The Eagles Prophecy

Felix was already on his feet and he shoved a shield towards Cato. 'Here, sir. On your feet now.'

While Cato shook his head to try to clear it of the blurring pain the optio was thrusting men towards the crow. The trireme had struck the pirate ship at an angle, and aft of the mast Minucius already had his men hurling grappling hooks across the gap to try to draw the ships closer together. Cato stood erect and, raising his shield, he approached the prow cautiously and looked down. The ram had crushed the enemy's timber hull and penetrated six or seven feet inside. Water gurgled and bubbled as it poured in through the breach. He sensed a blur from his left and ducked down just as a light javelin glanced off the angle of his shield with a sharp crack. The men on the foredeck of the pirate ship had also recovered from the impact and now a handful turned to face their attacker as the rest hurried aboard the Trident. The pirates' trierarch must be fairly cool-headed, Cato realised. He saw that the first fight had to be won before he could afford to take on the crew of the trireme. As Cato glanced at the men dropping down on to the deck of the Trident he saw Macro and a score of his men fighting for their lives in a tight circle about the mast.

'Get that boarding ramp moving!' Cato shouted over his shoulder.

As Minucius' men hauled on the grappling lines the trireme gradually swung in towards the pirate ship. The marines on the crow's tackle heaved and the pivot groaned and squeaked as the ramp swung out over the side of the Spartan, across the surface of the water and then its shadow fell across the deck of the pirate ship.

'Let go!' Felix yelled.

As soon as the men released their grip on the tackle the heavy iron spike under the ramp swung down and pierced the planking with a splintering crash. Cheering, the marines swarmed on to the ramp and ran across to meet the enemy. A few javelins and arrows flitted towards them, but hammered into the protective wooden hoardings on either side and injured no one. Felix was standing by the near end of the ramp, thrusting men along it.

'Go! Go! You lazy bastards! Or there'll be none left for you! Go!'

Cato drew his sword and pressed himself in amongst the stream of men crossing to the enemy ship. At the far end of the ramp there was a short jump down on to the deck, then he raised his shield and held his sword ready as he looked around. Several of his men had rushed towards the bows, hacking and thrusting at any pirate that stood in their way. Cato turned towards the stern. A small party of men stood there, heavily built and well armed.

'You there!' Cato called out to the marines who had been immediately behind him on the boarding ramp.'Follow me!'

They trotted steadily towards the stern, slowing to pick their way over the tangle of fallen rigging. The gratings had been thrown open and as Cato glanced down he could see that the oars had been abandoned as the crew had armed and thrown themselves at the Romans aboard the Trident. Now there was the glint and glimmer of water sloshing through the bilges as the sea poured through the breached hull. Ahead of them the group of men closed ranks and hefted their round shields towards the Romans. There was no time for formations and tactics, and Cato filled his lungs and roared, 'Get them!' before lowering his head, leaning into his shield and throwing himself at the pirates.

On either side his men charged home and the air was filled with grunts and shouting and the scrape and clatter of sword blades. Cato's shield slammed back towards him as one of the pirates charged with a savage cry of rage. Light glittered off the side of a blade rising above Cato and he saw the man draw back a heavy falcata to slash it down and through Cato's helmet. He threw his sword up and parried the blow with a jarring clang and, before the man could recover, Cato slammed the pommel of his sword into the snarling features of the pirate's face. The man's head jerked back with a grunt and flecks of blood flickered into the air from a deep gash across his forehead. At once Cato snatched back his arm and slashed his sword into his enemy's face, the edge cutting through the bridge of the nose and into his eyes. With a scream the pirate stumbled back against the side rail. Raising his shield, Cato shoved him over the side and turned on the next pirate.

A short, stocky man with blond hair spiking out under a leather skullcap stood in a crouch, weighing the Roman centurion up with narrowed eyes. Then he raised the point of his sword and crept a step closer. Cato tensed up, ready for the man to explode into an attack. Instead, the pirate suddenly stopped, frowned and glanced down at his chest where the bloodied point of a sword tip had pierced his leather jerkin. His legs folded under him and he pitched forward. Behind him stood a marine, gri

Cato threw up the edge of his shield and the blade slammed into the metal trim, sending sparks flying, and throwing Cato back against the sternpost. As the man recovered his sword and stepped back a pace, Cato's eyes swept round and to his horror he discovered that he was the last Roman standing at this end of the pirate ship. All the men who had followed him were sprawled in bloody heaps on the deck, amongst the bodies of their enemies. The two pirates had the centurion to themselves.

The man with the long sword whirling overhead was dark-ski

Cato knew he was in a desperate situation, and the thought that his only line of escape lay in jumping over the side flashed through his mind. But armoured as he was, he realised he would sink straight to the bottom of the sea. So, he clenched his sword tightly, eased his shield forward and waited for the next attack.

'Sir!' Felix's voice carried across the background din of fighting from the other ships. 'Sir, get down!'

Cato and the two men facing him heard the whirring sound at the same instant, but only the Roman realised the danger in time to act, and threw himself down on the deck and covered his body with his shield. Slingshot whipped overhead, cracked into timber and several thudded into the bodies of the two pirates. Both men crumpled to the deck and lay groaning.

'Hold fast!' Felix shouted to his men.

Cato waited a moment to make sure that no more shots were coming his way, then he rose up. He glanced at the last two pirates. The big man was already dead, his skull crushed by a direct hit. His young companion had been struck in the back, smashing his shoulder blade and some ribs, and as he gasped for breath, blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. He glared up at Cato, as his hands groped across the deck towards the handle of a sword. Cato kicked the weapon away and leaned over him.