Emperor: The Blood of Gods (Special Edition) (Emperor Series, Book 5)

by Conn Iggulden

  The larger fleet responded with all the legion discipline Agrippa had expected, widening the line and forming a great curve on the sea as they rowed forward. They had the numbers. He could see only the closest sixty of the galleys facing him, but there were many more behind, blocked from view by their own ships. Agrippa took a deep breath, forcing himself to be calm. He had planned for this and lost sleep for this. He could not shake the sense of cold dread that gripped him, but he had done everything he could to give himself a chance against such a host.

  ‘Signaller, ready the “attack” flag. Put “prepare” up on the mast.’

  Agrippa stared at the great arc of ships coming for him. They were no more than a mile away and he could read the flags flashing between them. He nodded as the order for ‘Attack speed’ went up on what must be their flagship. There. Whoever commanded them was in the very centre.

  ‘That one is ours,’ he yelled. ‘Signal “back oars”, “turn” and “attack”!’

  It took time to send, but Agrippa’s galleys had seen his signal to prepare and reacted at great speed. In just moments, they went from running before the enemy to a dead stop in the water and then began the slow turn, where they were most vulnerable. If the enemy could reach them as they presented their flanks, they would be near helpless. Agrippa saw the enemy galleys accelerate like birds taking flight, churning up the sea. They were too late. Agrippa’s galleys faced them head-on, leaping forward as the oars swept down and back once more.

  The two fleets came together at a terrifying pace.

  ‘Gods, there are so many of them!’ Maecenas said, gripping the rail with his knuckles showing white.

  Agrippa did not respond, his eyes taking in every detail against the glare of the sun. It was not as simple as each of his ships taking two of the enemy. He knew that if he could destroy their command ship and scatter the others, if he could just survive the first clash, he had a chance.

  He called over one of the helmsmen, who passed control of the galley to another while Agrippa pointed out the ship he wanted. The man squinted into the sunlight and took a bearing, then raced back to the stern to guide them in. Agrippa could have just roared his orders from the prow back to him – the galleys were short enough – but he wanted to be accurate.

  His small fleet would strike up the centre; they had no other choice. The enemy would flank them immediately, but galleys were not as responsive as legion manoeuvres. To sink his ships, they had to ram at speed or lock the galleys together with a corvus bridge and get on board.

  The fleets raced closer and Agrippa could only hope he had prepared his men well enough. The first test at sea was one of nerve, with opposing captains shouting orders left and right to guide them in and outguess the other man. Agrippa swallowed hard. The first weapon was his own ship, which could strip the oars from an enemy as it ripped past, killing half the rowers on one side – if he guessed correctly. If he got it wrong, a head-on collision, prow to prow, could sink them both before a single sword was drawn.

  He found himself panting in fear and exhilaration as he saw the enemy captain with an arm wrapped around the prow. Agrippa could see the oars plunging back and forth. He knew legion commanders preferred to dip left from instinct, presenting their right side and their strongest arm to an enemy. Yet he did not know if the galley was commanded by a legion man or one of Sextus Pompey’s pirates.

  ‘Ready corvus bridge!’ he roared. ‘Ready harpax!’ The grapnel teams exulted in the name they had chosen for his new weapon. The ‘robbers’ would steal whole ships if they could make them work in the chaos of a battle.

  All around, his fleet was meeting the enemy, but Agrippa had to focus on just one galley as it soared towards him. If his nerve went and he turned too early, the other captain would have a clear shot at his side and the ram would smash through, holing him below the waterline. Agrippa counted down in his head as the ships raced in without slowing. At fifty paces apart, the other galley had not deviated an inch and Agrippa knew suddenly that the man in command would not move off course, arrogantly certain that his opponent would turn and run. He could not have said how he knew, except for the rock-steady course he followed.

  ‘Agrippa?’ Maecenas said quietly, watching the approaching galley with sick fascination.

  ‘Not yet,’ Agrippa muttered.

  He made his decision in the last instant, leaving it as late as he could.

  ‘Oars in port side! Now! Oars up on the free!’

  On the left side, where a ship unloaded in a port, the oars came in smartly, heaved across the knees of the rowers. On the free side opposite, the oars came out of the water so the galley could stay on course. The helmsmen pushed the steering oars against the wooden stops, so the galley began to swing right, its speed hardly dropping.

  Agrippa tensed, grabbing the rail as his galley sheared along the enemy ship, the sharp prow crashing through dozens of oars. He heard screaming pass him as the great beams of wood crushed men in the oar-benches, snapping their backs and cutting across them. Splinters flew in a deadly hail below their deck as the two galleys passed, leaving the enemy ship torn open.

  Agrippa’s crew gave a roar of triumph as they dipped their oars back to the sea on both sides. They wanted to finish off the wounded vessel, but another was coming at them and to turn and present a flank would have been suicide.

  Agrippa saw one galley ahead and another slightly further back on his right side.

  ‘Ready harpax! Target on the free side!’

  All around him, ships were locked in battle. Many had lost their oars on both sides, rendered completely helpless. More than one had been ripped right open in the impact, so that they were heeling over, already beginning to sink. Even as he risked a glance around, he saw two hulls turn over and ease beneath the surface, with bodies studding the waves and thrashing in a stream of silver bubbles.

  The opposing galley was pouring on speed to repay him for his first attack, but as the second one began to pass, Agrippa bellowed an order to his harpax crews. The grapnels soared out and the enemy crews watched with open mouths as they reached and gripped. His legionaries made the capstans spin and the rest of his fighting men raced to the port side to prevent their ship going over as they were dragged sideways across the waves.

  The galley he had been facing head-on seemed to slide left. Agrippa’s crew staggered as the galley they had latched on to tipped and capsized. It started to sink as the hold filled with water and Agrippa felt his own galley tipping over as the grapnels remained lodged.

  ‘Axes! By Mars, cut the ropes!’ he roared, a note of panic entering his voice.

  He cursed the copper wires woven into the cables. They resisted the first blows while his ship continued to tilt, dragged over by the vanishing galley. The first rope parted with a twang that could be heard by all those around. The second of three went with two men hacking frenziedly at it, then the third, which whipped across the face of one of the soldiers, sending him spinning into the water with his face a mass of blood.

  Agrippa’s galley crashed back, raising a wave of spray that drenched half the men on the slippery deck.

  ‘Harpax crews!’ he shouted, already hoarse. ‘Fit more ropes and grapnels.’

  They had a second set, but while they had been locked together, another galley had slid up to his side at full speed. Agrippa barely had time to order the port oars in once more before the ships grated together, a long, groaning sound. He showed his teeth as he saw the enemy corvus bridge lifted up by sweating soldiers.

  ‘Corvus teams! Up and over! Repel boarders!’

  He would not leave his post at the prow, but he saw Maecenas draw a gladius and pick up a shield from where they were stowed in a wooden rack. With the first wave of soldiers, Maecenas raced to the spot where the enemy must come, while their own corvus bridges were thrown up. The enemy ship had come in at an angle, so that the one closest to the stern could not reach. It stuck out into the breeze like a wooden tongue, men standing uselessly be
hind it. The one closest to the prow slammed down into the enemy deck, the great iron spike at its head lodging immovably in the wood.

  Agrippa’s soldiers poured over the narrow bridge, while still more of them defended those trying to gain their own deck. Agrippa could see a century of legion soldiers on the enemy galley, but his second advantage showed itself immediately. Each of his rowers had won his place in sword tourneys. They left their benches and raced up onto the deck, three times as many fighting men as the enemy legionaries and each one a veteran and a skilled swordsman. Maecenas went with them over the corvus bridge, battering men back with his shield as his group fought to make space for more to come over.

  It was slaughter. For a brief moment, both sides fought their way onto the opposing ship, but the ones that reached Agrippa’s galley were cut down in moments, their bodies thrown over the side to sink. His own soldiers hacked and killed their way through the enemy crew and went down into the hold to threaten the rowers there.

  A cheer went up as they dragged the captain to the deck, a man in a plumed helmet who had tried to hide himself below when he saw his ship was taken. Still alive, he was thrown overboard to drown in his armour – and Agrippa’s men had another ship. He was tempted to take it for his own, but the enemy fleet still swarmed all around.

  ‘Set fires and get back quickly,’ he ordered, watching the sea in all directions for a new threat until black smoke rose over the screaming of oarsmen. Agrippa closed his ears to the sound. There was no justice in such a battle. He knew they had not chosen to attack him, but there was no help for it and he could not show mercy. His soldiers came back on board and the corvus bridges were levered out of the decks with fallen swords.

  The galleys eased apart and the pillar of smoke thickened quickly, roaring yellow in the hold. Agrippa shouted encouragement to his men as they took their positions once again at the oars, dropping red blades at their feet and placing their blistered hands on the wooden beams. All around him his small fleet was still fighting.

  It was a strange lull. The battle had spread over a vast distance as the galleys ran each other down. The water was covered in a slick of oil and splinters and floating bodies, some of them still moving. Agrippa could see any number of upturned hulls and had no way of knowing if they were his own or those of the enemy. For those still fighting, he knew every ship he’d built, with just a glance. He was pleased at the numbers. He turned at the cracking thump of catapults and saw threads leap out again from one of his ships, dragging another of the enemy galleys close enough to kill. Whether by luck or because they had learned not to rush a single rail, it remained upright, and then his swordsmen came charging over two corvus bridges and that ship too was taken.

  Maecenas returned to his side, panting from his exertions. He looked around him in wonder, having never seen a battle at sea before.

  ‘Are we winning?’ he said, resting his sword on the rail.

  Agrippa shook his head. ‘Not yet. Half the ships you see are disabled. We could take those, but there’s no point.’

  He signalled quarter-speed to the oar-master and the galley eased between burning vessels. They could all hear crying, screaming men in the infernos they passed and the black smoke choked them. The breeze had begun to freshen, driving the smoke away to the east. To Maecenas’ shock, the sun was still low in the morning sky, though he thought they had been fighting for many hours.

  As they moved through the devastation of the battle, Agrippa sighted the first ship they had struck. The captain’s crew had worked hard to transfer oars to the broken side and restore some movement to his battered ship. Agrippa saw new signals fluttering on its mast and he watched to see how many ships could still respond. It seemed to take an age for them to answer, but he saw flags go up on galleys in the distance as they began to come back.

  He sent up his own signal to regroup on his flag and then there was nothing to do but wait.

  ‘Now we will see,’ he said grimly. He sought out the closest galley that looked undamaged but carried the colours of the Roman fleet on its mast. Agrippa raised his voice to carry to his crew. ‘That one. There’s no point waiting for them to come to us.’

  His men were exhausted after rowing all night and then fighting after that, but Maecenas could see the savage delight in the harpax crews as they coiled ropes and wound back the catapults. They were in no mood to lose after coming so far.

  Vedius felt a dim red fury as he watched the enemy flagship run up new signals. They made no sense, even to the ex-perienced legion signallers he commanded. Whoever the man was, he was a cunning bastard, Vedius thought to himself. Those flying grapnels had devastated his galleys. He’d seen three of them turned over before his very eyes while he struggled to restore something like order to the oar crew below his feet.

  He shuddered briefly as pictures flashed in his mind. There had been a time when Vedius had believed nothing could ever turn his stomach. He’d witnessed murder and rape with utter calm. Yet on the deck below, bodies and limbs were jammed obscenely together, crushed by the oars and the impact with the other ship. He did not want to go back down there, to the stench of open bowels and more blood than he could believe, so that it pooled and gathered with the roll of the ship. More than sixty men had died as their own oars cut them to pieces. He had been helpless then, waiting for the impact of a ram to send the rest to the bottom. Yet he had not panicked and his legion crew had gone to work with hard faces and Roman discipline, clearing the slippery corpses and moving oars over at good speed. One or two had lost the contents of their stomachs as they worked, but they’d just wiped their mouths and moved on. Menas had been one of those and Vedius had formed something like respect for the Roman officer. Menas had not shirked the labour, pitching in with the others and coming away so covered in blood he might have been working in a slaughterhouse.

  For a time, all Vedius could do was watch and give signals to keep his fleet together as the enemy cut through them. Every last one of the bastards had been armed with those appalling grapnels and when the ships came together, they went through good legion soldiers like a scythe through wheat. He had seen four of the enemy ships rammed and sunk, and his men cheered each one, but Vedius knew he had lost many more. Even now, with some way on his galley once more, he could see a great part of his fleet listing or burning, or simply drifting helplessly, with oars sheared away and dead men lying still on the deck.

  With narrowed eyes, he saw the enemy commander’s galley come easing back, its prow pushing splinters and bodies aside as it came. As he stared, it accelerated in a new direction, like a wasp attacking one of the ships he had called back to him. Vedius swore impotently. With half his oarsmen dead, he could not keep up with them, never mind stage a ramming action that would do serious damage. For the first time he considered saving as many ships as he could and simply getting away. Sextus would want to hear about these new weapons and tactics.

  He held back from giving the order, wanting to see first how many of his ships survived. For all he knew, he still outnumbered the enemy and could yet turn disaster into a victory, no matter what it cost.

  From all sides, ships rowed back to him as soon as they saw the flags. With each one returning, Vedius’ heart sank further. They were battered and broken, their sides running with blood or gashed open so that he could see through to rowers sitting just feet above the waves. Many would be lucky to make it back to shore. He could see only three that had come through unscathed, their crews staring out at the rest in shock as they took in the scale of destruction. Vedius shook his head. He knew they were not used to losing, but that did not change the reality of it. That small fleet of forty or fifty ships had torn them apart.

  Twenty-nine galleys came limping back to his position and by then the enemy commander was engaged in a corvus battle with one of them. Vedius watched with hope until he saw smoke billow out from the oar-benches and the enemy move on, seeking out fresh targets. It too had sent up a new signal, though he could not read it. Ved
ius saw other ships come rowing in, forming up on their command galley in good order. Staring into the sun, Vedius did his best to count the enemy ships and did not enjoy the result.

  ‘Menas! Count them again! The sun is throwing shadows on my eyes.’

  His second in command muttered numbers aloud, though the ships shifted position all the time as they gathered.

  ‘Twenty-three … twenty-five … twenty … eight. I think that’s it. Shall I order an attack, sir?’

  Vedius closed his eyes for a moment, rubbing weariness out of them with his thumbs. He could not say it had been a good life, not really. He’d had some good days, that was all.

  ‘Stop thinking like a legionary, Menas. It’s time to run for the coves we know.’

  Menas nodded. ‘Very well, sir,’ he said.

  He gave the orders and the battered galleys began to row south towards Sicily.

  Maecenas was staring into the distance as the two fleets formed up. Agrippa knew by then that they’d lost only twenty galleys, though it still weighed on him like a failure. His harpax weapons had proved both deadly and effective in the battle and the double corvus bridges and expert sword crews had done the rest.

  ‘They are retreating … that way,’ Maecenas said.

  Agrippa came to stand by his shoulder.

  ‘South, it’s south,’ he said. His voice was drained of any pride by then, almost too weary to speak at all.

  ‘Will you follow?’ Maecenas asked.

  ‘I have to. They are heading the way I want to go. I don’t mind losing another day to chase them down and burn the rest of them. They can’t outrun us now.’

  ‘You think we can do it again, against Sextus Pompey?’ Maecenas asked.

  Agrippa looked around him. A dozen ships nearby were burning, avoided by his galleys as they feared burning sparks and ashes setting their own craft on fire. Others had turned over and could not be salvaged, but there were many more waiting to be taken, their crews slaughtered.