Ship of Rome. John Stack

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ of our own. Probably a pirate hunter.’

      Hamilcar nodded, allowing a silence to develop once more, his experience in the Council chamber of Carthage dictating his line of questioning.

      ‘She will flee along the northern coast of Sicily then?’

      Gisco grunted a reply, disliking the young man and his presence on board the flagship. The Council’s interference in military affairs had reached new depths with the appointment of Barca, the Council’s ‘envoy’, an advisory observer who shadowed Gisco’s command.

      ‘No doubt to the nearest Roman port, where she will give advance warning to all that our fleet has entered these waters…’ Hamilcar persisted, trying to get Gisco to reveal his thoughts on the change in circumstances.

      ‘It is of little consequence, Barca, the Romans would have found out soon enough,’ Gisco replied, avoiding any admission that his failure to capture the Roman trireme was in any way significant.

      A sudden knock on the door interrupted their conversation.

      ‘Come,’ Gisco ordered.

      The commander of his personal guard, Cronus, entered. He snapped to attention.

      ‘Captain Maghreb of the Hermes reporting as ordered, Admiral.’

      ‘Good, show him in, Cronus.’

      Gisco rose from his chair. He leaned over his desk, strewn with Carthaginian maps of the waters around the eastern and northern coasts of Sicily. Maghreb entered, led by the guard commander and flanked by four more soldiers. His sword and dagger had been removed. He stood to attention and saluted.

      ‘Reporting as ordered, Admiral,’ he said, trying to hide the tension in his voice. He failed. Gisco could sense the captain’s fear.

      ‘Captain,’ the admiral began, ‘I have studied all our maps and charts of these waters. I can find no reference to the whirlpool we encountered this morning. The Romans tricked us using superior local knowledge. We could not have been aware of their plans.’

      Maghreb visibly relaxed and, although he still stood to attention, Gisco noticed that the tension had gone out of his shoulders and he was no longer holding his breath.

      ‘They will not escape the next time they cross our path,’ Maghreb added, sensing the admiral’s mood.

      ‘No, Captain, they will not,’ Gisco replied, his voice cold.

      The two men stood facing each other in silence and Maghreb felt uncomfortable once more under Gisco’s gaze. The admiral’s expression was impossible to read, but the captain sensed that he would evade blame for the escape of the Roman galley.

      He was wrong.

      ‘Guard commander!’ Gisco suddenly ordered, breaking the heavy silence. ‘This man disobeyed my orders, he must be punished. Seize him.’

      Cronus looked at two of the guards and jerked his head towards the captain. They immediately rushed forward and grabbed his arms. Maghreb’s initial shock at the admiral’s words gave way to fear and he struggled against the men holding him.

      ‘But…’ he pleaded, fear consuming him, his mind unable to comprehend the admiral’s actions, ‘you said yourself, I couldn’t have known of the Romans’ trap. We were taken by surprise. We—’

      ‘Enough!’ Gisco bellowed, cutting across the captain’s pleas. ‘You were ordered to continue your pursuit of the Roman vessel. You did not and they escaped. There are no excuses.’

      ‘But…’ Maghreb began again, hopelessness overwhelming him.

      ‘Take him away, Commander,’ Gisco ordered. ‘Have him straddle the ram.’

      The pronounced sentence instantly silenced Maghreb, an overwhelming wave of terror engulfing him. Cronus saluted and led the condemned man from the cabin.

      Hamilcar had watched the entire exchange with disbelief. In the two months since being appointed to shadow Gisco, he had become increasingly aware of the man’s serpentine nature. Hamilcar had witnessed scenes like this before and as always his honour was offended by Gisco’s methods. The admiral always lulled an enemy before striking and Hamilcar knew it served no purpose other than to satisfy Gisco’s ego.

      The admiral noticed Hamilcar’s expression as he sat back down behind his desk. The captain’s renewed cries for mercy could be heard through the cabin door as he was dragged up onto the deck above and brought forward to meet his fate.

      ‘You disapprove, Barca?’

      Hamilcar kept his peace, sensing Gisco’s dislike for his position, knowing the admiral wanted to provoke a confrontation to justify his actions.

      ‘Let me tell you something, young man,’ Gisco began, his voice patronizing. ‘Fear is what drives men. Fear of failure. Fear of retribution. Fear of—’

      ‘Hannibal Gisco?’ Hamilcar interrupted, his own censure evident in every word.

      ‘Yes,’ Gisco replied, as if trying to explain his reasoning to an obtuse child, ‘fear of Hannibal Gisco. Maghreb was ordered to hunt down the Roman galley and he failed. Now he will pay for that failure with his life.’

      Hamilcar bit back his retort, knowing the futility of arguing against a man such as Gisco. The man had no honour, no sense of the true motivation of men, the drive that inspires them to create and control an empire. He got up slowly from the couch, sensing the admiral’s dismissive gaze as he moved towards the door. He walked out without a word, glad to be out of Gisco’s company.

      Hamilcar reached the deck as Cronus and two others were climbing back over the forerail. Hamilcar walked down the length of the galley, ignoring the guard commander as they passed each other amidships. By the time he reached the foredeck, Cronus had issued the order for the Melqart to get back under way. Hamilcar looked over the forerail to the figure of Maghreb below. He was tied in a supine position, face up, over the six-foot ram of the galley. With the ship at rest, half of his body was submerged under the water; however, as the quinquereme picked up speed to reach standard, the waves began to crash over him. Maghreb would drown slowly. Very slowly.

      Hamilcar watched in dread fascination as Maghreb tried to draw breath between waves. An errant crest filled his mouth with water and he coughed and spluttered to clear his tortured lungs. He gained a moment’s respite but within a minute he was caught again. Maghreb threw his face up and Hamilcar was given a vision of pure terror. A cry of anguish was cut short by the cold sea, her unending current oblivious to the fate of the terrified captain. Maghreb cleared his throat again but all the while his lungs continued to fill with water.

      At standard speed, in calm coastal waters, Hamilcar estimated it would take at least thirty minutes for Maghreb to drown. The Melqart was flanked on both sides by other galleys, many of their crew lining the rails to witness the captain’s punishment. Hamilcar could see from their expressions that Gisco was achieving his aim of inspiring fear in the heart of each man. Maghreb was silent, his thrashing arms and manic face the only testament to his futile struggle against the sea. Hamilcar stepped back from the forerail, hiding the captain from his line of sight.

      Hamilcar had spent the first ten years of his military career in Iberia, stationed in Malaka on the southern coast. It was the frontier СКАЧАТЬ