The Eagles Prophecy

Macro turned to the two marines. 'Take the prisoner below. Try not to damage him on the way down, eh?'

'Sorry, sir. Couldn't help it. He's a bit frisky, like, sir.'

Macro made an exaggerated show of looking the prisoner over. 'Well, he's tied up and a little the worse for wear. I should think he wouldn't present too much of a challenge, even to a couple of marines.'

The two marines coloured, and then quickly, but carefully, marched their charge away.

Decimus nodded towards the signal station. 'Does that mean it's not Cato up there?'

Macro shrugged. 'I don't think it can be, unless he's managed to capture one of the pirates and forced them to reveal the signals system. I think that's expecting a bit much of him.' Macro smiled grimly.'Even Cato has to duck a fight once in a while. I just hope he got away safely.'

'He seemed a resourceful enough lad,' Decimus agreed.

'Sometimes that's not enough. Sometimes you need a generous helping of luck and Cato's used up more luck than any man has a right to expect… We'll know, soon.'

Macro shifted his attention to the mountain on the other side of the inlet, no more than six or seven miles away. The five ships under his command would reach the bay well before noon. Shortly afterwards the Rave

The sun climbed into a clear morning sky, the breeze strengthened and Decimus asked for permission to raise the sails.

'The wind's favourable. We can make the bay on this course without having to put a tack in.'

Macro glanced down at the oarsmen straining at their benches. 'If we keep the men at the oars and raise the sails we should get there a lot more quickly.'

'Too quickly,' Decimus cautioned him. 'We can't risk pulling too far ahead of the fleet, sir.'

'The sooner we reach the bay, the greater the chance we have of taking them by surprise. You know that as well as I do, Decimus.'

'That's true, sir. But if we exhaust the men at the oars they'll not fight so well. We'll have a hard enough job as it is, without tiring the men beforehand. I'm sorry, I know how keen you are to get stuck into them, but that's how it is.'

Macro nodded reluctantly.'All right then. Signal the ships to set sail and ship oars. Just pray that they don't see us coming in time to take any precautions against our little ruse. If they do, then we're as good as dead.'

As Macro stood at the prow of the liburnian he stared at the slowly approaching headland and willed his vessel over the intervening waves. Even with his limited imagination Macro could readily visualise some pirate fishing or swimming off the point, away from the fouled waters of the anchorage. Glancing up the pirate would see the five sails making for the inlet and immediately pass word of his sighting on to Telemachus. The pirates would be cautious with a Roman fleet looking out for them. They'd be formed up and armed and the crews on their ships would have the vessels prepared for action. As soon as they saw through the ruse the Romans would be massacred and the waters of the bay would be stained red with their blood.

Macro tried to dispel the horrific images playing out in his mind. Vespasian's gambit stood every chance of succeeding. The pirates had sent the very same liburnians out to seize shipping several days earlier. They would be expecting them to return, and would be overjoyed by the apparent evidence of their success. Better still, if Macro had been correct in his judgement about the black pe

They were no more than a mile from the headland when he saw two figures watching the approaching vessels from the cliff top above the headland. As the ships approached Macro waited for them to turn and run, but they remained standing, gazing at the five ships. As the vessels closed to within half a mile one of the watchers raised an arm and waved a greeting. Macro swallowed nervously and waved back, suspecting some kind of test. But still there was no sign of alarm, and the ships began to pass round the headland. Far behind them, Macro knew, the signal was being given for the rest of the fleet to get under way and race towards the bay as fast as wind and oar could carry Vespasian's warships.

A thin haze of smoke hung in the air beyond the end of the cliff and then the rocky promontory, on which the pirates' citadel sat, began to ease into view around the cliff face. On the deck around him, Macro sensed the tension run through the crew like a skewer and he turned to them with an angry growl.

'Take it easy, blast you. As far as they know, we're all good friends. So smile and wave at them for all you're worth. Understand?'

The disguised sailors and marines on deck nodded at him uneasily and continued about their duties, or lined the side and stared as the bay opened up before them. At first sight the expanse of water seemed filled with enemy ships. Then Macro counted them, and saw that there were only the same number as he and Cato had marked on the map two days ago. There was barely any swell on the surface of the sea and the reflections of the pirate galleys glimmered unevenly under the dark hulls, only a few hundred feet away now. Curious faces appeared along the sides of the nearest vessels and most waved in celebration at the sight of the captured biremes sailing between the two liburnians. Beyond the enemy vessels the citadel loomed above the bay and Macro could make out the frames of several catapults mounted along the wall, and on a handful of platforms overlooking the anchorage. But there was no tell-tale trickle of oily smoke that indicated incendiary missiles being prepared. So far, so good, Macro comforted himself. He turned aft, caught Decimus' eyes and nodded.

'Lower sails!' Decimus called out in Greek.'Unship oars!'

One by one the other four vessels followed suit and turned slowly in towards the anchorage pirate ships. While the sailors unhurriedly furled the sail and attached the ties, the stroke was kept nice and slow to allay the pirates' suspicions, and make it seem that the new arrivals were simply making their final approach. To encourage the deceit, Decimus gave the order for the deck crew to prepare the anchor cable as the liburnian glided into the bay. In the gloom below the open deck hatch Macro saw anxious faces peering up into the sunlight, ready to surge up and into battle. Not just yet, Macro cautioned himself. He must give the order at the very last possible moment and get as close to the enemy ships as he could before they dropped the disguise.

Decimus had orders to make for a trireme first, and whispered softly to the steersman to steer close to, but not at, the pirate flagship. Over the side, the regular movement of the oar blades swept up, forward and down into the calm waters of the bay, churning up the refuse and sewage that floated on the surface.

'Ajax!'

The shout made Macro jump and he looked up to see a smiling face on the aft deck of the trireme. The man called out again, in some unintelligible tongue that might have been Greek as far as Macro could tell. He made himself smile and open his arms in an expansive gesture of friendly greeting, even as his heart pounded against his chest. The man repeated what he said just a moment before and Macro laughed heartily, causing the pirate to frown in confusion. He looked from Macro to the other men on the deck, who avoided his eye, and then he straightened up, staring intently at the deck of the liburnian – at the hatch leading into the hold. Macro turned away from the trireme, cupped his hands and drew a deep breath.