The Eagles Prophecy

'Sir?' Minucius laughed. 'I'll do no such thing!'

'Then you leave me no choice. I'll have you charged with insubordination. Unless you'd prefer that to be mutiny?'

'You wouldn't dare…'

Cato drew a breath and called out over his shoulder. 'Optio Felix!'

Cato's subordinate hurriedly rose from the deck and marched towards the two centurions. A look of uncertainty flashed across Minucius' face and he poked a finger at Cato.

'All right. You win, sir.'

The optio stood to attention beside Cato, waiting for orders. Cato said nothing for a while, to make Minucius sweat it out. Then he turned to the optio.

'Tell the men not to move about. The centurion here tells me that we're overloaded. No sense in making the ship any more unstable than she already is. See to it.'

'Yes, sir.' Optio Felix saluted and made his way forward. Cato fixed his eyes on those of Minucius.

'I know you have far more experience than me. I'll look to you for any advice that I need. But while I'm on this ship, I'm the senior officer. Understand?'

'Yes… sir.'

'Good.'

'May I go now, sir?'

'Yes.'

Minucius saluted and turned away, marching stiffly towards some of his men who were leaning on the side rail. 'What's the matter? Never seen the bloody sea before? Get inboard, you dozy bastards!'

Cato watched him for a moment, awash with relief. He had been afraid that the veteran would see through him and call his bluff; dare him to exert his authority. In the end, despite his outrage, Minucius had known that Cato was right. Legionary rank took precedence over auxiliary rank and there was nothing Minucius could do about it. Now, thanks to Cato's assertion of his seniority, there would be a gulf between them. That suited Cato perfectly. He would sooner have the man's resentment focus on the difference in authority, rather than any simple personal animosity due to Cato's friendship with Macro. Of course, it was likely that Minucius would be hostile to him on both counts. Cato could live with that. Just as long as their relationship maintained a thoroughly professional edge. He nodded his satisfaction with the situation, turned and made his way forward to join his men.

The prefect was the last man to join the fleet, striding up the gilded ramp that led up to the wide deck of his flagship, the quinquireme Horus. Vitellius climbed the narrow gangway to the aft deck and acknowledged the salute of the trierarch of the flagship.

'Signal the fleet to leave the harbour.'

'Yes, sir.'

'They're to form up on the flagship as soon as we make open sea.'

'Yes, sir.'

'I'm going below. Make sure I'm not disturbed. Carry on.'

Without waiting for the man to reply Vitellius ducked through the low hatch into the cabin that ran the width of the quinquireme's stern. He ignored the boxes of scrolls awaiting his attention at the desk built round the sternpost, and flopped down on the narrow cot at the side of the cabin. Like most of his men he had not slept much the night before, but unlike them, he had the luxury of command and could permit himself this indulgence. Feet pattered across the deck as the crew of the flagship eased the vessel away from the quay, ran the oars out and began to get the quinquireme under way.

Sporting a long purple pe

06 The Eagles Prophecy

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

For a few hours it seemed as if the storm was merely drawing its breath before sweeping back across the sea. There was an u

Cato tried to ease his growing sense of dread by walking slowly around the deck, his hands clasped behind his back. He tried to divert his mind but each time he paced by the mast and headed aft, the presence of Minucius loomed at the periphery of his vision, and in the end Cato gave up and joined the trierarch on the aft deck.

'How long do you think the crossing will take?'

Titus Albinus pursed his lips for a moment before replying, 'That depends, sir. With no wind, we have to rely on the oars. We can keep the men shift on shift for a while yet. If we can keep this pace up then we should make the coast of Illyricum by late afternoon tomorrow. Assuming that the weather doesn't break.'

As he glanced round at the other warships, a sudden thought struck Cato.'What happens when it gets dark? Isn't there a risk of the ships colliding or getting lost?'

Albinus smiled and nodded towards the stern of the trireme. 'Soon as it's dusk, each ship hoists a lantern. It'll keep us in formation until dawn. At least, that's the theory.'

'Theory?' Cato turned towards him sharply. 'What do you mean? This can't be the first time you've sailed at night?'

'Of course not, sir.' Albinus sounded aggrieved. 'It's part of the basic drill. It's just that most ships tend to hug the shore as much as possible and find a safe anchorage at the end of each day. I've had the Spartan out overnight, but never as part of a fleet.'

'Never?' Cato was incredulous.

'Never.' Albinus smiled. 'Should be an interesting experience.'

Cato looked at the trierarch as if he were quite mad. As the day wore on a light northerly breeze stirred the surface of the sea and the flagship signalled the rest of the warships to ship oars and make sail. The soft rush and hiss of the sea passing alongside seemed hushed and soothing after the monotonous creak and splash of the oars, and Cato stood to one side as Albinus ordered his crew to trim the sail to his satisfaction. Then he glanced at the flagship, a few hundred feet ahead.

'First mate!'

'Sir?'

'Make sure you maintain our station.'

The Spartan, being a lighter vessel, was inclined to sail faster than the lumbering quinquireme and the mate had to frequently order the men at the sheets to spill the wind from the rectangular sail to prevent the ship closing on the Horus and the other ships ahead.

As dusk gathered around the fleet, and sky and sea merged into one gloomy mass, one of the crewmen brought a lantern up from below deck, a heavy bronze affair with a glass pane. The oil lamp inside had already been lit and the dull flame reflected brightly off the highly polished tin mirror at the back of the lantern. An iron hook protruded from the sternpost and the crewman offered the lamp up and slipped the handle over the hook. The lantern swayed gently with the easy motion of the vessel, and as Cato watched, more lights winked into being in the ships ahead of the Spartan. It reminded him of the torchlight processions held by the followers of Mithras he had seen occasionally in the camp of the Second Legion.