"The augury has spoken, Libo," Bibulus said with a tone of finality. “Now, let them die."
The admiral then raised a single hand in preparation for giving the fatal order, but paused when a sudden spate of guttural noises emanating from the cage drew his attention away. Bibulus slowly crept closer to see what the creature was doing. Odulph had retreated to the far corner, its hair-covered body wracked with spasms as it tried to digest the mass of olives it had just devoured. Some of the most inhuman noises Libo had ever heard now came from that cage. He wanted to look away, in sharp contrast to Bibulus who observed the creature's agony with open-mouthed expectation, as if watching the birthing of a calf.
Finally, with a final heave, the creature ejected the contents of its throat. A single slimy, round object shot out of the cage and rolled to a stop at Bibulus's feet. Libo could clearly see that it was an olive, shiny and grotesque in an oozing pool of saliva, but it was completely intact.
Bibulus's eyes instantly filled with wonder at the omen, and he appeared utterly speechless. Libo, however, saw his chance and wasted no time in exploiting it.
"There, Admiral!" Libo exclaimed. "The message could not be any clearer. The gods give life to these men. For what other meaning could be ascribed to such an auspice?"
"Quite right," Bibulus replied, after staring at the disgorged object for a long moment. "You are quite right, commodore." The admiral then turned to face him. "But only one."
"One?"
"One. And that I leave up to you."
Libo was incredulous and inwardly perturbed at the admiral's interpretation. “I do not understand, my lord. One cannot be – "
"Choose quickly, Libo," Bibulus interrupted impatiently. "I will not keep Caesar waiting!"
Libo swallowed once, gazing at the mixed transports with their crews and passengers lining the decks, all looking back at the flagship. How was one to make such a choice? Bibulus was looking more impatient with each passing moment, and so Libo made the only logical choice he could.
"The ship with the orange pennant. Spare that one, if you please, my lord."
Bibulus smiled and then turned to a nearby aide. "Order that ship to pull clear of the rest. The rest are to stay where they are or they will be sunk immediately."
The signal was given, and the large transport complied, its oars slowly thrusting it away from the other captives and closer to the flagship. When it had moved far enough, Bibulus's face seemed to come alive with a vengeful fury.
"Now, Caesar, my old colleague!" He shouted at the figures on the walls of the far-off fort. "A little something for your amusement!”
With a single downward sweep of Bibulus's arm, forty bowstrings twanged, four great engines recoiled on their mounts. The flaming missiles took to the air, converging on the helpless vessels. Following the cue from the flagship, a dozen other quinqueremes released their lethal weapons as well, filling the sky with hundreds of parabolic black streaks that followed the trails of the first missiles. A cry of horror went up from the cluster of transports as hundreds of terrified men saw their doom approaching. Officers could be heard shouting orders in a desperation to get their ships underway again, but only a few of the oars complied before the flaming death crashed into the weather-beaten fleet. Giant boulders lathered in burning pitch broke through warped planking to burrow within the lower decks and holds. Screams of shackled slaves unable to escape the bounding stones of death carried across the water.
Sails caught fire and were instantly consumed. Burning canvas and cordage fell to spread fire to the decks and bulwarks. Frenzied sailors and legionaries ran this way and that, some leaping over the side, some into the flames while others, transfixed by arrows, crumpled to the deck twitching or dead. The flames jumped quickly from one vessel to another, and soon merged into an incongruous mass in which one burning hull was indistinguishable from the next. The screams of the suffering resonated across the water, and touched a chord of dishonor within Libo. For this was no way for Roman soldiers to meet their deaths, and he had to keep reminding himself that there was nothing he could have done to stop it.
Before the last cries were silenced aboard the burning wreckage, Bibulus gave another order.
"Signal that ship to draw closer, Quintus," the admiral said to the Argonaut's captain while pointing at the unscathed ship with the orange pennant.
As the sole surviving transport complied with the signal and slowly stroked closer to the flagship, Libo silently thanked Jupiter that at least these men would be spared.
When the listing vessel heaved to less than a stone's throw from the flagship, Libo could see that large sections of planking were missing where she had been thrashed by the storm. Dozens of faces peered over the rails, some pale and sickly, some gripped with fear, others glowering. There were legionaries in various states of armor and arms, and sailors in short tunics, some with light mail shirts. A party of several dozen bare-chested slaves of nearly every race passed buckets of seawater up from belowdecks in a long line that ended at the railing, where each bucket was emptied in its turn and then dropped through an open hatch to be filled again. A pulsating flow spewing overboard from two lead pipes intimated that many more men toiled belowdecks on the bilge pumps.
Libo's seasoned eye told him they were fighting a losing battle. He was just about to suggest to Bibulus that a galley be brought up and lines secured to stabilize the teetering craft, when the admiral addressed him.
"There they are, Libo," Bibulus said perfunctorily, gesturing at the mass of men crowded on the vessel's main deck. "Choose."
"I'm sorry, Admiral. I'm not sure I understand -"
"The augury indicated that one should be spared. And since you were so precipitate in interpreting the message from the gods, I think it only right that you should choose the man who is to live." Bibulus was not smiling now, the perturbation evident on his face. "Choose, Libo. Select one man to receive mercy."
Libo could sense that now was not the time to point out that if thirty olives digested meant that thirty ships were condemned, then certainly the one intact olive meant that the gods intended for this entire ship and crew to be spared. Libo detected that he had already gone too far, and Bibulus was letting him know it.
IV
As Libo scanned the hundred or more bleak faces staring back at him, he could find no measure by which to select the one to be spared. They all looked the same, as men condemned to the cross. The cluster of legionaries on the transport’s foredeck looked haggard and frightened. Surely he could not spare one of these. And how could he choose from the Greek sailors and let the Romans die?
"I must defer to your superior judgement, Admiral," Libo said with the utmost courtesy. "Such a noble act of mercy should come from your hand, not mine."
Bibulus seemed amused by that. "Well said, Libo. It is rather indulgent of me, considering all that I have suffered at the hands of these devils. But, alas, even I am not worthy to make such a decision. Since the gods have called for mercy, the gods shall choose who is to be spared." Then, turning to the rail, Bibulus raised his voice to speak across the strip of water. "Listen to me, all of you!"