Masters of the Sea Trilogy: Ship of Rome, Captain of Rome, Master of Rome. John Stack

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СКАЧАТЬ towards the eastern wall, his supporters immediately following to leave a forlorn minority of twenty senators on the other side of the chamber. The men of the Senate cheered at this final decision, this conclusion to their debate, the tension of the previous ten days released in a moment of shared relief. Scipio stood and was surrounded by senators who slapped congratulatory hands on his shoulders and back, as they did for Duilius, the two men seen together as the joint saviours of the Sicilian campaign, an accolade Scipio had planned as his own. The senior consul walked towards Duilius through the press of cheering senators and magnanimously offered his hand in a show of shared responsibility for the battles ahead that would be faced together. Duilius took the hand and the crowd cheered anew. The expressions of both men were expansive, both reflecting the thrill of the moment and atmosphere of the crowd. Both expressions were only skin deep. As their eyes locked only an astute observer would have seen the momentary exchange. For Scipio and Duilius the surface solidarity hid the challenge that had been thrown down and accepted. From here on the glory of Rome would take second place to the power struggle that the Carthaginian blockade had ignited between them. Both men knew that there could be only one ruler of Rome.

      ‘No, no, no, Gaius,’ Lucius argued, ‘we can’t rely on every helmsman having your skill. Any new ships built will be sailed by, at best, fishermen and traders.’

      ‘Even so,’ Gaius countered, ‘the ram is still the best way for a raw crew to defeat an experienced one. There’s no way we can teach the legionaries to board properly within a reasonable time!’

      Atticus looked on in silence, allowing the argument to draw out the full opinion of both men, their knowledge and experience vital if a solution was to be found. The three men sat in the enclosed main cabin of the Aquila, the trireme resting against her ropes at the dockside of Ostia.

      Atticus had remained at the Capito home for three days in total, his own departure coming two days after Hadria’s, the insistent calls from her aunt compelling her to return to her house in the Viminal quarter. The lack of news or orders from the Senate had chafed Atticus’s patience and he had arisen on the third day with an overwhelming urge to see his ship. On arriving at Ostia he had put every waking hour and all his energy into the Aquila. The entire running rigging had now been replaced, as had the mainsail, the replacements drawn from the extensive stores of the military camp that serviced the dozen ships of the Ostia fleet. The rowers had been brought up and housed in the slave compound behind the castrum and the slave decks had been thoroughly cleaned. Even now slaves were diving beneath the galley, removing barnacles and limpets from the hull. Once cleaned, the galley would be a half-knot faster at her top stroke.

      The three senior sailors of the Aquila had been discussing possible tactics for over an hour, the captain playing devil’s advocate to the second-in-command and the helmsman. Each time the two men agreed on a point, Atticus would counter their solution, finding a chink in their logic that would set the two men talking again. They had discussed every possible approach and how the Carthaginians might respond to any move. Having seen the Punici in action twice, the three men had little doubt of the calibre and resolve of their foe. Every possible scenario finished with the same conclusion, the same imbalance: experience.

      A new Roman fleet would be crewed by inexperienced men, civilian sailors and legionaries used to fighting on land. Inexperienced sailors meant that ramming would be a near-impossible tactic, the manoeuvring skills required taking months to perfect, the combination of angle and speed needing to be precise. This was especially pertinent since the Roman craft were of a lighter design and would be unsure of penetration if the angle was off by more than ten degrees. Over ten degrees it was likely that the ram would simply deflect off the heavier Carthaginian hull. The call for ramming speed also needed to be exact. Too late and the ship would lack the necessary momentum; too soon and the galley slaves would be spent after the first couple of encounters; it was likely that any large-scale confrontation would last for hours.

      The ability to manoeuvre alongside for boarding took considerably less skill: the angle less important, the speed only needing to be sufficient to overtake the opponent. The three men had all agreed that traders, and even fishermen, could be taught enough to master the simple manoeuvre within a week at most. The problem of inexperience now shifted to the legionaries. To train them as marines would take several months, the ability to board successfully and in sufficient numbers vital in the first minutes of any attack. Once on board, they would be without their favoured four-foot scutum shields and their years of training as land-based fighting units would count for naught, armed as they would be with a hoplon shield along with their gladius.

      ‘Gaius, Lucius,’ Atticus interrupted, trying to bring the discussion back to its centre, needing to forge ahead, ‘we’re all agreed that the sailing crews can be taught how to manoeuvre for boarding but not for ramming in the time we have.’

      ‘Yes,’ both men replied.

      ‘And we’re also agreed that our legionaries cannot be taught to board and fight using the traditional methods in the time we have.’

      ‘Yes,’ both men said again, this time Lucius sighing as the discussion circled around the obstacle.

      ‘Right. We need to concentrate on solving one of the problems only. I think the solution to the sailing problem will be harder to find, so I suggest we concentrate on the boarding issue. We need to find a way of getting our troops onto the enemy decks in sufficient numbers and with their scutum shields. Once there they’ll be unstoppable.’

      ‘Once there …’ Gaius said, as he put his mind to the task.

      The cabin became silent again as all three men applied themselves to the problem. They were still without a solution an hour later when a messenger knocked on the cabin door.

      ‘Messenger approaching,’ Domitian called from the courtyard. The senior servant turned from the main gate and ran into the atrium of the Capito estate, repeating his call as he ran. Septimus heard the call in the smaller enclosed courtyard at the rear of the compound, where he had been practising his swordplay. He threw the wooden sword to the ground and strode through the house, meeting Domitian halfway.

      ‘Messenger approaching on horseback,’ the foreman said.

      Septimus nodded and brushed past him. As he exited the front door of the house, the mounted praetorian guard entered through the main gate. He spotted Septimus and cantered towards him.

      ‘I have a message for Centurion Capito and Captain Perennis of the Aquila,’ he announced.

      ‘I am Centurion Capito. Captain Perennis is at the castrum of Ostia,’ Septimus replied.

      The praetorian guard nodded. The other messenger, sent directly to Ostia, would find the captain. The mounted soldier looked Septimus up and down, the man before him wearing a sweat-stained tunic, the black dishevelled hair giving him a wild, untamed look. He didn’t look much like a centurion. Bloody marines, the guard thought.

      ‘My master, Senior Consul Scipio, orders—’

      ‘Get off your horse and deliver your message properly,’ Septimus interrupted, his voice hard, having noticed the unconscious look of disdain creep onto the guard’s face before he spoke. The guard hesitated, but only for a heartbeat, the underlying menace of the command triggering his instinct as a soldier. He dismounted.

      ‘My master—’

      ‘Properly!’ Septimus interrupted again, his tone like iron. ‘You’re addressing a superior officer, soldier. I’ll give you one last chance to get it right.’

      Septimus drew himself to his full СКАЧАТЬ