his eyes unconsciously checking and re-checking the rigging and the line of the mainsail, the gentle breath of the on-shore breeze filling the canvas sheet and pressing smoothly against the offcentre drag of the rudder with Gaius’s minute adjustments of the tiller keeping the Aquila dead on course.
Atticus’s gaze came to rest on the main deck and the sight that had drawn his attention so many times since dawn’s early light had given it clarity. The three men lay side by side, two legionaries and one of Atticus’s own, the soldiers lying with their shields covering their chests and faces, the sailor’s face covered with a strip of cloth, an act of dignity to hide their sightless eyes. They had all died of their wounds during the night, two of them succumbing mercifully while they were unconscious but the third screaming in pain until Mars claimed him, the deep wound to his kidney spilling black blood onto the deck, a stain that would never fade.
‘Fifteen men,’ Atticus whispered, recalling the faces of the three that were from his own crew, and with the resolution that only a commander could summon he buried the memory of them deep within his mind.
Atticus’s trance was broken by the sight of Lucius before him, the second-in-command’s face agitated.
‘You need to speak with Albinus immediately!’ he said.
‘Albinus?’
‘The Roman captain the legionaries found on the pirate galley,’ Lucius explained. ‘He regained conscious about an hour ago.’
Atticus was about to question Lucius further but he turned and walked to the hatchway leading to the cabins below, forcing Atticus to follow. He spotted Septimus approaching along the main deck, following a crewman and Atticus shrugged his shoulders to Septimus’s enquiring glance before descending the ladder leading to the deck below.
The Roman captain was lying on a cot in one of the smaller side cabins. He was propped up on his elbow, a sailor assisting him as he drank a mouthful of water from a goblet, the captain coughing painfully as he choked on the meagre sip. The crewman withdrew the goblet and the captain lay down once more, closing his eyes as he drew his arms slowly across his chest and for the first time Atticus could see that all his fingers were broken, many of them sticking out at obscene angles.
‘Albinus,’ Lucius said, and the captain reopened his eyes. A shadow of some horrific memory swept across them before they came into focus.
‘Albinus, this is Captain Perennis and Centurion Capito,’ Lucius said and stepped aside to allow Atticus and Septimus to enter the cramped space. Atticus knelt down at the head of the cot while Septimus moved to the end, standing with his arms folded, anger etched on his face as looked upon the ruined body of the Roman captain.
‘Tell them what you told me,’ Lucius prompted and the captain nodded imperceptibly, swallowing hard as if to clear his throat of some vile taste.
‘I’m Albinus Lepidus of the trading galley Glycon,’ the captain began, his voice a whisper but easily heard in the tiny cabin. ‘We were sailing to Locri when we were ambushed by the pirate galley.’
Albinus paused and was silent for a moment. ‘She came out of nowhere…’ he muttered and Atticus reached out instinctively and placed his hand on the man’s shoulder. The captain seemed to draw strength from the gesture and continued.
‘They captured many of my crew alive. I was taken to the main cabin and the others…the others were tortured to death.’ Albinus said, the act of speaking of the terrible memory seemingly drawing the life force from his body.
‘Tortured?’ Septimus asked, ‘Why?’
‘It was the Carthaginian,’ Albinus spat, suddenly angry and defiant. ‘He ordered the men to be tortured and then the bastard…’ He coughed violently from the effort of speaking and blood-stained spittle shot from his lips onto his tunic. The image of the Carthaginian officer on the pirate galley immediately entered Septimus’s mind and he remembered his incredulity; not only seeing a Punic soldier on the galley but the fact that he seemed to be in command of the pirate crew.
‘Why was there a Carthaginian officer on board?’ Septimus asked. ‘And why was he in charge of the galley?’
Albinus swallowed hard again as regained his breath.
‘I don’t think it was permanent,’ he said, his mind sifting through the minutes before the Carthaginian started to torture him. ‘He told the pirate captain that the ship was under his command until they reached Tyndaris.’
‘Tyndaris?’ Atticus said. ‘The Syracusan port?’
Albinus nodded.
‘Why did he have the men tortured?’ Atticus asked, and he sensed Lucius leaning forward behind him. ‘What did he want to know?’
‘He wanted to know about our coastal defences,’ Albinus began. ‘If I had ever encountered any patrols. If there was an active defence line somewhere south of the city. Where the majority of the galleys were stationed? What activity I had seen?’
‘What city?’ Atticus asked, his mind searching the coast of Sicily for the enemy’s target. ‘Are they planning an attack on Agrigentum?’ he ventured.
Albinus shook his head and then turned to look directly into Atticus’s eyes.
‘No, Captain,’ he said, his voice raised above a whisper for the first time. ‘The Carthaginians plan to attack Rome’
Varro angrily paced the main deck of the Tigris as he watched the small skiff approaching. Vitulus was perched behind the bowsprit, the two rowers behind him the only other two occupants of the boat. The Greek captain, the man he had ordered Vitulus to return with was nowhere to be seen and Varro looked beyond the skiff once more to the Aquila, now anchored a hundred yards away.
‘Well?’ Varro barked as Vitulus climbed up the rope ladder from the skiff.
‘The captain is on board,’ Vitulus began, rushing his words to explain himself before his commander could react further. ‘But he requests that you come across to the Aquila. He has a Roman captain on board who is too weak to be moved but who has vital information that you need to hear.’
Varro stepped forward without warning, and slammed his forearm into Vitulus’s chest, knocking him to the deck.
‘I do not take orders from a Greek,’ Varro roared, his sword suddenly in his hand, its tip held above Vitulus. ‘Assemble a contubernia and bring this galley alongside the Aquila. I will deal with this insubordination myself.’
Vitulus nodded and scrambled up, moving quickly to the aft-deck and issuing the necessary orders. The drum beat started a minute later as the Tigris got underway, the helmsman bringing her alongside the Aquila with practiced skill.
The gangway of the Tigris was lowered onto the deck of the Aquila and Varro strode across, followed by Vitulus and ten legionaries.
‘Where is your Captain?’ he asked, grabbing a crewman by the scruff.
The sailor indicated the aft-hatchway and Varro continued on, his mind barely registering the sight of three covered bodies on the deck. He descended the ladder with one hand on the hilt of his sword and upon seeing the opened door to a side cabin, prepared to enter, the men behind him crowding the corridor.
Atticus spotted Varro the moment he appeared in the doorway.
‘Commander,’ Atticus began, relief in his voice, ‘thank the Gods you’re in time,’ he said indicating the man lying on the cot. ‘He is near death.’
‘You!’ Varro spat, drawing his sword, the movement awkward in the confines of the cabin. ‘You have disobeyed me for the last time.’
‘Commander!’ Septimus roared, his voice deafening in the confines of the narrow room. Varro’s sword immediately froze, his murderous gaze darting to the tall centurion at the end of the cot.
‘It is vital you hear this man’s report,’ Septimus continued, the natural commanding tone of his voice causing Varro to hesitate. He shoved Atticus aside and looked down at the haggard face of the Roman captain.
‘Who is he?’ he barked, shaking the captain’s shoulder roughly until he stirred and his eyes opened.
As if in a trance the captain began to tell his story again, seemingly oblivious to whom his audience was. It took him ten minutes to recite his report, his voice trailing off a number of times, his eyes rolling in his head as his consciousness fled to be forcibly reined in again by Varro, his impatience and mounting excitement extinguishing any tolerance he had for delays caused by the captain’s weakness. He stood up as the captain finished his report and turned to face Septimus.
