Gallia Invicta

Now that they were following the Veneti, racing in their wake, the oarsmen pulling with all their might, it was clear that heavy loads and lack of strong winds were hampering the enemy quite badly. Their lead on the Romans was fairly steady, occasionally widening and then shrinking as the wind gusted.

The young officer sighed and stood leaning back against the rail. The next three quarters of an hour would likely hold very much the same view, but with different scenery slipping past. In the intervening time, all he could realistically do was watch and perhaps eat something to keep his strength up. Taking a deep breath and nodding his satisfaction to the trierarch, he slid down the rail to sit on the deck, leaning into the corner. His weary frame sagged with relief.

It had been two days since he’d had a chance to shut his eyes properly. Yesterday had been filled with the tense journey up the coast. Then last night they had anchored offshore in the darkness and watched the headlands keenly for a signal from Fronto and Balbus. Oh, he’d had the opportunity for a rest then, but who could find easy sleep on the eve of such an important action and while waiting for news upon which everything hinged?

After Fronto’s signal and then Balbus’ in the early morning darkness, the fleet had approached and landed to convey supplies to the victorious Roman units and their engineers. He’d taken the opportunity for an hour’s shut- eye then, but it had seemed ill-fitting for the commander of the fleet to lie abed on the flagship while his fleet worked throughout the night and morning to supply the forts.

Then, with the dawn light, the fleet had moved into the bay slowly, in a wide net, checking out each bay and cove on the many islands as they moved in toward their target. While Brutus had anticipated that the Veneti fleet would be docked in its entirety at Darioritum, it had been a necessary chore to scout the entire bay as they moved to make sure that no Veneti squadrons lay in wait to spring a trap from behind as they bore down on the city.

All in all, it had been a tiring two days with moments of sleep snatched where he could, out of sight of the men. He couldn’t even imagine how the rowers kept up this tremendous pace, sleeping as they had been for only two hours at a time and in shifts. They must be exhausted.

He watched with admiration the crew working hard and the minutes slipped past as he chewed on meat and bread and allowed the relief of a rest to wash through him.

Brutus realised to his embarrassment that he had actually fully drifted off as the trierarch shouted him for the second time.

“Yes?”

He clambered to his feet and glanced across to the man, who was pointing ahead. The young man rubbed his tired eyes. He could hardly blame himself for falling asleep in the circumstances, but he’d have preferred not to do so in full view of the crew as they worked.

His gaze followed the trierarch’s gesture past the rows of heaving oarsmen, across the massed ranks of the marines on the centre of the deck where they stood ready for action, and to the scene unfolding ahead of the ships.

He must have been asleep for some time and cursed the trierarch under his breath for leaving him to rest. They were rounding the last island, a long, narrow spit, and bearing down on the narrow entrance to the bay.

Ahead, the Veneti ships raced toward the gap.

Brutus straightened his tunic and shifted the cuirass that had slipped uncomfortably during his nap. Taking a deep breath, he strode to the rail where the trierarch stood.

“Have the hooks readied. We may only have one go at this, so it needs to work first time. If the wind picks up and they get an opening, we’ll lose them.”

The trierarch nodded and bellowed out his commands as the officer watched the enemy intently. The first few Veneti ships were approaching the channel.

“Now, Fronto… now!” he grumbled to himself.

Why wasn’t he…

But he was.

Brutus smiled as the first huge rock arced up from the stronghold on the promontory and fell into the water with a huge spray, halfway between the hulls of the two leading ships. Even at their current distance, Brutus could hear the shouts of panic and dismay.

“Any moment now” he muttered, his eyes flitting back and forth between the various ships.

Several more artillery shots left the ramparts of the two coastal forts. The first fell into deep water close to another vessel but the second and third hit home, one smashing through the hull of a ship, holing it instantly, the second shattering the deck boards of another and bouncing along the surface, wreaking havoc as it travelled.

The catapults having found their range, more and more heavy stones began to arc out from the promontories and fall among the Veneti fleet, while the ballistae began to fire, their huge bolts plunging in among the crews and passengers, killing indiscriminately.

Panic gripped the Veneti fleet and they veered as fast as they could, turning away from this deadly corridor. No vessel could make it though the narrow channel intact and they had quickly recognised that.

Brutus watched with satisfaction as the ships turned and tried to flee along the coast to the north, past Balbus’ fortification, trying to find an exit other than through the narrow channel or past the Roman fleet.

The wind was beginning to pick up, just as Brutus had been nervously anticipating. Now was the time; now or never.

He signalled the trierarch and, as the orders were given and passed from ship to ship, the entire Roman force changed direction and moved in to cut off the Veneti’s escape.

“Full speed! Bring us alongside them!”

A quick glance and he counted eleven vessels that were already disappearing beneath the waves at the entrance to the channel. Fronto and Balbus’ artillery had done a fine job, but had now ceased the barrage, as the Veneti moved away, for fear of striking a Roman ship.

He watched, taking short, tense breaths, as the Roman ships bore down on an intercept course, while he willed the wind to stay down long enough.

Slowly, the Aurora edged close to a huge Veneti ship. This was the first time Brutus had been aboard a Roman vessel as it closed on one the Gaulish ships and he stared, a lump in his throat. The deck of the enemy ship seemed so much higher, close up. If he stood on the trierarch’s shoulders he could grip the rail, but not on his own. The timber used in the construction was weathered and seasoned oak, thick and dark and strong. The enormous mass of folk on deck was an equally impressive and worrying sight. They would outnumber the Roman marines by about four to one.

In the last moments, Brutus had the heart-stopping fear that his hook-weapons would be too short.

The Aurora pulled alongside the fleeing Veneti vessel, the rowers shipping their oars at the last moment in order to allow the hulls to close safely.

“Hooks!” bellowed the captain.

All along the left hand side of the ship the ranks of rowers, having dropped their oars, grasped the weapons that had been stacked on the deck nearby and hoisted them up.

Brutus almost sagged with relief as he watched the hooks being raised. Thirty men along the rail lifted long, heavy poles with a sharpened hook affixed to the end, the base being held for stability by another rower.

Without waiting for a further command, the men began to hack at the halyards and rigging and any rope they could reach with the long poles, even managing the occasional swipe at the sail itself. Here and there, as the surprised Veneti rushed to the edge to try and fight off this bizarre and unconventional attack, the hooks were used to gruesome effect on the sailors before their attention was turned to the next rope.

Brutus grinned as the main sail of the ship suddenly came away from its pinned position with a ripping noise and whipped around uselessly.

The effect on the Veneti ship was instant and far more profound than even Brutus had expected. Bereft of its propulsion, the huge ship slowed rapidly. The oarsmen on the free side of the Aurora were still rowing like mad, using the pressure between the two hulls to keep their course straight, and the change in speed of their target resulted in the Roman vessel shooting out ahead.

The oarsmen quickly stopped their work, but Brutus grinned and yelled down at them.

“Keep going. Bring us round their other side and we’ll repeat the job there!”

His grin widened as he realised that the fleet were having similar successes all the way along, the Veneti