Emperor: The Death of Kings E#2 (20 page)

“License to recruit, train, take oaths, and appoint officers under Senate authority to be given to Marcus Brutus of Rome,” the speaker continued in a drone that didn’t match the murmur of excitement that swept through the remaining hundred senators in their seats. One of the Sullans left quickly, no doubt to bring his friends back for the vote. Pompey frowned as he saw Calpurnius Bibilus and two others stand to speak on the matter. The man had been a staunch supporter of Sulla’s, and still swore his killers would be rooted out whenever he had the opportunity to do so.

It looked as if they had an old trick in mind. One after the other, they would speak to the Senate at great length until the session finished, or at the least until enough of their followers could be summoned to vote it down. If the proposal was pushed to the following session, it might not pass at all.

Crassus looked over to Cinna and caught his eye in commiseration. To his surprise, the older man flickered a wink in his direction. Crassus relaxed and settled back in his seat. Money was a powerful lever; he knew that as well as anyone. To hold up the vote, the Sullans had to be allowed to begin, and the Master of Debate recited the details of the proposal without once looking up at the benches where they stood, clearing throats noisily for his attention.

When the details had all been described, the Master of Debate called immediately for a vote. One of the Sullans swore loudly and walked out of the Senate hall, a gross breach of etiquette. The appointment passed easily and the session was declared closed. During the final prayer, Crassus sneaked a glance at Pompey and Cinna. He would have to choose his gift to Servilia with care. No doubt those two had similar ideas.

  CHAPTER
17
  

J
ulius waited in the black hold, his sword drawn with the others around him. They were silent, waiting for the signal, and in that unnatural quiet, the creaking timbers of
Ventulus
seemed almost like muttered voices over the slap of waves against the hull.

Above them, the soldiers could hear the pirates laugh and swear as they tied their fast trireme to
Ventulus
and gathered on her decks without resistance. Julius strained to hear every sound. It was a tense time for them all, but most dangerous for those who remained above, where they could be cut down as an example or in simple cruelty. Julius had been surprised at first that any of the crew of
Ventulus
were willing to be on deck when the pirates boarded them. Their initial suspicion and anger at his men had vanished when he told them of the plan to attack pirates, and he believed in their enthusiasm. They had taken great pleasure in choosing those who would surrender on the decks, and Julius had realized that to these men a chance to strike back at the pirates they feared and hated would be the opportunity of a lifetime. Not for them the might of a legion galley. A merchant ship like the
Ventulus
always had to run for protection, and many of the crew had lost friends over the years to Celsus and his brother raiders.

Despite this, he had left Pelitas and Prax with them, dressed in rough clothes. It did not pay to trust strangers with their lives, and one of his officers would be able to shout the signal even if the crewmen betrayed them. He preferred not to leave anything to luck.

Voices sounded faintly through the hatches above their heads. His men shuffled, packed tightly, but not daring even to whisper. There was no way to be sure how many of the enemy stood on the deck. A pirate crew was usually smaller than the forces of a Roman galley and rarely more than thirty swords, but after witnessing the packed decks of the two ships that sank
Accipiter,
Julius knew he could not depend on superior numbers. He had to have surprise to be certain. With the remaining crew, a full fifty men waited with him. Julius had decided to allow the sailors their choice of weapons, reasoning that he could not spare men to guard them. The best he could manage was to have them mingle with his own soldiers, preventing a sudden attack on their rear as they rushed the deck.

One such stood close to him, carrying a rusting iron bar as a weapon. There was no hint of deception in the man, as far as Julius could see. Like the others, his gaze was fixed on the dark hatches, outlined with sunlight shining through the cracks in wide golden beams that swirled and glittered with dust. The beams moved almost hypnotically as
Ventulus
pitched and rolled in the swell. More voices spoke above and Julius tensed as he saw the light blocked by moving shadows, with the boards creaking under the weight. His own men would not stand on the hatches. It had to be the pirates, moving about their prize.

Julius had waited as long as he could before going below with the others, wanting to see how the pirates operated with his own eyes for the next time. To make it look real, he had to order the
Ventulus
rowers to a good stroke speed, but was ready to have some of the oars foul each other if the pirates couldn’t close the gap. It hadn’t been necessary. The enemy ship must have been stripped right down and drew steadily closer as the day wore on.

When they were close enough to count the oars, Julius had gone below to join his men. His greatest worry was that the enemy would employ a trained crew, as Celsus did. If they were wage-men, they might not be chained to the benches, and the thought of a hundred muscular rowers storming up to take on his men would mean disaster, armed or not. He’d seen the enemy ship carried a spiked ram that could anchor them if they smashed head-on into their prey, but guessed they wouldn’t use it, preferring to come alongside and board. No doubt they felt secure so far from the coast and patrolling galleys, able to take their time off-loading cargo and possibly claiming
Ventulus
for their own rather than sinking her. Raiders didn’t have shipyards, after all. He hoped they would have brought only a token force onto the decks of
Ventulus
. With the enemy tied securely, neither ship could escape, which was just as Julius wanted it. He sweated with anxiety as he waited for the signal. There were so many things that could go wrong.

Above, a strong wind was blowing, scattering tiny droplets of salt spray into the faces of the crew of
Ventulus
and their captors. Knowing the plan, they had surrendered without complaint, calling for the oars to be brought in and the sail dropped.
Ventulus
bobbed and rocked in the waves without wind and oars to make her move. A flight of arrows arced over as the pirates tied up, and Pelitas had to step aside not to be hit. He saw some of the crew sitting down on the deck, their hands in the air. No arrows were landing near them, so he copied the action, pulling Prax down with him. The shafts stopped flying as soon as they were all sitting. Pelitas heard laughter from the men waiting to board them, and he smiled grimly, waiting for the right moment. Julius had said to hold until the enemy had split their force between the two ships, but it was impossible to judge how many they had in reserve. Pelitas decided he would shout when twenty men had crossed over their rail. More than that might not break in the first charge, and the last thing they wanted was a pitched battle on the decks. Too many of Julius’s men were novices, and if the pirates didn’t surrender quickly, the fight could turn and they would lose everything.

The first ten of the enemy reached the main deck of
Ventulus.
Though they were confident, Pelitas noted how they moved as a unit, protecting each other from a sudden lunge. They spread out slightly to the sitting crew, and he saw long leather cords hanging from their belts, ready for tying the prisoners. No doubt these ten were the best fighters, veterans who knew their business and could cut their way out of trouble. Pelitas wished Julius had let him bring a sword on deck. He felt naked without one.

The crew allowed themselves to be tied without a struggle, and Pelitas hesitated. With only ten on deck, it was too early to call, but they were working with efficiency, and if they trussed the rest as quickly, they could be no help at all when the fight started. He saw four more clamber over the rail to
Ventulus
and then looked into the serious face of the man who approached him, thongs ready in his hands. Fourteen would have to do.

As the man met Pelitas’s eye, the Roman shouted loudly, making him jump and raise his sword.

“
Accipiter!
” Pelitas yelled, scrambling up. The pirate looked confused and snapped a response, but then the hatches banged open and Roman legionaries swarmed out amongst them, their armor gleaming in the sun.

The man by Pelitas swung to see them, his jaw dropping. Without hesitating, Pelitas leapt onto his back, pulling his forearm across the man’s throat with all his strength. The man staggered forward a couple of steps, then reversed the sword in his hand and rammed it back into Pelitas’s chest. He fell away in agony.

Julius led the charge. He killed the first man in front of him, swearing as he saw Pelitas had called it too soon. The archers were still on the other ship, and dark shafts struck the deck, killing one of the bound crew. There was no way to avoid them without shields, and Julius could only hope the charge wouldn’t falter. His men had never been under fire and it was hard even for experienced soldiers, when every instinct said to dive and hide. His blade clanged against another and he punched around it, knocking his opponent flat. One quick shove into the exposed throat and he was over him.

In the space, Julius glanced left and right, taking in the scene. Most of the pirates on
Ventulus
were down. His men were fighting well, though one or two were struggling to pull arrows from their limbs, howling in pain.

A buzzing shaft struck Julius in the chest, knocking him back a step. He felt winded, but the vicious thing fell to the wooden deck with a clatter and he realized his armor had saved him.

“Board them!” he bellowed, and his men surged with him toward the pirate ship. More arrows cut through them with little damage, and Julius thanked the gods for the tough Roman plate. He jumped onto the rail of
Ventulus
and skidded, his iron-shod sandals slipping on the wood.

He landed at the feet of the enemy with a crash of metal and swearing. He batted away a jabbing sword with his forearm, taking a cut from the edge. His gladius was under him and he had to roll to free it. Another blade clanged against his shoulder, snapping off the plate.

The other Romans roared as they saw him fall, cutting wildly through the pirates who faced them. They threw themselves into the enemy ship without caution, pushing the line past Julius. Gaditicus grabbed his arm and heaved Julius to his feet.

“One more you owe me,” Gaditicus growled as they rushed over the enemy deck together. Julius ran up to a pirate and lunged forward with his gladius, holding himself ready to avoid a counterthrust. Instead, the man lost his footing as he skipped back out of range and threw his sword out of his hand, sending it spinning over the planking. He looked terrified as Julius slowly lowered a heavy gladius to his throat.

“Please! Enough!” he shouted in terror. Julius paused, risking another flashing glance around him. The pirates were faltering. Many were dead and those remaining had their arms in the air, calling for peace. Swords clattered to the deck. The archers that still lived put their bows down, careful with them even as they surrendered.

Taking a step back, Julius looked behind him and his heart lifted in pride.

His recruits stood there in shining uniforms, swords drawn and held in first position. They looked every inch a legion fifty, fresh and disciplined.

“Get up,” he said to the fallen man. “I claim this ship for Rome.”

The survivors were tied using the same cords brought for the crew of
Ventulus
. It was quickly done, though Julius had to order one of the crew restrained after he kicked his erstwhile captor in the head when the man had been bound.

“Ten lashes for that man,” Julius said, his voice firm and strong. His men gripped the sailor firmly, while the rest of the crew of
Ventulus
exchanged glances. Julius stared them down, knowing it was important that they accept his orders. Left alone, they would probably have cut the prisoners to pieces, taking out years of hatred in an orgy of torture and violence. None of them met his eyes and instead they drifted apart from the congratulatory groups that had formed. Finally, Julius turned away to supervise the rest of the capture. The rowers he had feared could be heard belowdecks, yelling in terror at the sounds of the battle above. He would send men to quiet them.

“Sir, over here!” a voice called.

Prax held the body of Pelitas, his hand pressing against an open wound high in the chest. There was blood around his friend’s mouth and Julius knew as he saw him that there was no hope. Cabera might have saved him, but nothing else could.

Pelitas was choking, his eyes open without focus. Each tearing breath brought more blood dribbling from his lips. Julius crouched by the pair and many of the others gathered around them, blocking the sun. In the silence as they watched, the passing seconds seemed to last a long time, but finally the labored breathing ceased and the bright gaze faded into glassy stillness.

Julius stood, looking down at the body of his friend. He signaled to two of the others.

“Help Prax take him below. I’m not putting one of ours into the sea with them.” He walked away without another word and, of them all, only the officers from
Accipiter
understood why he had to show such a stern front. The commander would not reveal weakness in front of the men, and not a one of them doubted who led them anymore. Even Gaditicus kept his head bowed as Julius strode past him, walking alone.

When both of the ships were secure that night, Julius met with the other officers of
Accipiter
and they drank a toast to Pelitas, who had not made it to the end of his path.

Before sleep, Gaditicus walked on the moonlit deck of
Ventulus
with Julius. They were silent for a long time, lost in memories, but as they reached the head of the steps leading below, Gaditicus took his arm.

“You are in command here.”

Julius turned to him and the older man could feel the force of his personality. “I know,” he said simply.

Gaditicus formed a wry smile. “It was when you fell that I realized. All the men went after you without waiting for orders. I think they will follow you anywhere.”

“I wish I knew where I was leading them,” Julius said quietly. “Perhaps one of the men we captured will know where Celsus is. We’ll see in the morning.” He looked away to the place on the deck where Pelitas had fallen. “Peli would have had a grand laugh about me slipping like that. It would have been a ridiculous way to die.”

As he spoke, he chuckled without humor. The brave charge straight at the feet of the enemy. Gaditicus didn’t laugh. He clapped his hand on Julius’s shoulder, but the young man didn’t seem to feel it.

“He wouldn’t have died if I hadn’t wanted to find Celsus. You all would be back in Rome by now, with your names clear from disgrace.”

Gaditicus took the shoulder and turned it gently until Julius faced him once more.

“Weren’t you the one who told us there was no point fretting over what might have been? We’d all like to go back and make better choices, but that just isn’t the way it works. We have one chance, even if the world rests on it. I might not have sailed
Accipiter
down that piece of coast, but if I hadn’t, who knows? I might have become ill or been stabbed in an inn, or fallen down steps and broken my head open. There just isn’t any point in worrying about it. We take each day as it comes and make the best decisions we can.”