning face of the helmsman, Gaius.

‘Something troubles you, Gaius?’ Atticus asked as he approached the more experienced sailor.

‘It’s the corvus , Captain,’ Gaius replied. He had discovered a distinct disadvantage to the device, something that could jeopardize any vessel on which it was deployed. He understood the importance of the weapon and how it was Atticus’s discovery, but he also knew the captain would expect nothing less than an honest appraisal, the safety of the ship paramount.