hand sweeping across to grab the hilt of his sword. Atticus made to react when he sensed then saw an extended sword to his right as Lucius stepped forward to defend his captain. Vitulus’s eyes swept from Atticus to Lucius and he halted his advance, his hand still holding the hilt of his sword but the blade remaining sheathed. He backed off a pace, turning his gaze once more to Atticus, his eyes conveying a thinly veiled warning.
‘Lucius,’ Atticus said, putting his hand out to lower Lucius’s blade, ‘Take the tribune below to the main cabin. See that he stays there for his own protection until we clear Thermae.’
Lucius nodded without a word and sheathed his sword before taking Varro by the arm, the stunned youth offering no resistance as he was led away.
Atticus sobered for a second, remembering that there were four senators on the aft-deck, each one witness to his insubordination and the crime of striking a commanding officer, a crime punishable by summary execution. His eyes caught those of the senator who had stepped across Varro’s path. The senator held Atticus’s gaze for a second before nodding imperceptibly, his decision made, and turned his back and looked out over the side rail. The other three senators watched his gesture intently and they each followed suit without hesitation, understanding and agreeing with his decision. Each had fought bravely when the Punici had boarded, moving into the battle line without hesitation. They were all former warriors who, as in countless times in their youth, shed their fear and stepped up to the fight. They had been ashamed of Varro’s behaviour, the overt fear that shamed his rank, and so now they turned their backs. They had witnessed nothing.
Atticus inwardly sighed at the reprieve and turned his attention to the docks once more. He looked to his hand and found that it was shaking, a combination of anger and pure adrenaline at the foolhardy risk he had just taken. For a heartbeat he thought of Varro and the shocked demeanour of the young man after he had been struck. Atticus had seen that look many times before, the shock of physical violence from those who were unaccustomed to it. The feeling would not last and Atticus had no doubt that although the senators might deny that they had seen the strike, Varro would not forget the insult.
‘All principes and triarii to stand in the defensive line. Hastati to form ranks at the docks!’
As the order was repeated across the ranks of the Ninth, Septimus began to make his way back to the defensive line. An outstretched arm stayed his progress.
‘Where do you think you’re going?’ Marcus asked.
‘To the line,’ Septimus replied automatically, not understanding the question.
‘The hell you are!’ Marcus said. ‘This is not your fight.’
‘But…’ Septimus began but Marcus cut him short.
‘You’re a marine Centurion, Septimus. Your duty lies with your galley and your men.’
Septimus made to protest again but Marcus ignored him, shouting over his shoulder, ‘Signifier of the IV!’
Within seconds the standard bearer of the IV maniple was at their side.
‘Septimus,’ Marcus began, ‘I need you to do me a favour.’
‘Another one?’ Septimus smiled, already realising what Marcus was going to ask.
‘Take my hastati from the IV onto the Aquila and see them safely away.’
Septimus nodded, assuming the familiar mantle he had carried in the Ninth over two years before.
‘Yes, Centurion,’ Septimus replied, saluting the older man, his friend and former mentor.
Marcus punched Septimus’s breastplate twice, his expression friendly. He turned without another word and strode off towards the defensive line, the more experienced men of his maniple already deploying under the optio of the IV. Septimus watched him until he was lost in the crush of men crowded along the docks. Only then did he lower his salute.
Septimus spun around to find the Signifier standing firm, the hastati of the IV finding their way unerringly to the standard as ranks were formed all along the dock. Septimus noticed there were no more than twenty hastati remaining, less than half their original number, their comrades lost in the initial charge and subsequent street fighting.
‘Men of the IV, on me!’ Septimus shouted as he advanced towards the water’s edge, his eyes sweeping the inner harbour for the Aquila as the Roman galleys converged. ‘There!’ Atticus said, his outstretched hand pointing out the standard of the IV maniple. ‘Do you see it, Gaius?’
‘Yes, Captain,’ the helmsman replied and adjusted the Aquila’s course. Within a minute the galley was lined up with dock directly opposite the standard of Septimus’s old maniple where Atticus hoped to find his friend.
‘Steerage speed!’ the captain shouted, slowing the galley to two knots as Gaius brought the hull perpendicular to the dock.
‘All stop!’
The blades of two hundred oars were dropped into the water, creating a drag that stopped the Aquila within a halfship length. The order was given to raise oars as the ram gently nudged the dock and the corvus was lowered. To the left and right another six galleys followed suit, their exposed sterns protected by a screen of three more Roman galleys that kept a constant vigil against the remaining Carthaginian galleys milling around the harbour, the confluence of Roman ships with their deadly corvi keeping them at bay for the moment.
Atticus walked down the main deck, his eyes never leaving the head of the corvus, trying to discern the familiar sight of his friend amongst the throng of battle weary soldiers. He spotted him almost immediately and stood directly in his path. As Septimus approached he held his hand out, the centurion smiling in recognition. They shook hands, legionary style, with hands gripping forearms. Atticus slapped Septimus on the shoulder, the smile never leaving his face. He hadn’t seen his friend since Mylae.
‘Welcome home,’ Atticus said, as the legionaries pushed around them, the main deck becoming ever more crowded.
Septimus nodded, his gaze taking in every detail of the galley he had served on for over a year, the rise and fall of the deck beneath his feet unfamiliar after so many months on land. He nodded. ‘It’s good to be back,’ he replied.
The smile disappeared from his face as he looked over Atticus’s shoulder to the carnage of the outer harbour.
‘What are our chances?’ he asked.
‘We’ll see,’ Atticus replied. ‘What are the Legate’s plans?’
‘He’s going to break out east with the principes and triarii.’
Atticus nodded. He looked over his shoulder and counted the Roman galleys within sight. Enough to take the hastati but no more. The rest of the Ninth would be left to Fortuna’s whim.
The Aquila pushed off minutes later, her full complement now supplemented by an additional eighty legionaries from the Ninth legion. The other Roman galleys unconsciously formed on the flanks of the Aquila as they turned from the inner harbour, their bows re-creating an arrow-head formation. There were near twenty in total and Gaius set their course for the centre of the line in the outer harbour, a course that would hopefully shatter the line and allow the greatest number of Roman galleys to escape. On their
