your people in the past and my reputation is without stain.’
‘Nevertheless,’ Hamilcar said firmly, ‘my men stay.’
Calix stared at the Carthaginian commander for a moment longer. ‘Very well,’ he said. ‘We will discuss the price of their passage after we escape the blockade.’
Hamilcar smiled. ‘Agreed,’ he said. He had known Calix would ultimately comply — how could he not, given he was yet to be paid? — but to have him back down so quickly and swallow the slight against his honour was a mark of his professionalism. For many men whose allegiance was for sale, loyalty could easily be secured by a higher bidder; but with the Rhodian, Hamilcar was now confident his loyalty was also bound by his word and his reputation.
Calix ordered his crew to cast off and shouted down the open hatchway to the rowing deck to make ready. Hamilcar glanced down and was immediately surprised to see the rowers moving freely around the deck, many of them running to their oars in answer to Calix’s command.
‘They’re freedmen,’ he said almost to himself, and Calix turned.
‘The strongest rowing crew in the Mediterranean,’ he said with unassuming confidence, and he began calling orders at his crew again as the Ares moved sedately away from the dock.
Hamilcar watched the rowing crew at work, their stroke even and clean. He had heard the Greeks used freedmen as rowers, but he had never encountered them before. For a fleet the size of Carthage’s, apart from the difficulties of procuring such manpower, the cost of using freedmen as rowers would be enormous, although Hamilcar could see the advantages.
As the order was given for standard speed, the Ares jerked forward under their combined strength. He was poised to turn away when one other realization struck him, his ear so attuned to the sound that he did not notice its absence; there was no drum beat. Just as he wondered how the rowers kept time, they suddenly began to sing, a deep sonorous tune that matched the pace of their stroke. They bent their backs to the task with the enthusiasm of professional labourers who took pride in their work.
The Ares swung her bow through ninety degrees and Calix called for battle speed. Beyond the inner shoals, two squadrons of ships were sailing slowly across the lagoon while the bulk still straddled the northern channel. As Hamilcar moved to the helm, Calix adjusted the course of the Ares once more, deciding on an inner channel that would take the Ares between the two squadrons but closer to the southernmost one, a calculated risk to lower any pursuit to a minimum.
Hamilcar looked to the Roman ships less than a mile away and, with a sailor’s heart, he shrugged off the concerns of command to concentrate on the contest about to unfold. He was committed; his fate was in the hands of the gods and the skilled crew of a Greek mercenary.
‘Enemy galley, four points off the starboard bow.’
It took mere seconds for Atticus to spot the approaching ship and discern its course and intent.
‘Battle speed, steady the helm,’ he shouted, running to the side rail. It was the Rhodian, there was no doubt. Making battle speed and heading for a channel in the inner shoals about half a mile away. Atticus looked to his other squadron nearer the northern end of the bay. They too were responding, coming about to close the vice, but Atticus could immediately see they were too far away. Only his squadron was in a position to intercept the Rhodian.
‘Gaius, your assessment,’ Atticus asked over his shoulder.
‘He’s making battle speed,’ Gaius replied, his hand steady on the tiller. ‘And if his channel through the inner shoals is straight, he’s going to reach the lagoon before we can intercept him. Recommend we go to attack speed and head for the outer rim of the lagoon.’
Atticus nodded without turning. ‘Make it so,’ he said, and the Orcus accelerated, the staggered response of the rest of the squadron creating a slight gap behind the command ship.
Gaius turned the helm through two points to port and the Orcus leaned into the turn, her ram slicing across the gentle swell, creating curved waves that marked her course.
‘Baro,’ Atticus shouted, and the second-in-command ran to the aft-deck.
‘Have Drusus ready the legionaries. It’s time they put their new skills to the test.’
Baro nodded with a conspiratorial smile. He had trained the legionaries relentlessly over the previous weeks and was anxious for them to cut their new teeth in battle. He ran back to the main deck and began speaking with Drusus, occasionally pointing to the quadrireme off the starboard beam.
Atticus watched them for a moment longer and then turned his attention to the Rhodian. The quadrireme was approaching the inner shoals, still sailing at battle speed, an incredible pace considering the obstacle he was about to negotiate; but his committed course allowed Atticus to recalculate the angles, his confidence rising slowly as he drew his conclusions.
Hamilcar instinctively leaned forward as the ram of the Ares approached the shoals, the speed of the quadrireme raising the hairs on his arms. He glanced at Calix, the Rhodian’s gaze locked on the Roman squadron on the far side of the lagoon. Hamilcar looked over his shoulder to Lilybaeum, wondering which landmark the helmsman was using to align the galley to the hidden channel, impressed by the confidence shown by all on board but, as he looked again to Calix, he saw his brow was wrinkled in puzzlement.
‘What is it?’ he asked.
‘The Romans,’ Calix replied slowly. ‘I had expected them to come straight at us as we emerged from the inner shoals and then give chase, but they have sailed to the far side of the lagoon. It is a clever move, one to their advantage…’
He turned away abruptly and began talking to the helmsman, as if Hamilcar were no longer there, and both Greeks looked towards the Roman squadron. Hamilcar watched their discussion. Greek was the trading language of the entire Mediterranean and Hamilcar possessed a reasonable grasp of the language, but the dialect and speed of their conversation frustrated his efforts to listen. He saw them nod in unison as they reached a decision.
He looked to the waters around the Ares and noticed they were almost through the shoals. Beneath the crystal-clear green waters he could see the shadows of the rocks, some of them reaching up to the surface not twenty feet from the bow of the Ares, jagged spires that would pierce even the strongest timbers, and again he marvelled at the skill and confidence of the Rhodian, knowing that any mistake would be punishable by utter ruin.
The deck tilted suddenly beneath Hamilcar, and he centred his balance as the Ares accelerated to attack speed, her bow coming around to a point further ahead of the Roman squadron. The Rhodian had obviously abandoned his original course and was now striking for a more distant channel, forced to do so by the Romans’ initial perceptive reaction. Hamilcar felt a stirring of doubt but he shrugged it off. Despite the slight deviation in plan, he trusted the Rhodian.
‘Aspect change,’ Corin shouted. ‘The Rhodian is coming about two points to starboard. Moving to attack speed.’
‘I make it more like three,’ Baro said, but Atticus and Gaius remained silent, their concentration riveted on the quadrireme’s every move.
‘Helm, one point to starboard,’ Atticus said. ‘Give me a hundred yards off the port beam between us and the outer shoals.’
Gaius nodded and made the change. The quadrireme was almost directly off their starboard beam on the far side of the lagoon, but their course was convergent, the Rhodian striking for a channel in the shoals somewhere ahead of the Orcus. Atticus was looking to close that apex, to intercept the quadrireme just short of its target, knowing that if the Rhodian reached the shoals the race would be over. The quadrireme’s draught was at least four or five feet less than that of a quinquereme’s, and Atticus knew, if the roles were reversed, he would choose a channel that only a lighter boat could traverse.
‘We should accelerate to ramming speed,’ Baro said, but Atticus ignored him. It was too soon for such a last-ditch move. The rowers could only maintain ramming speed for five minutes maximum and, given that the Rhodian might change course again, Atticus might need that reserve of strength. He looked to his other squadron, approaching on their position, but again, even with the convergent courses, they would still not intercept the Rhodian before he crossed the lagoon. The Orcus was leading the charge and only they could thwart the enemy.
‘Ramming speed,’ Calix ordered, and the Ares was transformed into the very creature its namesake watched over, the galley taking flight across the smooth waters of the lagoon, its sleek, shallow draught offering minimal
