It was eerie, the silence as they hurtled forward. Satyrus stopped just short of the marines' box in the bow, grabbed the rail and pressed tight. Helios did the same.
'Brace!' yelled the marine captain.
Satyrus caught a glimpse – they were going in bow to bow. Poseidon, they were going in right on the enemy ram! It was terrifying in the bow, where the ram was part of you. His sphincter tightened and his whole body convulsed.
Neiron flicked the steering oars and the bow of the Golden Lotus seemed to dart to the left the length of a man – just enough to change the angle of their attack. The bow of the Lotus slammed into the enemy's upper-deck rowers' box and pushed the enemy bow, just a horse-length, but suddenly the enemy ram was pointing east and not south, and their own bow was ripping the strakes off the enemy ship.
As the impact brought them almost to a stop, Satyrus leaned forward to the marine captain. 'Clear the command deck. Ignore the rowers.'
The marine grinned.
'Blood in the water!' Satyrus yelled and leaped up on to the rail, heedless of the weight of his armour. He was on the rail for a fraction of a heartbeat, but for that instant time froze, and he saw the length of the enemy vessel – saw that he would be the first to board – and he felt that he was a god.
Then he was on their deck. One leg slipped from under him and a deck sailor went for him with a spear and died with an arrow in him, then Satyrus was up on his feet, pushing his shield into a man's gut. Hacking under it, over it, he brought the man down and pushed forward, pushed again then dumped his next opponent into the rowers and set his feet on the narrow catwalk. The marines on the command deck rushed him, but they had to come one at a time and the reforged Aegyptian sword sang in his hand. He glanced a heavy overhand cut deliberately off the man's shield, then rotated on his hips, driving forward with his sword foot and cutting back with the long kopis. He took the first marine's head clean off at the neck with the power of his blow, and his men let out a cry together.
The next man flinched and died with Helios's spear in his groin, pushed under both their shields, and Satyrus was free to push forward again. He could feel the weight of his own men behind him – and then more men were dropping on to the deck.
'Clear the command deck!' Satyrus roared.
The man behind the man he was facing was already turning to run.
Satyrus took a blow on his shield – an immense blow – and his shield split. He cut twice, as fast as he could, and then a third time, and then a fourth, and his opponent fended off every blow, but Satyrus's blows were so fast and so hard that the man couldn't launch an attack, though his shield was being pounded to splinters in turn.
Satyrus cut low, cut high and the man blocked, their swords ringing together like a hammer and anvil, the strokes keening over the wind. Satyrus began the feint for the Harmodius blow and his opponent stepped back to void his attack. He tripped over the body of a sailor behind him and went down. Satyrus stepped over him on to the command deck, leaving his fate to Helios. He had fought well.
He felt Helios's shoulder pressed into his back, and then it was gone as the boy pushed up the catwalk next to him. Then Theron was on his right, and as soon as he had flanks, he advanced, his shield foot forward. The man who faced him across the deck wore elaborate purple plumes in a plain Attic helmet and a long red cloak. Marines stood on either side of him and he cursed them for running, and there was a lull – one of those moments when men stop fighting for no reason, or every reason.
'Eumeles!' Satyrus called.
The man in the purple feather laughed. It was a hollow laugh, but not a coward's. 'Eumeles has run,' the plumes said. 'I'm Aulus, the navarch of Pantecapaeum.'
Satyrus took a deep, shuddering breath, and then another. Disappoint ment flooded him. 'I want Eumeles,' he said. 'Drop your sword and I'll spare every man on this deck.'
Aulus shook his head. 'When I'm bought, I stay bought,' he said, and slapped the face of his aspis with his blade. 'Come and take me.'
'Herakles!' Satyrus roared, and he went across the deck like a dart from a war machine. His aspis shattered as he rammed it into the enemy navarch's, but his sword was already moving and he ignored the massive pain in his shield arm and cut from high to low. He felt his blade bite into the man's thigh below his shield and the man screamed into his face.
And then the deck was clear, and they were moving on the waves. He looked down from the platform into the rowing decks, and the rowers looked back with slack, exhausted faces, almost uncaring if they lived or died.
He dropped the remnants of his aspis on the deck.
'Theron,' he panted. 'Theron – take command of this ship.'
Theron saluted silently.
Satyrus got over the rail with a hundred times the effort with which he'd come aboard and all but fell into his own ship. But willing hands caught him and put him on his feet, and Philaeus embraced him.
'Look, lord!' he shouted in Satyrus's ear, as if Satyrus might have become deaf.
Neiron was pounding his back.
The sea battle, such as it had been, was already over. And the enemy squadron on the distant beach was still there, bows moving in the gentle seas, sterns still clenched in the mud. One enemy ship was skimming the waves, just going ashore.
'That will be Eumeles,' Satyrus said. 'We're not done yet.'
Neiron pointed at the enemy camp beyond their line of ships. At the landward edge of the camp, an army was formed, and beyond it, men were dying.
'Ares,' Satyrus muttered.
'They started the battle without us,' Neiron said.
Satyrus couldn't make out who was fighting, although he could see Urvara's Grass Cat standard on a far hill.
'But…' Satyrus shook his head. His sword arm was a dead thing, and he massaged the muscle at the top of his arm. 'To Tartarus with them. We've won. We don't need a land battle.'
Neiron pointed at a swirling cavalry melee several stades away to the east. 'Try telling them.'
Satyrus took a deep breath, tempted to rail against the gods. A land battle just risked his sister without accomplishing anything. By crushing Eumeles at sea and trapping him here, far from his city, the war was over. He breathed again.
'Helios!' he called. 'Signal "All ships rally on me".'
Helios had a bandage on his arm and a blank look on his face.
'Helios!' Satyrus said again.
'Lord?' the boy answered.
'Signal "All ships rally on me"!' Satyrus put a hand on the boy's head. 'You going to live, lad?'
Helios nodded sheepishly.
Satyrus turned to Neiron. 'As soon as Panther comes up, I'm putting him in charge with orders to burn those ships or take them. Then I'm going ashore by boat – to the beacon.' He pointed at the beacon burning in the strong fort on the opposite headland.
But Panther didn't come. Abraham did, and Satyrus gave him the command.
'Don't delay. Go in and drag their ships off the beach, or throw fire into them under cover of your archers.' Satyrus was going to continue, but he could see irritation on Abraham's face.
'I think I can be trusted to burn some ships,' he said. But then he smiled. 'By god, Satyrus – we're doing it!'
'Not done yet,' Satyrus cautioned. Then he dropped into the small boat that they towed under the stern. 'Row!' he said.
24
The day after Samahe died saw the least combat of any day since the start of the campaign.
Both sides were exhausted.
At dawn, Melitta moved her camp, dragging her tired army by force of will to go south and west along the Tanais another thirty stades. They went up the ridge behind the Ford of Apollo's Shrine and camped behind the crest. The weather was clear and the sun high, and as soon as they stopped moving, most warriors were on their backs, sleeping in the sun.