He ran back the length of the ship. ‘Fleet. Fills the beach. You’ll see yourself in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.’
Peleus nodded. ‘Look west,’ he said.
The two nicks in the horizon were defining themselves – a heavy trireme and a lighter one.
‘Ares and Aphrodite,’ Satyrus swore.
Just then the north wind gave a gust and then backed.
‘Good order, getting the mainmast down,’ Peleus went on, ‘because the north wind is about to be a south wind, and then we’re going to have to fight. At least, we’ll fight until all those Macedonian cruisers see us, and then we’re all fish bait.’ He leaned close. ‘Don’t let your sister be captured, lad. Do it yourself it you have to.’
Satyrus swallowed. But his eyes were on the hundreds of hulls on the golden beach – unmoving.
Peleus shook his head. ‘With your permission, Satyrus, I’m going to release the lower decks and row with just the top deck until the pirates are firm on our wake.’
Satyrus nodded. ‘Look who’s standing off the bay,’ he said. He pointed at the big Athenian grain freighter off riding out in the deep water of the bay, just fifteen stades down the coast.
‘No difference to us, boy,’ Peleus said.
‘Does Laodikea have a harbour?’ Satyrus asked.
‘Open beach,’ Peleus answered. ‘If we’re going to lighten ship, now’s the time.’
With a rattle and thump that Satyrus had come to dread, the engine fired. But the two pirates were well astern and the changing wind was blowing across their path. The bolt never became visible.
They rowed two stades, Peleus taking them as close in to the headland as possible in a belated attempt to remain invisible to the Macedonians on the beach.
Satyrus nodded. ‘Straight across the beach,’ he said. ‘If they can’t get a boat in the water, we’re clear.’
He spoke as much to hearten the deck crew in earshot as anything else. The changing wind favoured the deep hull of the heavier Phoenician galley, who was pulling away from his lighter brother ship.
The second bolt flew as if it came from the hand of Zeus and struck their sternpost square on, an impact that could be felt throughout the ship.
‘Poseidon, we’re sunk!’ the oar master said.
Peleus punched the man hard enough to make him writhe in pain. ‘Don’t be an ass!’ he said. ‘A hundred of those spears won’t hurt us, as long as they hit the works. It’s rowers they can kill!’ He went astern and climbed the rail with an axe and cut the lance free. ‘Nice piece of bronze,’ he said. ‘Now, about dumping some weight?’
‘Do pirates read Thucydides, do you think?’ Satyrus asked. His eyes were on the merchant ahead.
‘I doubt there’s a man in those ships who can read a word, lad,’ Peleus said. ‘Something on your mind?’
‘Have you read Thucydides?’ Satyrus said.
Peleus shook his head. ‘Ancient history. Can’t say as I have. What’d he do?’
Satyrus felt his stomach turn over in fear, and he made himself smile. ‘I have an idea,’ he said.
There were hordes of Macedonians on the shore and as Satyrus watched he saw oarsmen forming in long lines by the sterns of a dozen triremes – and worse, a heavy quinquereme, the biggest warship on the beach.
Satyrus prayed to Herakles.
God of heroes, he prayed, now I will roll the bones with fate. Stand by me.
The Athenian merchants were also watching, standing on the high stern of their ship. Some of their crewmen were already ashore, and others were lying on pallets of straw on the deck, cheering as if they were watching a race.
From their shouts, Satyrus could tell that they thought the end was near. The Lotus was dumping what little cargo he had in the outer road-stead, and he shot ahead, but throwing his cargo overboard took time and effort and men off the benches and he couldn’t keep the pace. The Lotus began to labour, his rowers apparently exhausted and ill-trained – or perhaps their morale had collapsed. The pirates increased their efforts, sure of their prey. And their engine of war fired bolts the size of a sarissa. Two of them stuck in the stern of the fleeing galley.
Satyrus was up on the half-deck with the sailors, while Peleus steered as close as he could.
‘I want it to come down in one go,’ he said for the third time, because sailors could be stubborn. ‘Make it look like the boatsail mast went. Can you do it?’
His sister was right behind him, trying to get his attention. He ignored her.
‘Like enough,’ said an Aegyptian mate with a thick accent. ‘Like we was winged, eh?’
Satyrus nodded. ‘Just so,’ he said. He glanced aft, prayed to Poseidon and tried not to flinch as the next bolt sank four inches into the planking of the stern. He looked forward, judging the distance, and aft.
‘Next one. Can you do it?’
The sailors all shrugged and looked uninterested, and Satyrus couldn’t decide whether to scream or cry. To starboard, the Athenian merchant ship, a giant tub with high sides and a towering mainmast, stood alone in the deep water just half a stade off the beach. He rode so high out of the water, even with a full load of grain, that his bulk screened three-quarters of the beach from sight.
Now that Satyrus’s orders were given, the whole idea seemed absurd. His throat was so tight that he didn’t think he could speak. But he smelled the damp lion skin, and suddenly he felt as if he’d been filled with ambrosia.
‘What the hell are we doing, brother?’ Melitta asked.
Peleus was ordering the archers and marines into the bow, which seemed to be against all reason, as they were almost at long bow shot over the stern.
‘Let me take some long shots,’ Melitta said. ‘Maybe I can kill some crewmen on that machine.’ She had her bow in her hand.
‘We’re going about, Lita,’ Satyrus said. ‘We’re going to fight, the way you wanted.’ He couldn’t manage to be angry, and he hugged her briefly. ‘Get your armour on and join the archers.’
Peleus glared.
Satyrus shrugged. ‘Wait until you see her shoot,’ he said, by way of apology.
She hugged him back fiercely. ‘Don’t be captured,’ she said.
‘Nor you,’ he said, and then he could see the men on the enemy bow cranking at their machine, the arms of the bow coming back.
Melitta was leaping down from the half-deck into the bow.
‘Ready!’ Satyrus called out. His nerves receded – mostly. Another part of him said they had enough of a lead to run the bow up the beach and leap clear – and surrender to the Macedonians.
He couldn’t imagine going back to his uncle without the Golden Lotus. Was that cowardice, too?
‘Steady!’ Peleus called. ‘Every man on deck – hard in on the port rail. Now, you whores!’
At Peleus’s command, all the men on deck without other orders ran to the port-side rail, tilting the ship an awkward angle to port.
Less than a stade aft, the engine fired and the bolt, aimed high, ripped across the deck at head height. The oar master died instantly; his head exploded like a ripe melon so that his brains showered the half-deck rowers and one of his eyes smacked Satyrus in the cheek and splatted on the deck at his feet. Satyrus gave a squeak of pure fear and stumbled back.
The boatsail fell in rush of heavy linen that filled the deck so that Satyrus was covered, swathed as if in a burial sheet, and the boat seemed to steer wildly, the stern shooting out to the port side and the heavy bow pivoting as the helmsman seemed to have lost control of his vessel. Satyrus grasped at the heavy linen, swimming through it in increasing desperation. There was a man screaming, and then he was free of the cloth, and they were screened from the rush of the pirates by the high side of the merchantman towering above them as they turned and turned, their deck crew stiffening the ship by leaning far out on the port side while their rowers pulled or backed at Peleus’s direct command, because the oar master was a headless corpse whose blood continued to be a spreading stain on the boatsail.
‘Pull, port! Drag, starboard! Half-deck, racing speed!’ Peleus called and Satyrus was out of the cloth and jumping on to the steering platform.
‘Take the helm, boy!’ Peleus said. ‘It’s your plan!’
‘Where are you going?’ Satyrus asked. In the bow, he could see his sister nocking an arrow. His palm slapped the steering oar and he spoke automatically. ‘I have the helm,’ he said.
‘You have the helm,’ Peleus responded. He grinned. ‘We need an oar master.’ He jumped for the platform
