Avenger of Rome by Douglas Jackson Page A

sometimes more. A pirate chief, he would be hard put to it to fill his bigger ships these days, with the pickings so slim.’
    ‘They must have a weakness,’ Tiberius said, studying the little model critically.
    Capito looked blank as if the thought had never occurred to him, but after a few moments his face broke into a gap-toothed grin. He patted the solid oak of the side of the
Golden Cygnet
. ‘Their weakness is that they won’t ram this. Their captains are savages: thieves and murderers who revel in torture and cruelty. They abused us slaves horribly. But they are also businessmen. The galleys are built for speed, light fast craft that can fairly skim across the water if the oarsmen are driven. But that strength is also their weakness. I’ve seen a Roman galley shear clean through a pirate hull.’
    Capito returned to his station and the three commanders discussed the situation for a few minutes more before Valerius made his decision. Aurelius, in that curious ebb and flow of confidence that affects men before a battle, had pondered whether they should turn and use the ship as a sea-borne battering ram. It was an idea that appeared to have merits, but Valerius pointed out that while they were tangling with one ship the other two would undoubtedly converge on them and they would eventually be overwhelmed by sheer numbers.
    ‘No,’ he said firmly. ‘The answer is to try to outrun them if we can, but to engage them one at a time if there is no other alternative.’ He looked out over the waves. The little group of sails was closer still. ‘We need to lighten the ship.’
    In the depths of the hold Valerius’s eyes took time to adjust to the gloom and bring into focus the individual objects around him. Aurelius’s face had crumpled when Valerius had announced his decision. He had argued and growled and ‘I’ll be damned’ until it had been pointed out that his most precious cargo was the general’s daughter, and that if they lost Domitia they were unlikely to survive her father’s wrath, or Nero’s.
    Valerius’s gaze fixed on rank after rank of earthenware
amphorae
. He nodded to Aurelius. ‘Form a chain and over the side with them.’
    Aurelius winced. He could have wept, seeing his profit for the entire trip jettisoned, but he waved forward the men who had been waiting by the ramp.
    ‘What’s in here?’ Valerius pointed to an enormous stack of odd-shaped parcels and packages set to one side of the hold.
    ‘The lady Domitia’s personal baggage.’ Aurelius’s eyes widened. ‘You wouldn’t …’
    Back on deck, Valerius studied Capito’s model of the galley and tried to ignore the closing presence to the north. Above the familiar creak and groan of the constantly shifting puzzle of ropes and jointed wood that was the
Golden Cygnet
’s rigging, he heard the rhythmic splash as the ship’s cargo of finest Cretan olive oil was consigned to the depths.
    A sharp feminine shriek broke his concentration and he looked up to see Tulia, Domitia’s companion, wrestling with a sailor who was attempting to push a crate over the side. The crewman was twice Tulia’s size, but from what Valerius could see he was getting the worst of the encounter and would bear the scars for some time to come. He was about to intervene when the general’s daughter emerged from below decks. She took in the scene and he saw her fists clench and her eyes narrow. Her face took on the combative look he’d last seen on an Iceni warrior charging a Roman shield line. She advanced on the struggling pair.
    ‘What is going on, Tulia?’ she demanded.
    The freedwoman disentangled herself from her opponent. ‘They are throwing your things overboard, my lady,’ she said tearfully. ‘The tribune says anything heavy must be sacrificed.’
    Valerius felt the moment she turned on him, and when he raised his head it was like looking into the mouth of a volcano. Before she could speak, he nodded towards the stern. Her eyes followed his and