‘I can’t see, sir. It’s too low down on the horizon.’
‘Neptune’s hairy arse crack,’ said the captain under his breath.
Pushing a laughing Publius towards Elira, Aurelia went to the captain’s side. ‘You’re worried,’ she said as Tempsanus joined them. Agesandros had somehow managed to put himself within earshot too.
‘There’s no point lying. I am.’ The captain made a sign against evil. ‘Marcellus’ ships dominate these waters, so more than likely it’s one of ours. But there’s no guarantee. The Syracusans send out vessels from time to time. It could even be a gugga trireme, blown north. The point is, we won’t know until we’ve got a lot closer, perhaps even entered the straits. If it does turn out to be unfriendly at that point, we’ll be so near that it might be able to run us down.’
‘What should we do?’ asked Tempsanus, his normal jovial expression absent.
‘Go a little closer, perhaps. See if the sail gives us an idea of its identity. Or we could just turn about, and row north. If it doesn’t follow us, so much the better. We can anchor off one of the Lipari Islands overnight and set sail before it gets light. We’d be in Rhegium in no time.’ The captain’s tone left no doubt that the latter option would be his choice, but he was not the master. Tempsanus was, because he’d chartered the vessel. Aurelia’s pulse beat a little faster as she glanced at her husband’s partner. She wanted to reach their destination as fast as possible, but not at any cost.
‘Avoiding trouble seems the best option,’ said Tempsanus, casting a look at Aurelia. ‘One more day won’t matter.’
Aurelia smiled in acceptance. I’ll be with you soon, husband, she thought. Hold on.
The captain was noticeably relieved by Tempsanus’ words. He cupped a hand to his mouth. ‘Reef the sails, and look lively about it!’
A dozen of the crew scrambled to the lines, but they had barely touched them when the lookout shouted ‘Sail!’ for the second time.
‘Where?’ yelled the captain.
‘Behind us, sir. It’s come out of nowhere. Must have been in the lee of one of the islands.’
All eyes turned to the ship’s stern. Perhaps a mile to their rear, a square sail, larger than theirs, could be seen plain as day. The captain cursed, and Aurelia felt a little sick. She didn’t need to be told that the newcomer had the wind behind him. If it was using its oars as well, they’d be overtaken before long.
‘Leave those lines be!’ roared the captain. He glanced at Tempsanus. ‘That one’s not friendly, sir, not the way he appeared. I don’t want to hang around to check, which leaves us no choice.’
‘To run south, and pray that the ship there is not an enemy?’ said Tempsanus.
‘If that’s all right with you, sir.’
‘Do as you see fit. A thousand extra drachms for you if we make Rhegium tonight.’
The captain’s teeth flashed. ‘I’ll do my best, sir.’ He stalked down the catwalk, ordering the fifty crewmen to their benches and for the oars to be run out. ‘I want us at top speed,’ Aurelia heard him tell the second-in-command. ‘Our best chance of outrunning them is now. You know what the wind’s like when we enter the strait-’
‘Unreliable as a Phoenician moneylender in a bad mood, sir.’
‘If it’s blowing to the south, we’ll be laughing. But if it’s the other way around?’ The captain grimaced.
Aurelia’s fear grew a fraction more. Prayer was her only resource. She tried not to feel hopeless about that.
Before long, their fortunes had taken a further turn for the worse. The ship behind them had caught up sufficiently to block their route north, and the sail that they’d seen to the south turned out to belong to a trireme. Bigger, faster, with more than three times the number of oarsmen, it scythed through the waves towards them. The painted eyes above its ram were hideous, and its decks bristled with soldiers and archers. A standard near the prow revealed it to be Syracusan.
Fear blossomed on Aurelia’s ship. The oarsmen slowed their stroke, yet no one said a thing. ‘They must row!’ said Tempsanus, a sheen of sweat decorating his brow.
‘What’s the point?’ retorted the captain. ‘We’re done.’
Tempsanus seemed about to protest when a voice speaking bad Latin carried across the water: ‘Heave to, or we’ll ram you!’
Throwing an I-told-you-so expression at Tempsanus, the captain ordered the oars shipped.
‘Can we not fight?’ demanded Tempsanus.
‘That lot? We’re sailors, sir, not soldiers.’
The trireme closed to within a long bowshot. It was aiming to come in beside their vessel. Men were clustered at the side rails, ready to board the instant that the two craft closed with each other.
‘I’ll make it worth your while.’
‘We’d be massacred, sir. Sorry to say, but your drachms are no longer worth a thing.’
Aurelia fought to stay calm. For a change, she was grateful for Agesandros’ presence by her side. ‘What will happen?’ she asked the captain, pleased that her voice was steady.
‘With a little luck, lady, they’ll just seize the ship and force us to serve as its crew, with a captain and officers of their own.’ He hesitated before adding regretfully, ‘As for you passengers, well, I couldn’t say.’
Aurelia’s gaze moved to Tempsanus’ face, which was twisted with fear.
‘We’ll be enslaved,’ grated Agesandros. ‘Killed if we’re unlucky.’
Aurelia locked her knees to keep them from folding. I’ve been so stupid, she thought. I should have taken Tempsanus’ advice, and stayed in Rome.
‘I can kill you now,’ muttered Agesandros. ‘And your son. It would save you both a lot of suffering.’
Horrified, Aurelia checked his face. The offer was genuine, she saw. So too was the concern in his eyes.
‘Terrible things could happen to you. You have no idea-’
‘No.’
‘What if Publius is sold to someone else? Have you thought about that?’
‘That will not happen! I will appeal to the captain. He’ll recognise that I’m a noblewoman.’
‘That will make little difference,’ said Agesandros.
‘You’re not killing us,’ she hissed. ‘What will you do?’
‘Let myself be taken. Slavery’s nothing new to me. I’ll escape when my chance comes. If I can help you then, I will.’
Aurelia swallowed, and prayed harder than she had at any time since before Cannae. Spare me and my child. Spare us all.
Another order came over, in the same poor Latin. ‘Lay your oars in!’
The captain hastily repeated the command, and the crew heaved in their sweeps, the port-side ones completing the task just as the trireme came gliding in alongside. Its oars had already been neatly shipped. Thunk, thunk, thunk. Timber ground off timber as the two hulls met. The Syracusans didn’t wait for their ship to stop moving. Half a dozen, then a dozen soldiers leaped on to the merchantman’s deck, their weapons drawn. ‘Throw down your arms!’ yelled one in mangled Latin. He repeated the command in Greek.
The few crew on the deck fell to their knees, begging for mercy. The men at the oars didn’t even lift their eyes. The captain raised his hands in the air and said in passable Greek, ‘We’re unarmed. The ship is yours.’
Agesandros stepped in front of Aurelia, who had beckoned Elira and Publius to her side. To his credit, Tempsanus did the same. ‘Stay calm, my lady,’ he whispered. ‘I will defend you.’
‘No, Tempsanus,’ she protested, but he had stepped forward. ‘We are civilians,’ he began.
The lead soldier’s reply was instant, and brutal. He shoved his sword into Tempsanus’ belly, right up to the hilt. There was a terrible ‘Ooooffff’ of pain, which quickly became a scream. Using his shield, the soldier pushed Tempsanus off his blade, and down into the midst of the oarsmen. There he roared in agony. The soldier eyed Agesandros, who was next, with cold eyes.
Aurelia felt Agesandros tense. Despite their troubled history, there was no point in him throwing away his life like this. It would achieve nothing. ‘Stop,’ she whispered, before stepping around him. ‘I am a Roman noblewoman,’ she said loudly in Greek. ‘Harm me at your peril.’