by Peake, R. W.
“They can’t maintain that speed for very long,” Balbus commented while we watched the Antonian fleet vainly trying to come to grips with the smaller ships facing them.
There was no doubt that the ships belonging to Antonius were more powerful, many of them equipped with high turrets at both ends of the ship on which several ballistae and scorpions were mounted. Each vessel carried a contingent of archers as well, along with the Legionaries, but unless they could actually close with, then grapple an enemy ship, they were essentially useless. Consequently, all that power came at a price; these ships were huge and took an extreme amount of effort to get them moving. Once in motion, they slowed quickly if the oarsmen did not keep up a steady momentum, which was draining their energy with every stroke. In order to get a ship of this size to ramming speed, it took a supreme effort that could only be sustained for moments at a time before the rowers had to be given a rest, which of course then killed the momentum of the ship. To observers like us it looked as if ships were moving in fits and starts, suddenly lurching towards an enemy ship that it had selected as a target, gaining speed as it closed, leaving a churning white wake that looked like the letter “V” behind it. Then the opposing ship would begin retreating and because they were much smaller, their movement would begin almost immediately after the oars first dipped into the water. Since they were not moving to engage, they were instead pulling farther away from the pursuing ship, drawing it farther from the coast with every stroke. This scene was being repeated across the water; it was clear that Octavian or Agrippa had given orders to try and wear the Antonian fleet down. In doing so, they were also drawing them farther away from the protection of the bay. In the event that Antonius should decide to retire, it was no longer a foregone conclusion that he could just have his men back-oar to retreat into the bay, for the simple reason that his huge ships could not go fast enough to make it to safety before being fallen upon by the Octavian fleet.
In terms of numbers, Scribonius had counted more than 400 ships for Octavian, while less than a hundred were anywhere near the size of most of the Antonians. However, what they lacked in power they clearly made up for with speed, so that after perhaps a third of a watch of this maneuvering back and forth, Antonius gave the order to rest, the ships sliding to a halt once again. The only difference was that Antonius’ wing was now separated slightly from the other two in order to counter Agrippa’s flanking attempt, and the entire fleet was now almost a mile farther from the shore. After the initial excitement from the men in seeing movement they had settled back down, breaking out the dice and tables to play while they waited to see what happened next, which looked very much like nothing.
“There’s a gap now between Antonius and Marcus Octavius,” Scribonius mused. “I wonder if Cleopatra will order her squadron up to plug the gap. If she does, then Antonius might be able to carry the day.”
I shook my head, sure that she would do no such thing.
“All she cares about is getting away back to Egypt. I think she’s going to wait for the rest of the fleet to engage, then I think she's going to make a break for it.”
As we continued to watch, the lull was seemingly over, Antonius ordering his ships forward again. This attack, however, Octavian and Agrippa did not try and avoid. In fact, they began closing the gap as well, their ships seeming to leap forward when compared to the ponderously slow charge from Antonius. With astonishing quickness, the sea was suddenly churning with movement as ships began to engage each other. It quickly became clear that even when their opponent did not flee and chose instead to face the attack, the Antonian ships were usually just too slow and clumsy to be able to ram the Octavian vessel they had targeted. Just a few strokes of the oars on one side or the other would see the smaller ship neatly slip to the side, letting the attacker churn by. We could just make out bright lines arching from one ship to the next, signs that they were firing flaming missiles at each other. With the battle progressing, the cohesion and spacing of the ships began breaking down, with gaps growing between the Antonian ships that gave the Octavian craft the opportunity to surround individual ships with multiple opponents.
Balbus summed it up when he said, “It looks like a bunch of bears being baited by a pack of dogs.”
In essence that was what was happening; the smaller but quicker Octavian ships were nipping at the lumbering Antonian vessels, darting in when they saw an opening, firing darts and missiles in an attempt to sweep the decks of Legionaries before they closed to grapple. Fairly quickly after this second phase of the battle started, smoke began to roil up from a number of the Antonian ships, with perhaps a dozen quickly surrounded and grappled by three and more Octavian ships. Despite being unable to see the fighting, we knew from experience that men were now trying to throw planks across the gap between ships or just leaping across to land on the deck of the other craft. Others would be hurling javelins to try and clear a space that would allow them to board without immediately being cut down. In short, it was the same as a fight on land, just in a much smaller space. And of course, if you fell in between the two ships you would either be crushed as they bumped together, or drown because your armor took you to the bottom. Otherwise, the same tactics applied and it was frustrating because we were far enough away that we could not tell how things were going once the fighting on the decks started. Men were now talking excitedly, pointing and alternately cheering or groaning as they watched individual battles, while the betting was spirited. Since they could not see how the hand-to-hand fighting was going any better than we could, they bet on individual ships and whether they caught fire, sank or capsized. I began watching the gathered army on the shore, which Canidius had arrayed on the beach, giving all the men a view of the action, and it was actually from their reactions that I gathered what was happening on the decks. One moment they would raise their fists, shaking them in jubilation, the next cover their faces or drop their head at the sight of another Antonian ship defeated. After another third of a watch, the sky was filling with columns of smoke, while true to Scribonius’ prediction several of Antonius’ ships toppled over after being struck by an Octavian vessel. Men appeared as tiny black dots bobbing in the water, along with the scattered wreckage of masts, spars, and oars, the black dots disappearing after a few moments when they were pulled under after becoming too tired to struggle any longer. The wind, which was gradually strengthening to a healthy breeze, shifted, now coming from the north. This was not unusual, although it did not happen every day and I doubt that Antonius and Cleopatra could have planned on it. However, at least one of them was quick to take advantage of the shift.
“I’m guessing that must be Cleopatra’s ship.” Scribonius pointed to a quinquereme that had hoisted a purple sail, the other ships in her squadron following her lead. “And it looks like she’s decided the battle is lost.”
I had heard about the giant sail of Cleopatra’s, that it had cost the staggering sum of 5,000 sesterces just to dye, using the best Tyrian purple, but seeing it fill with the wind above the deck of her ship was in fact quite a sight. Her squadron, gaining speed more quickly than the craft in the other squadrons, thanks to the stronger wind and use of oars at the same time, pointed themselves for the gap that had opened up earlier between Antonius and Octavius’ wing. The men of both Legions on the hill were watching Cleopatra’s ship and guessing the identity of its commander were openly jeering the departing queen, more than one man turning to bare his backside.
“Why do they do that?” Scribonius turned to me as he asked this, and I was not sure if he wanted an answer, so I said nothing. “It’s not like she can see their bare asses from the deck of her ship,” he persisted. “I just don’t see the point in making a futile gesture like that.”
I could tell that he was genuinely upset about it, and curious, I asked, “Haven’t you ever wanted to do something like that?”
He stared at me in astonishment. “By the gods no! Why would I want to expose my ass when there’s no point in it?”
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br /> “I seem to remember a young tiro who wasn’t shy about showing his ass to Gauls,” I pointed out, happy to see him blush a deep red.
“That was different,” he protested, albeit weakly. “They were just a hundred paces away and they could see it.”
Both Balbus and I roared with laughter at this, even Scribonius unable to pretend that he was offended as he joined in. Turning our attention back to the fighting, I pointed and I must admit that I was gloating a bit.
“See? I told you, she’s making a run for it.”
The leading ships of Cleopatra’s squadron had pulled roughly even with the first of the combatants scattered on either side of them. Making no attempt to change course to head in either direction where the fighting was taking place, Cleopatra was now clearly intent on escape, drawing even more jeers from the men.
“It’s a good thing I didn’t bet on it,” Scribonius said ruefully.
“For you, maybe,” I shot back.
The fighting was continuing, seemingly unabated, and it was not all one-sided. Some of the Antonian ships managed to either ram an Octavian vessel or had grappled it, subduing the men on the deck, then setting fire to the vanquished vessel before moving on. Other Octavian ships fell victim to the heavy artillery on the Antonian ships, sinking within moments of having a huge rock crash through their hull. It had become a confused mess of a battle, with the sun sinking lower in the sky, which would make matters even more difficult. Cleopatra’s ship was now sailing clear, despite several of the Octavian ships turning to head her off. From our vantage point, it was clear that they had moved too late. This was what I was watching unfold when Scribonius nudged me, pointing to the north.
“What’s going on over there?”
Following his finger, I saw the ship that we knew to be Antonius’ flagship sitting in the midst of the remnants of his squadron, those ships that were still operable heavily engaged. While Antonius’ ship had managed to avoid being grappled, the others in his squadron around him all had multiple craft surrounding them. What had drawn Scribonius’ attention was a lone trireme, one of the smaller galleys in the fleet, drawing alongside the Antonian flagship. At first, I thought that one of Agrippa’s vessels had managed to slip past the cordon of Antonians, but neither ship fired at each other. I could barely make out what was happening and I shaded my eyes, cursing for the thousandth time the blurred vision that comes with age.
“Is that a small boat going between the flagship and the trireme?”
As much as I hated asking that question, I was thankful Scribonius did not give me any grief about it, seeing how I had always had the keenest vision among us for many years. He squinted, making me feel better that he was obviously having problems as well.
Finally, he said doubtfully, “I think so. What do you think it means?”
“Antonius is getting on a faster ship so he can catch up to that bitch,” Balbinus interjected, again with a certainty that caught my attention.
“And how do you know that? Something else you overheard and forgot to mention?”
I knew that my tone was less than friendly, but I could not contain my irritation.
Balbinus refused to meet my gaze, and for a moment, I thought he was not going to answer.
“They had it planned beforehand. If the battle wasn't going well, Cleopatra and Antonius had arranged for one of her Egyptians to lag behind the fighting, then when Antonius gave the signal, come alongside and take him aboard.”
“You mean he’s just leaving the rest of them behind?” I asked incredulously, hardly able to believe it, yet somehow knowing it was true.
Balbinus just nodded and I forgot to press him about how he knew.
I exchanged looks with Scribonius, who said quietly, “If that doesn’t convince you that you made the right decision, nothing will.”
Balbinus was right. Antonius boarded the trireme, heading immediately for the open gap, the rowers pulling so furiously that their oars foamed the water with every stroke. The ship leaped across the bay, making us suspect that it had also been stripped and it was not carrying anything in the way of troops or supplies that would slow it down, its only purpose being what it was doing now, carrying Antonius to safety. Cleopatra’s squadron was still just visible on the horizon, sailing south towards the Peloponnesus, with the scattered wreckage and remnants of Antonius’ fleet spread all over the sea. There were still isolated fights going on, with a few Antonian ships trying to flee back to the bay, hounded every stroke by several of Octavian’s craft. Some of the surviving ships whose navarchae were a bit more quick-witted or who somehow knew in advance what Antonius was about had broken off to follow him. The sun was now hanging just above the western horizon, reflecting off the sea and making it very difficult to see, but one thing was clear from our vantage point; Antonius’ fleet had lost, and lost decisively. A group of Octavian’s ships set off in pursuit of what was effectively all that was left of Antonius’ fleet. The battle was obviously winding down and men were becoming bored and tired as the novelty of betting on the outcome had long worn off.
Balbus asked, “What do we do now?”
The truth was that I had not thought that far ahead; all that I had focused my thoughts and energy on was making sure that my Legion did not board the ships then dealing with the immediate aftermath of that decision. We had left our tents behind in the camp, along with our heavy baggage, and I had no intention of going down and getting all that, nor could I imagine Canidius just letting us in to retrieve it. As I thought about Balbus’ question, it became clear that we would have to spend the night on the hill and that it would be prudent to post a strong watch. We carried enough rations for two more days; after that we would have to procure more, along with our grinders and ovens. I was fairly confident that when Canidius vacated the camp he would burn all the tents, along with everything else flammable to keep the gear from falling into the hands of Octavian. The one good thing if Canidius did put everything he was not taking to the torch is that it would take care of the body of Sacrovir lying under my cot, but losing our gear would create more problems than it solved. Immediately after his men marched back into camp, they began striking their tents and packing, indicating that they planned on not waiting until the next morning to begin the march. That gave me some hope that perhaps he would not spare the time to burn everything, but there was nothing to be done except wait and see. Then, I was struck by a thought, so I walked over to Balbinus, who had rejoined his own Legion, pulling him to the side.
“Is Canidius going to leave us our tents and other gear when he pulls out?”
He looked startled at the question, but it was still light enough to see a look flash through his eyes that told me he knew the answer. Staring at him hard, he finally nodded.
“Yes, he's going to leave everything behind that doesn’t belong to the Legions marching with him.”
“That’s another thing you forgot to tell me?” I was angry now, and he took an involuntary step backward as he held his hands up.
“I was going to tell you,” he protested.
“When?”
“Later,” he said vaguely.
Biting back my reply, I stalked away. Balbinus was proving to be an untrustworthy ally and I resolved that I would not relax my guard around him at any time. Calling the Pili Priores, I gave the orders to get the men settled down as comfortably as possible, having them pull their cloaks out of their packs to wrap up in since it got cool at night. The breeze had been blowing steadily now for some time, not feeling like it would slacken, making me hesitant to have fires built. Without the protection of the walls of the camp, on this exposed hilltop, I was worried that sparks would fly if a strong gust of wind came, causing a fire. Deciding that the men would be grumbling anyway at the prospect of being deprived of the shelter of their tents, I took the risk. Diocles brought the animals and baggage back to the top of the hill, where he supervised the unloading, the men retrieving personal items that would make their night more comfortable
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Despite being fairly confident that there would be no trouble that night, I still ordered a half-strength watch, but cut the length of the shifts down so that men could get more rest. The ships of Octavian’s fleet had begun to retire back to their anchorage, leaving a few dozen still in various stages of destruction. Some were still burning fiercely, illuminating the sea around them as the light grew dim, but most had already burned down or capsized. A few of Octavian’s vessels had captured Antonian ships in tow, while other Antonians that were still able to move under their own power but had surrendered were being escorted back to Octavian’s camp. Watching them, I wondered what would happen to the men on board, particularly the Legionaries. I did not believe that Octavian would act harshly with them, but only time would tell. There were a handful of Antonian ships that did not escape with the remnants of the fleet in pursuit of Cleopatra, yet had managed to evade capture by escaping back into the bay and in the last light we could see the crews and Legionaries trudging back to Canidius’ camp, leaving the ships on the beach. The battle of Actium was over, the only thing left seeing what happened in the morning. Sitting and talking quietly with the Pili Priores, I prepared them for the next day before we retired. Rolling up in my cloak, the ground was hard beneath my body and I knew that I would have aches in the morning that had never been a problem when I was younger. My last thoughts before drifting off were not of what the next day would bring, but of Miriam, wondering what she was doing, and when I would see her again.
I was roused shortly before dawn by a call from the duty Centurion. Dragging myself to my feet, my back and hips aching from the cold and the hard ground, I stumbled a bit while I tried to shake the sleep from my head, wondering what had happened to cause the alarm. Moving carefully among the men, most of who were just sitting up themselves, I went to the spot lower on the hill where the sentries on the north side were placed. The duty Centurion happened to be Glaxus and I greeted my former Optio with a growl that he better have a good reason for rousing me. In answer, he pointed down towards the camp, where I could see that more torches were lit and in the pools of light thrown by them, we watched men moving about.