Every man on the captured transport turned an attentive and hopeful eye toward the admiral.
"You are Caesarian scum, and I have no use for you!"
"Begging your pardon, my lord!" echoed a voice from the transport. Moments later a tanned, dark-haired man wearing the shortened tunic of a sailor groped his way to the rail. "I beg permission to speak!"
"Who are you?" Bibulus asked impatiently.
"I am the captain of this vessel, my lord. My men and I do not bear any allegiance to Caesar. We are simple Athenians who make our trade shipping goods between Spain and Africa. We had been away from these waters for many months, and were on our way home, when we stopped in Brundisium to water. There, we were immediately seized upon by Caesar's lieutenants and forced to carry these troops across the sea. We had no way of knowing this act was in defiance of the great Pompey and the Senate of Rome. Now that we know these things, we spit on Caesar and all of his followers. I beg you, great Admiral, have mercy on me and my crew."
Bibulus did not appear moved in the least. "Mercy shall be extended, but only to one."
This announcement caused an audible groan from the captives, many of whom now outstretched their hands in supplication.
"Who is to be spared, my lord?" the Greek captain asked, after managing to quiet the small commotion around him. He spoke in Latin, a tongue that the majority of his crew, more than likely, could not understand. "I would humbly offer my services, my lord, should you choose me. I am a skilled navigator and can serve you well in any capacity you desire. The rest of these are mindless deck hands, not worthy of -"
"Hear this, all of you!" Bibulus interrupted. "The old ways will tell us whom the gods have chosen. You will fight to the death."
As the admiral's statement was translated into Greek and other tongues, and as the comprehension moved through the crowd, so did the clamor of protest. At first, both Romans and Greeks alike expressed a collective outrage at the cruel pronouncement, but after the initial shock wore off, they began casting suspicious glances at one another, as if to question the intentions of their own shipmates. Still, none appeared eager to comply with the edict. Libo noticed that the Greek captain was an exception to this. While the others raucously objected, he remained silent, rubbing his chin and sneaking sidelong glances at the hatchways, as if formulating a plan in his head.
Bibulus appeared somewhat amused by the remonstrations, but finally raised one hand to silence them. "I vow that the man who is still standing, after all others have been slain, will not be harmed. That man shall live. Before Juno, you have my word."
This did little to change the fervor of the protests. The Caesarian legionaries shouted vile curses on the admiral, demanding that he slay them all together that they might die honorably as soldiers, not as gladiators for others' amusement.
Libo felt pity for them, but there was nothing he could do. Still puzzled by the orange pennant, he scanned the roiling crowd for any recognizable face, any person of importance, any badge of office, but no man stood out over the others. It then occurred to him that the Greek captain would certainly know its meaning, and he began contemplating how he might convince Bibulus to let the Greek live.
Libo was still contemplating this when he suddenly realized that the Greek captain had disappeared. He was nowhere to be seen on the deck. Could he have gone below?
The answer came a heartbeat later, when a tumult erupted near the aft hatchway. There were legionaries there, but they were not shouting curses at the admiral like the others. Libo saw a flash of steel in the sun, and then saw the legionaries crumple, their faces twisted in pain and horror. They were being assailed from behind. When they finally fell away dead, Libo saw who had slain them. The Greek captain had emerged from the hatchway at the head of a band of screaming sailors. To a man, they were bedecked in bronze helmets, mail, and arms of all kind. In a whirlwind of swinging blades and jabbing points, they set upon every unsuspecting man, killing Roman, Greek, and slave alike. Before the legionaries realized what was happening, more than a dozen of them had fallen victim to the plunging Greek swords. Many, still weakened from sea-sickness, were cut down before they could draw out their own gladii. Bare necks were severed, mail shirts stabbed through, and men hacked to death like animals.
The sailors, accustomed to the sea and little affected by the stomach-churning rolls of the previous evening, advanced from aft to fore in good order – thrusting, slashing, and slaying. The Greek captain stood in their second rank, pushing his men onward, encouraging them to kill without mercy. Evidently, he had convinced the small cadre that their best chance was to stand together. Confusion and madness now spread throughout the entire ship. Those who, moments before, had stood side by side in defiance of the admiral, now stood embraced in deadly struggles. Men without weapons were killed quickly, and then the armed men turned on each other. Single combats abounded. Some twos and threes united in many places, ganging up on individuals and killing them with a ruthlessness stirred from the evil depths of their souls. But as more and more fell to sword and cudgel, the small alliances invariably dissolved. This was not the case with the sailors under the Greek captain who kept his men together, even ordered them to open ranks to invite the stouter men to join them. Those whose skills lay more in seamanship than swordplay were not allowed inside the formation, and were killed outright.
Libo noticed that a similar alliance had assembled on the foredeck, where a few of the more steady Romans had formed into a battle line and faced aft, killing any Greek or slave that approached. Like the Greeks, they allowed only their own countrymen through, and soon the two opposing formations were all that remained on deck, separated by a carpet of twitching bodies. The Greeks far outnumbered the Romans, and presaged their attack with confident jeers and curses. But those few legionaries that remained were the stouter ones, and they answered the Greeks with taunts and challenges of their own, their red-tipped gladii poised to taste more blood. The Greeks would not take them without heavy losses, but the Greek captain goaded his men forward in spite of this, himself standing in the rear as they advanced.
Libo then noticed two men that he had not seen before. They emerged from the forward hatchway behind the Roman line. One was tall and broad-shouldered and wore the cross-plumed helmet of a centurion. This man was hardy, with stern features and eyes that gave the advancing Greek line the minutest of glances, as if the countless battles in his past had imbued him with an instinct to quickly assess and deal with any threat. The crimson gladius in his hand told of many such threats that he had already dispatched belowdecks. The man with the centurion was also Roman. He was a noble, suited in a costly bronze corselet and black cloak. This man was much slighter in stature than the centurion, older, and trimmed with graying hair around his ears. He appeared sickly and feeble – either that, or he was badly wounded. He leaned heavily on the centurion as both moved to join the Roman line.
Whatever ailed him, Libo thought, he was important – of legate rank at least – and very likely knew the reason for the orange pennant. As the opposing lines joined battle, and the first row of Greeks began jabbing boarding pikes at the clustered legionaries, Libo moved closer to Bibulus that he might speak unheard. Bibulus seemed lost in another world, but unlike the others on the flagship, who gleefully watched the melee and hooted and howled at each fatal thrust, the admiral gazed at the shore.
"Admiral, I am certain there is some kind of importance attached to that ship. If not something, then someone." Libo waited for some response to this, but seeing that none was forthcoming, he spoke again. "That man there, under the protection of the big centurion, he looks to be of senior rank. Do you see him?"