The Eagles Prophecy

'NOW!'

06 The Eagles Prophecy

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Before the sound of his voice even echoed off the face of the cliff, orders were being screamed out across the decks of all five ships. As the marines swarmed from the holds, the crew snatched up grappling hooks and the oarsmen steered towards their target ships. Macro indicated one of the triremes and Decimus nodded and passed on the order to the steersman. On each beam the long oars swept forwards, down, were hauled back and swept forward again as the galleys picked up speed over the rapidly narrowing stretch of water that separated them from the pirate ships. At first there was no immediate reaction from the other side as the pirates stared in uncomprehending surprise, then horror, at the ships heading straight for them. The marines had been ordered to keep silent as the ships closed in and an eerie quiet hung over the bay.

Then, after what seemed a long pause, the pirates began to respond to the attack. Their officers shouted out orders and men scrambled across the decks to find their weapons. Over on the beach, where the three vessels were still being caulked, the enemy were slower to react and watched in silence as the Roman vessels swept into the attack. Then from the citadel came the long flat blast of a horn, sounding the alarm, and only then did the pirates fully realise what was happening. But it was already far too late for those vessels closest to Macro's small squadron.

At the last moment the steersman thrust hard against his giant paddles and the port-side oars stopped dead in the water, causing the liburnian to swing round and fetch up against the side of the trireme with a jarring thud that trembled through every timber of the smaller ship.

'Grappling lines away!' Decimus yelled from aft, and the three pointed iron hooks sailed up and over on to the deck of the trireme. The seamen quickly pulled the lines tight and cleated them before snatching up their lighter weapons and swarming up the ropes on to the enemy vessel. The marines, more heavily armed, hurriedly raised boarding ladders and clambered up after their comrades. Macro pushed his way through the packed ranks to the nearest ladder and climbed up. He grasped the side rail of the trireme and swung himself on to its deck. He landed heavily, legs braced, and snatched out his sword from under his cloak.

The fight for the trireme was already decided. Only a skeleton crew was aboard, as Vespasian had foreseen. The rest must be ashore, billeted in the citadel or amongst the shelters stretching up the slope beyond the beach. Three bodies lay sprawled on the deck. A fourth man was slumped against the mast, coughing up jets of blood. Two men were trying to surrender just beyond the mast, but the marines cut them down without mercy and charged down the gangway leading below the deck. The orders had been made clear to every man of the assault party: no prisoners were to be taken. They could not afford to waste men to guard them, and any time taken to deal with prisoners would kill the impetus of the attack.

Some of the pirates who had managed to escape the first wave of Romans had run to the far side and were diving into the sea. They swam for the shore as fast as possible while Macro's men threw anything at them that came to hand: belaying pins, pots and jars and even the pirates' own weapons, abandoned in their terrified bid to escape their attackers.

Macro left his men to it and ran aft to the steering deck, taking the small staircase in a single bound. He ran to the rail and looked over the water to see how his small squadron was doing. The closest bireme had nearly seized its prey, and beyond, across the decks of the other ships, the fight was well underway. He thumped his fist down in satisfaction at the success of the start of the attack. But he must keep up the momentum. Leaning over the side he spotted Decimus and waved his sword to attract the trierarch's attention.

'Make ready to move! Get the crew back aboard. I'll deal with the marines!'

Decimus saluted and shouted orders to his men at once. Macro ran back on to the main deck.

'First two sections, with me! The rest of you, back to the ship.'

Due to the frantic excitement burning through their veins it took a moment before the first men responded to Macro's order and made their way back to the boarding ladders. As the first boarders returned on deck from the hold, Macro grabbed their optio by the arm.

'Take some men. Get back below and get some fires started. Make 'em good. Then get back to our ship.'

'Yes, sir.'

'We can't wait for you.' Macro nodded to a small boat tied on to the deck. 'You'll have to take that. Go!'

He turned away, clambered over the side and climbed down to the liburnian. The deck was filled with excited, gri

Decimus gri

'Piece of piss,' Macro laughed. He turned and pointed to a bireme, inshore of the vessel they had just taken. 'That one's next. Get us alongside as fast you can.'

The men at the oars pushed the liburnian away from the side of the trireme before they got the vessel under way again. As they left the large warship in their wake Macro saw a thin wisp of smoke drift up from the deck, before it thickened into a swirling cloak of smutty grey as the flames began to take hold. Ahead of them the crew of the bireme were making what preparations they could to repel boarders. While the brief assault on the trireme had been taking place these pirates had time to arm themselves and take up position along the side of their ship. Several were armed with bows, and javelins had been snatched up and hastily leaned against the side, ready for use. As before, only a fraction of the crew were aboard but Macro counted nearly twenty of them. Enough to put up a spirited defence.

Macro cleared his throat to address the marines. 'This one's going to be a proper fight, lads. But it's the same routine as before. Go in quick, go in hard, and take no prisoners.'

Most of the men raised a cheer, but the veterans amongst them were already appraising the challenge ahead and weighing up their chances of success as the liburnian surged towards the enemy ship. When they were within fifty paces, Macro heard an order shouted from the deck of the pirate ship and several javelins darted out across the sea.

Macro just had time to shout a warning. 'Shields up!'

Then the heavy iron tips of the weapons thudded down on to the deck or punched through shields with a loud crack. There was a cry of pain as one man went down, the shaft of a javelin having passed through his stomach, pi

'Get that out of him and get him below! The rest of you, keep your bloody shields up! Decimus! Get some of your men to start hitting 'em back!'

As the distance between the two ships closed, there was just enough time to exchange a few more volleys, and then Decimus gave the order to back-water and as the men at the oars killed the forward speed of the liburnian, the ships met bow to bow with a jarring blow that knocked most men off their feet in a tangle of limbs and equipment, as curses and cries of pain and anger cut through the air.

Macro scrambled up, shouting, 'Get those grappling lines up! Go! Go!'

Once again the iron hooks thudded down on the enemy ship and were pulled taut. The first marine began to scramble up the side of the bireme. But before he reached the deck a pirate rose up behind the rail wielding a large axe in both hands. The heavy blade swept through the air and split the marine's helmet and skull right down to his shoulders. The body spasmed, and dropped into the narrow slit of water between the two vessels. As the other marines hesitated beside him, Macro snatched up a javelin, sighted it and threw it across at the axeman. The heavy tip struck him squarely in the breast and he staggered back out of sight.