The Emperor Series: Books 1-5

by Conn Iggulden

  Agrippa was squinting into the darkness, seeing and losing again the point of light that had appeared in the distance. The night sky had turned around the Pole Star, but dawn was still hours away and he could not understand who might be lighting fires on the hills of Capri as his fleet sailed past in the dark.

  ‘I need information, Maecenas!’ he said. He thought his friend shrugged, but in the darkness, he could not be sure.

  ‘No one knows where the enemy fleet is,’ Maecenas said. ‘We have clients on Sicily and every island along this coast, but they can’t keep us informed with no link back to land. You’re running blind, my friend, though I think you have to assume that fire is not just some herdsman warding off the cold.’

  Agrippa didn’t reply, his own frustration rendering him mute. The island of Capri was a great dark mass on his right shoulder as he came south, with just one point of light on the highest peak. He strained his eyes into the distant dark for any sign of galleys coming out to hit them.

  ‘I didn’t plan for an attack at night,’ he muttered. ‘My crews can’t use the grapnels if they can’t see the enemy.’

  ‘Sometimes the gods play games,’ Maecenas replied lightly.

  He sounded supremely unworried and his confidence helped Agrippa to find calm. He would have replied, but he saw something out on the deep water and leaned right over the rail, turning his head back and forth as he tried to make sense of the blurring shadows.

  ‘Don’t fall,’ Maecenas said, reaching out to grab his shoulder. ‘I don’t want to find myself in command tonight. You’re the only one who understands how it all works.’

  ‘By all the hells, I see them!’ Agrippa said. He was certain of it: the vague shapes of long galley hulls.

  ‘Cornicen! Blow three short!’

  It was the signal to form up on the flagship and he had to trust that the galley crews knew it meant to follow him. Agrippa snapped half a dozen new orders. The sea was like glass, but he needed light for everything he had planned to do.

  Maecenas watched with studied calm as the sails came down and the great oars were lowered into the water. Agrippa’s galley slowed and wallowed, then picked up speed once more as the oars bit and began the rhythmic movement that would push them much faster through the waves. He felt the increase and despite himself he smiled. Around them, the small fleet did the same, all pretence at subterfuge forgotten as the captains yelled their orders.

  The lull had brought the enemy galleys closer, though Maecenas could see the white foam from their strokes better than the ships themselves. His throat seemed to have gone dry and he filled another cup for himself, tossing it back.

  ‘We’ll run south along the coast until dawn,’ Agrippa said. ‘Gods, where is the sun? I need light.’

  In the distance, he could hear drums pounding as the galleys came lunging in, faster and faster. His own crews moved to half-speed and then the captain ordered it higher, notch by notch, as they tried to stay clear.

  ‘They can’t keep going like that, not for long,’ Maecenas said, though it was half a question.

  Agrippa nodded unseen in the dark, hoping it was true. He’d had his crews running miles around the lake for months. They were as lean and fit as hunting dogs, but the labour of heaving on oars was exhausting even for men in the peak of condition. He had no idea if the hardened legion galleys Sextus Pompey commanded could simply run his fleet down and ram them.

  ‘So why are you here?’ Agrippa said. He spoke to break the tension before it suffocated him. ‘I mean, here on the ships.’

  ‘You know why,’ Maecenas said. ‘I don’t trust you on your own.’

  Even in the gloom, they could both see the other man’s teeth as they grinned together. The sound of oars and drums seemed to grow every minute and Agrippa found his heart was racing like prey running from a wolf pack. The wind roared around his ears, making him turn his head back and forth to hear the enemy.

  ‘Why really?’ he said louder, almost shouting.

  As far as he could tell, the enemy galleys were almost on them and he tensed for the first crash of bronze rams into wood. There was no pretence of navigation any longer. The rowers below just heaved and pulled, putting every ounce of strength into each sweep.

  ‘The same reason you are risking your neck in complete darkness!’ Maecenas shouted back. ‘For him. It’s always for him.’

  ‘I know,’ Agrippa called back. ‘Do you think he knows how you feel?’

  ‘How I what?’ Maecenas yelled incredulously. ‘How I feel? Are you seriously choosing this moment, with our lives in the balance, to tell me you think I’m in love with Octavian? You pompous bastard! I can’t believe this!’

  ‘I just thought …’

  ‘You thought wrong, you ignorant great ape! Gods, I come out here to face brutal enemies with you – on the sea, no less – and this is what I get? Octavian and I are friends, you great hairy shit-pot. Friends.’

  Maecenas broke off as a thunderous crack sounded somewhere close. Men screamed and splashes followed, but the night was like black ink and they could hardly tell where the sounds had come from or whether it was one of their own crews drowning in the dark.

  ‘You and I will have words about this when it’s over!’ Maecenas snapped. ‘I’d call you out with blades right now if I could see you, if you weren’t the only one who knows how these galleys fight.’

  In the face of his appalled indignation, he heard Agrippa laugh. Maecenas almost struck him.

  ‘You’re a good man, Maecenas,’ Agrippa said, his white teeth still visible in the darkness.

  If Maecenas could have seen him, he’d have been worried at the great cords standing out on Agrippa’s neck and chest, every muscle and sinew drawn tight in fear and rage at the enemy. Agrippa was manic, unable to act with enemies all around him and no way of knowing if he’d be drowning at any moment. Talking to Maecenas had helped a little.

  ‘I am a good man, ape. And so are you. Now please tell me we can outrun these galleys.’

  Agrippa looked east, praying for the first light of the sun to appear. He could feel the galley creaking and stretching under him, a thing alive. Salt droplets sprayed across the deck, stinging his face with cold.

  ‘I don’t know,’ he muttered.

  Vedius stepped back from the prow of the galley, trying to see into the plunging blackness. Whoever was out there, they had a lot of ships. There had been a moment when he thought he’d fallen into some sort of trap, but then they’d run, their oars scything through the sea and churning it into white froth. He’d ordered full attack speed and closed the gap quickly on the strange, dark vessels running free before him. For a brief time, he called for ram speed. The galleys skimmed across the calm waters, driven as fast as they could go. He knew the rowers could not keep the brutal pace for long. Ram speed was the final surge of acceleration before striking an enemy, a hundred heartbeats at most before they had to fall back. His head came round in a jerk when he heard some sort of crash, but he could see nothing and the men below were already failing.

  ‘Ease back to half!’ he roared. He heard the falling horn note drone out, but there was still a bellow of fear behind him as one of his ships came close to ripping the oars off another.

  Vedius turned to one of his archers.

  ‘Do you have pitch arrows?’ he shouted.

  ‘Yes, sir,’ the man replied.

  Fire was not the tool it might have been at sea. The lumps of pitch and tar-cloth on the points robbed the arrows of decent range. In a close battle, Vedius had used them before against merchant ships, but mostly when the fighting was over and he had orders to burn them to the waterline. Wooden galleys moving at speed were soaked in sea spray from one end to the other and the arrows often extinguished themselves in flight or were quickly smothered when they hit an enemy deck. Even so, he gave the order and watched as two men brought up a small brazier filled with hot coals. They treated it like a precious child, terrified of spilling the coals on a wooden ship.
The arrow flickered yellow at the tip when the archer touched it to the brazier. In the red glow, Vedius watched in fascination as the man bent his bow and sent it soaring up and forward.

  They all watched the path of the shaft. For an instant, Vedius thought he saw oars moving in the dark like the limbs of a crab or spider before the arrow hissed into the black sea.

  ‘Another. Use a dozen or so, one at a time. And vary the direction. I need to see.’

  The bright points rose and fell again and again, giving just enough light for Vedius to make a picture in his mind. There were dozens of galleys out there, though he still could not count them. They too had eased back to half-speed, enough to keep them out of range of anything he could send in their direction. Vedius looked east, searching for the wolf-light that came before the dawn. For a time, he had wished Sextus were there to see this great prize, but in his absence Vedius’ confidence had grown and now he was content to be in command. When Sextus heard, he would know his friend had not let him down when it mattered. His galleys had spread out in a great net of ships, chasing down the prey at speed.

  Vedius felt his ship lurch and cursed aloud as they lost way. He could hear urgent shouting down below and growled to himself. One of the rowers had burst his heart or simply collapsed, fouling the oar and knocking the rest out of sequence. It happened occasionally and he knew the oar-master would be quickly among them, heaving the body out while the oar lolled and shoving in one of the soldiers to take his place.

  The galley slowed as the other oarsmen took the chance to rest, pleased at even a moment’s respite. Vedius let out a short bark of laughter when he felt the oars bite again and the speed increased. He had never ridden a horse into battle, but he assumed it felt much the same, with the enemy fleeing before him and the sun about to rise. His fleet plunged on through the wine-dark sea and he felt the excitement rise in him as he realised he could make out the prow under his hand. The sun was coming and he was ready.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Dawn came quickly out at sea, with no mountains or hills to block the first rays. The sun appeared first as a burning thread on the horizon, gilding the waves and revealing the two fleets to each other. Neither found much to please them. Agrippa swallowed nervously when he saw how badly outnumbered he was, while Vedius had not expected anywhere near that number of ships.

  As soon as the sun’s light cast away the dark, Agrippa was roaring new orders to his ships and running up flags. His captains had been forced to memorise a new system so that the enemy galleys would not be able to read his signals. It was with a grim satisfaction that he squinted north and watched the enemy commander send up flags he knew very well. It was another edge, that he could see what they intended and react just as fast as they could. Against so many galleys he needed every advantage he could get.

  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.