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'Thank you, sir.'

'You're to meet him ten miles off the cape at Mortepontum shortly after sunrise so he can be sure that you're alone and that he can escape if you're not.'

'He's a cautious man, sir.'

'He has to be. You know the saying: there are old pirates and bold pirates but no old bold pirates.'

Cato nodded thoughtfully and looked Vitellius in the eye. 'You know, sir, this Telemachus sounds like the kind of man you could learn from.'

'Thanks for the advice, Centurion. But I think I'll cope well enough on my own. Now, I'm sure there's at least one more question you'd like to ask.'

'When is this meeting?'

'In two days' time. You're leaving tonight.'

06 The Eagles Prophecy

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The bireme heaved to before the first hint of dawn. It wallowed in a heavy swell that rose under the stern, lifted it up and then let it fall back with a sickening swoop. Cato leaned on the stern rail, head pitched forward, and vomited into the dark oily abyss below. It had been bad enough while he had been able to see the horizon as a reference point to steady his sense of balance, but as darkness had closed round the small ship the chaotic and nauseous movement under his feet had increased his misery tenfold. All night he had been at the rail, head swimming, with regular bouts of retching that felt as if the pit of his stomach was being ripped up and wrenched out of his throat.

Cato was glad that Macro had been ordered to stay at Rave

When his friend had heard about the meeting Cato had been roundly accused of keeping secrets. At the time Cato had been secretly flattered to be chosen for this duty; now he would have paid any price to swap places with Macro.

'Any better?'

Cato turned from the rail and saw Decimus, the bireme's trierarch, emerge from the darkness. Cato shook his head.

'I thought you were one of the new centurions appointed to the marines?'

'That's me.'

'Well, I hate to be rude, or anything, but you're not exactly taking to the vocation.'

'I hate the sea.'

'I assume you're a landsman.'

'Yes…' A fresh wave of nausea gripped his body and Cato lurched back to the rail and retched until the attack passed, then wiped the stringy spittle from his lips before turning back to Decimus. 'I was transferred from the legions.'

'Transferred? I see…' Decimus nodded, tactfully avoiding asking the reason for what was in effect a demotion. 'Can't be doing with all that marching and civil engineering nonsense. Give me a simple life on the sea any day.'

Cato stared at him, thinking that he'd rather build an aqueduct all by himself than spend another moment on the ship.

Decimus leaned on the rail next to Cato, upwind, and sniffed the air. 'Fresh and salty. We're in for a good day. Bit choppy, but no chance of a storm.'

'Choppy…' Cato swallowed and tensed his jaw. 'Where are we?'

'Some miles from the Cape. I gave the order to heave to so that we don't get too close in the dark.'

'Why not?'

'Why not?' Decimus laughed. 'You've never seen the Cape before?'

'I've never seen many things before. Your bloody Cape Mortepontum amongst them.'

'How do you think it got the name? "The Bridge of Death" – bit of a giveaway, don't you think?'

Cato glanced round. 'Dangerous then?'

'More ships are wrecked on the Cape than anywhere else along this entire coastline.'

'How so?'

'When the sun rises and we get closer, then I think you'll understand why I give it a wide berth. Now, if you'll excuse me I'll see to my men. They need to be fed and at their stations before first light.'





'Expecting trouble?'

'Are you serious?' Decimus shook his head in wonder. 'You've not had dealings with pirates before?'

'No.'

'They're as trustworthy as a shark in a sausage factory. And twice as dangerous.'

Cato raised his eyebrows. 'Colourful. But not entirely coherent.'

'What?' Decimus frowned.

'The analogy doesn't work. The shark is not a land creature.'

Decimus shrugged. 'You obviously haven't met my banker.'

As the first hint of dawn spread along the eastern horizon Cato could just make out the pale shadow of the mountainous coastline.

Decimus pointed out a darker patch. 'That's the Cape. We'll move close in.'

He turned to face the bows and cupped his hands to his mouth. 'Raise the sail! Put a reef in her!'

Several sailors clambered up the rigging and swung out along the yardarm, bare feet pressing down on the toe-line as they shuffled along. When every man was in place the mate called out an order and the sailors undid the ties and began to unfurl the sail. Its billowing expanse slowly filled up and became taut as more sailors on deck hauled the mainsheets in and fastened them to the stout wooden cleats on the ship's side rails. When the rectangular sail had been let out as far as the first reefing lines, the sailors on the yard tied it down and returned to the deck. The motion of the bireme began to settle as it got under way and Cato could hear the rush and hiss of the sea sliding along the waterline.

'Steersman!' Decimus called out. 'Heading, three fingers off the port bow.'

'Three fingers off the port bow. Aye, sir.'

Just behind Cato the powerfully built sailor braced his legs on a foot rail and heaved at the great steering paddle that was suspended over the side of the bireme, a short distance from the stern. Slowly, the vessel began to respond, and the bows turned downwind, towards the distant shore. Then the bireme was ru

Decimus was clearly in his element and turned to Cato with a twinkle of delight in his eyes.

'Feeling better now?'

'Much.'

'We'll be at the meeting point soon with this following wind. Of course, it'll be difficult going if we have to beat back towards Rave

He nodded at the deck and Cato glanced towards the main grating. The dim forms of men sitting at their benches were just visible in the pale light.

'Will they be fast enough to get the ship out of danger if it's a trap?'

'They should be. This class of vessel is designed for speed. The real question is how long they can keep it up. I generally keep my men well fed and rested so we have that extra reserve of strength at the oars, should we need it. Let's just hope we don't need it, eh?'

'Sail! Away to port!' the lookout cried down from the masthead, and thrust his arm out, pointing a short distance off the coastline.

Cato automatically turned and squinted towards the horizon but saw nothing along the unbroken line.

Decimus called up to the lookout, 'Can you make anything out?'

There was a short delay before the report came back. 'Black sail. I can see the hull now. Big ship.'

'Is that him?' asked Cato.

'Most likely. There'll be few ships at sea in winter. Even fewer with pirates out on the prowl.'

'Deck there!'

Cato and Decimus tilted their heads up towards the masthead. The lookout was pointing to the south. 'Another sail.'

Cato felt an icy tingle at the back of his neck. 'It's a trap.'

'Calm yourself,' Decimus smiled. 'There's still plenty of time to head back out to sea.'

'Another sail! And another!' cried the lookout, pointing his arm out over the stern of the bireme.

Cato nodded in resignation and then forced a smile as he turned back to Decimus. 'You were saying?'