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Argyle answered, and retrieved a spyglass from his pocket, studied the ship for a second, then passed the glass to his captain. "Aye. It's the Aquila."
Liam flattened the spyglass with a snap and handed it back, no expression visible on his face at all. Someone from the crow's nest, far above, called out, " 'Ware ballista!" and Cecilia shaded her eyes to see something that looked like a massive, oversized spear arcing toward them. It hit toward the bow, ripping through wood like butter.
"That'll be a week in port," Argyle said with a sigh. "Hell and damnation."
"He's playing with us," Liam said, even as he spun the wheel, and the Sweet Mourning responded with another rapid change of course. "Any sign he's preparing to use his fire ca
"Not as yet," Argyle said. "If he does, there's little enough we can do about it."
The other ship glided smoothly up to their port side, close enough that Cecilia could see the elegant long lines of her form, and three banks of holes that were too small to be ca
One man stood alone toward the curved fishtail at the stern, muscular legs spread for stability. He was broad and sturdy, dressed in a splendid set of Roman-era armor, complete to shining helmet with a vivid crimson brush. The tunic underneath the armor was bloodred, and he glittered in the sun like some dangerously invincible god.
The Roman captain—what else could he be?—faced them as the two ships drew even with each other, and inclined his head. "Captain Lockhart," he said, in a voice loud enough to carry over a melee-filled battlefield, never mind a short span of water. "Well met on favoring seas."
"Better never met at all, you garlic-eating bastard," Liam shouted back. "What the devil are you playing at, Salvius?"
Salvius advanced to the rail of the ship, put both hands on it, and stared across at Liam. No, Cecilia realized with a shock, he was staring at her.
Liam realized it too. "What do you want, Roman?"
"Word travels," Salvius said. "I heard it from the Dutchman's own mouth that you'd broken free of your curse."
"So you came to gawp?" Liam said. "To put ballista holes in my deck for sport? To settle old grudges?"
Salvius unexpectedly gri
" 'Ware arpax!" someone cried on the Sweet Mourning, and a massive bridge snapped up, as if spring-loaded, from the deck of the Roman ship, wide enough that two or three men could walk abreast on it. One end was fastened to the deck of that ship with some kind of hinges; the other had a lethal-looking bronze beaklike hook on the end, and it crashed down on the Sweet Mourning's railing, splintering it, and dug deep into the wood of the deck, locking the two ships together.
And Roman sailors and soldiers began pouring across the bridge, roaring out a battle cry.
Cecilia pulled her pistol and cutlass. The pirates—her pirates—were already shouting and rallying to meet the invasion.
Captain Salvius hadn't moved from where he stood, still watching the three of them on the quarterdeck. His face was weathered, ageless, and very hard.
"As you said, Captain, your men are mortal now," he said. "Mine aren't. Stand them down, Liam. There's no need for deaths."
"I could send you to the bottom with a broadside. Short range. No misses."
"You could," Salvius said, and gri
Liam made no reply for a few seconds, and then, "What terms?"
"Throw down arms and none of you will be harmed. I'll release you to sail off as clean as you please, once I have what I want."
Down on the decks, men were fighting, but Cecilia realized with a chill that they were also being hurt, maybe dying. She could see blood streaking the decks, and the Romans, despite being shot and stabbed, continued to press ahead with their attack. They would win. There was no other possibility.
Liam knew that too; she could see it in the stiff, angry set of his shoulders. He clasped his hands behind his back.
"And what is it you want, Salvius?"
Salvius shook his head. "After you throw down arms and give your surrender."
Argyle took hold of his captain's arm. "Don't," he said. "We can shake them. We've done it before."
"We've done it when we were invulnerable to shot and steel," Liam said. "We've done it when the Mourning had the devil's wind at her back and healed herself from the wounds she took in battle. We can't do it now."
They stared at each other, and then Liam shook off his first mate's hand. He took in a deep breath and said, "The ship is yours. You have my parole. Call off your sea wolves." And he put his cutlass and pistol down on the deck.
Salvius gestured to another uniformed Roman standing nearby, who gave some blasts on a shrill whistle; the attacking Roman sailors and soldiers backed off, giving the crew of the Sweet Mourning time to pull together in a defensive line and drag their wounded and dead out of the way.
"Throw down your arms, men," Liam shouted. "Do it now!"
Cutlasses, daggers, and pistols rained to the decking, some reluctantly. Cecilia realized she was still clutching hers, and forced herself to bend and lay them on the wood.
When she straightened, Argyle was still holding on to his, and Liam was facing him, sober and steady. "It's an order, damn you." Liam's voice unexpectedly softened. "Duncan. Put aside your weapons. I swear, I will not let him take you aboard that ship."
Argyle finally nodded, one sharp, convulsive nod, but his eyes were still wild and strange. He let his sword and pistol fall and assumed a stoic parade rest, as did Liam, as Captain Salvius moved through the crew of his own ship and crossed the temporary wooden bridge—the arpax?—and stepped onto the deck of the Sweet Mourning. He advanced toward the stern of the ship, sandaled feet thumping on the wood in confident strides, and his red cloak billowed behind him like a flag.
When the Roman stepped onto the quarterdeck, he smiled, and turned toward Cecilia.
"I am Aulus Salvius Lupus," he said. "I have the honor to be trierarch of the Roman vessel Aquila. And you would be… ?"
She licked her lips and tasted salt, either from sweat or sea spray. "Cecilia Lockhart. Wife of Captain Lockhart."
"Wife?" Salvius cut a look toward Lockhart. "Indeed. My congratulations. And how long since the happy day?"
"One," she sighed.
"Ah, that's good. Then he won't miss you much," Salvius said, and nodded to his second in command, who simply grabbed Cecilia, pi
The color drained from Liam's face, leaving him as white and hard as bone. "Aulus," he said, low in his throat, "if you don't release her now, this will go badly. Very badly."
"I agree," Salvius said pleasantly. "Very badly indeed, for you. I'd rather not wash the decks with your blood, Liam, but one way or another, I'm having your witch."
Liam kept his calm, somehow. "Why?"
Salvius shrugged. "Profit. I expect the Dutchman will be along, soon enough, and Mad Peg, and all the rest, sniffing around for some hope of being freed of their eternal and well-deserved damnation. She's a valuable commodity." His voice hardened to ice and glass. "So don't stand in my way."