The Eagles Prophecy

'Isn't this a bit risky?'

Albinus patted the side rail. 'She can take it. Unless the wind gets any stronger. Then we'll have to take those reefs back in, if we don't want to lose the mast.'

'Oh.' Cato looked forward and saw that every rope was taut and vibrating under the strain of the mainsail, every scrap of it exposed to the northerly wind. Then he glanced back at the pirate ships and slapped a hand down on the side rail with a cry of triumph.

'We're drawing ahead of them!'

Albinus nodded. 'Yes. But two can play at that game. Look!'

He pointed towards the pirate ships and Cato could see tiny figures swarming aloft to take the reefs out of their sails. Shortly afterwards the enemy was slowly gaining ground on them once again.

Cato turned to Albinus. 'What now?'

'We'll have to make a run for it. Head down wind and hope that we've got the more weatherly ship.'

He turned to the steersman. 'Take her before the wind.'

'Aye, sir.'

As the trireme's bow started to swing away from the pirates Albinus shouted orders to his crew and the mainsail sheets were cast off until the wind came from directly behind the ship. Then they strained to haul the sheets in tight and cleat them home. Sailing downwind, the wind passing over the decks moderated and Cato felt a wash of pure exhilaration as the trireme coursed down one wave and climbed the next. For the first time he could sense something of the attraction that the sea held for men like Albinus and his crew. Then he glanced aft and saw that the pirate ships had changed course and were now directly behind the Spartan, barely a mile off. Cato's hand unconsciously went for the pommel of his sword.

'How much longer before they catch us up?'

Albinus squinted at their pursuers for a moment. 'Four hours, if we're lucky. Before nightfall, at any rate.'

As the chase continued across the white-capped expanse of grey sea the wind steadily increased in strength and the rigging of the trireme fairly hummed under the strain. Albinus went forward and rested his hand on the mainsheets, and anxiously stared up at the taut seams of the sail. Yet when he returned to the aft deck and glanced at the pirates it was clear that they were steadily closing, and that there was no chance of taking in a reef. Behind the pirates a grey film had closed in over the horizon and the sky above it was a filthy dark grey.

'What's that?' Cato pointed. 'A storm?'

'Squall, more likely. Rain and wind, that's all. Still…' The trierarch's expression suddenly tightened in firm concentration. He gauged the distance between the Spartan and the pirates before fixing his eyes beyond the three vessels, staring into the fast-approaching gloom. Then he turned and gri

The veil of rain swept across the sea towards the pirates, suddenly swallowing them up and hiding them from the sight of those aboard the trireme. The crew stood to the mainsheets and braces, ready to move swiftly as soon as the trierarch gave the command. Just before the grey haze was upon them Cato sensed a freshening of the wind and it veered wildly, causing the mainsail to flap and boom for a moment before the wind direction steadied with a low keening moan through the rigging. The rain struck with almost no warning, and glinting shafts thundered down on the deck and exploded in a shimmering carpet of spray about the crew's feet. Cato hunched down inside his cape, holding the hood over his head with his spare hand as he clutched the side rail.

'Loose sheets!' Albinus roared out close by, his voice straining to be heard above the sudden din of the squall. 'Steersman! Bring her about!'

The trireme lurched round, heading for the Italian coast once more. The mainsail flapped and thundered like some vast bird.

'Hands aloft! Take in a reef!'

Cato watched anxiously as the sailors climbed the rigging, and inched their way along the yardarm. Below them the deck rolled from side to side, threatening to pitch the sailors into the raging sea. When all the men were in position along the yard the trierarch shouted an order and they began to draw the sail in, until the first reefing tie was within reach. They hauled the ties in and hurriedly fastened them around the yard before making their way back to the mast and clambering down the rigging, chests heaving with the exertion and excitement of the moment.

'Well done, lads! Now sheet her home and let's get as far from those bastards as we can!'

With the wind across her aft quarter the trireme pitched and rolled at a sickening angle as she clawed her way through the squall. Cato's stomach began to churn. He lurched towards the side rail.

'Not that side!' Albinus yelled, thrusting an arm out towards the far side of the ship. 'Downwind!'

Cato pivoted round, clamped a hand over his mouth and half ran, half slid, down to the left-hand side of the ship and vomited over the rail. There seemed to be no end of it, and for an age he stood, hunched over the side rail, gripping the rough wooden surface as tightly as he could, racked by bouts of sickness that wrenched his body right down to the very pit of his stomach. All the time the rain lashed down, drenching his cloak and the tunic beneath, finally fetching up cold and clammy against his shivering skin.

After a while, he noticed that the air about him seemed brighter, and the torrential pounding of the rain on his shoulders began to subside. Cato raised his head and glanced round, just as the grey shroud of the squall began to pass, and then it was gone, just as suddenly as it had fallen upon them. The hiss of the rain subsided and then it was beyond earshot as the squall raced away to the south. After the savage intensity of the howling wind and rain, it seemed u

'Did we do it? Did we lose them?'

Albinus shrugged.'Can't say just yet. Wait a moment.'

Both men went over to the sternpost and stared intently as the squall receded. There was no sign of the pirate ships, and after a moment the trierarch breathed a deep sigh of relief and nodded his satisfaction. He glanced at Cato with a nervous smile. 'Looks like we-'

'Deck there. Enemy sail in sight!'

The trierarch and the centurion stared aft, just as three glistening sails emerged from the grey haze at the rear of the squall, less than a mile off. Cato's sickness subsided as a current of despair welled up inside him.

'Shit!' Albinus pounded the sternpost with a clenched fist. 'The bastards second-guessed us. Whoever's in command of that lot is a clever little sod and no mistake.'

'We'd better get ready for them,' Cato suggested, still feeling too sick to assume direct command of the ship. 'You'd better give the necessary orders. I'll be better in a moment.'

Albinus nodded, and turned back to his crew, bellowing out orders for the men to arm themselves and prepare to repel boarders. Cato continued to watch the enemy as they closed on the Spartan, sails close-hauled and straining at every seam. The pirate ships seemed to be closing faster than ever, and Cato realised that they had not taken in any reefs. For an instant he cursed Albinus' timidity, and wondered why the trierarch had not immediately ordered his men to get aloft again to shake out the reef in the Spartan's broad mainsail.

Albinus rejoined him, staring anxiously as the enemy clawed ever closer to their prey. Already the foredecks of the smaller ships were packed with men, their armour and weapons glinting in the sunlight that spread across the sea as the clouds dispersed. The pirates sailed in close formation, and only when they were within extreme catapult range did their plan of attack become apparent. Two of the ships began to ease upwind, to close in on the trireme's right side, while the third dropped a little to windward, to take her from the left. The defenders would have to split their strength to face both attacks.