The Eagles Prophecy

'Sorry?' Macro glanced up. 'What've you got to be sorry for, mate? It's not your fault. Nothing to do with you.'

'I know. But you're my friend. I don't like to see you like this.'

'Like this?' Macro was quiet for a moment, and then sat up. He rose to his feet. 'No point in brooding over it. I'm getting dressed. We've got that briefing with the prefect at noon.'

'You know, you might try talking to your mother about all this. Not right now, maybe…'

'Over my dead body, or preferably hers, and that old goat Minucius.'

Cato recognised his friend's mood well enough and knew that there was no point in discussing the issue further, for the present.

'Very well then, but promise me you'll keep well clear of Minucius.'

'Cato, I'm not a little boy, so don't bloody speak to me like I'm one. As long as we're in uniform I'll work alongside that bastard without a word. But when we're off duty, that's different. He'd better stay out of my way if he wants to live to see retirement.'

As the last note of the midday signal died away the officers of the Ravenna fleet assembled in the prefect's office. His clerks had pushed all the furniture aside and filled the space with benches from the officers' mess, arranging them to face the map on the far wall. All the centurions and optios from the marines were present, as well as the trierarchs of every vessel in the fleet. Cato, sitting next to Macro near the front of the audience, surreptitiously glanced round, looking for Minucius, but there was no sign of him. As soon as all the officers had entered the room and taken their seats, the air filled with an excited hubbub of conversation. Rumours had already flown round the base, fuelled by the activity down on the wharf, and every officer was keen to know what the prefect had planned.

Vitellius' chief clerk, Postumus, stepped smartly into the doorway and called out, 'Commanding officer present!'

The benches grated as the officers rose quickly and stood to attention. The prefect entered the office and strode down the gap left in the middle of the rows of benches and took up position to one side of the map. He glanced over his officers for a moment before he spoke.

'You may be seated, gentlemen.'

When everyone had settled down Vitellius stared at Macro. 'You look as if you have already seen some action, Centurion.'

A ripple of laughter went through the assembled officers.

'So what happened to you, Macro?'

'I, er, slipped and fell down some stairs, sir.'

'Really?' Vitellius' eyes glinted mischievously. 'Was that before or after your mother gave you a hiding?'

More laughter, louder this time, and the blood drained from Macro's face.

'Steady,' Cato whispered.'Don't give him the satisfaction.'

The door to the office squeaked on its hinges as Minucius slipped through the gap, closed the door behind him and quickly sat down on the nearest bench. His face was black, purple and yellow with bruising and his nose was broken.

'Ah, the prospective stepfather, I presume. Now that the family's all here, let's get down to business.'

The laughter subsided and the officers looked intently towards the prefect. Vitellius clasped his hands behind his back and began.

'As you know, in recent months the coastlines of Apulia, Umbria, Liburnia and Illyricum have been ravaged by a new pirate threat. A few days ago they destroyed the colony at Lissus. This morning I have had news of the sacking of a second colony. This is a most disturbing development, gentlemen. It's bad enough that they have been preying on our trade routes without being punished, but wiping out our colonies demands action, and punishment of the utmost severity. Their leader, Telemachus, has recently communicated to us a demand for tribute to refrain from destroying any more colonies. My answer to him is unequivocaclass="underline" Rome does not negotiate with pirates. My orders were to remove the pirate threat, and today we take the first steps towards achieving that end. I am leaving six biremes for the defence of Ravenna. The rest of the fleet and the marine reinforcements will be leaving the port in five days' time to sail across to the coast of Illyricum.'

Vitellius picked up a cane and pointed to the map. 'We will land near Birnisium, and establish a fortified camp. From there we will search the coastline, mile by mile, until we locate the pirates' lair. We will take it, and destroy their ships and kill or capture their crews. Any prisoners will be sold into slavery. Except the leaders, who will be executed.'

Macro leaned slightly towards Cato. 'And no doubt our friend will soak up the popular acclaim.'

Fortunately Vitellius did not hear the remark as he turned from the map. 'Any questions?'

'Sir.' A hand went up towards the back of the room.

'Yes, Decimus?'

'Those alterations being made to those triremes on the wharf…?'

'Yes, what of them?'

'One of the men told me they were installing a crow.' Cato recalled the apparatus he had seen being fitted to the triremes earlier. The crow was the navy's term for the rotating boarding ramp used on some ships.

'That's right. We'll be engaging the pirates ship to ship. I've heard how manoeuvrable their vessels are. We need a method of fixing them so that our marines can decide the issue. So, I have decided to fit each of our ships with the device. I can't wait to see the pirates' faces when those boarding ramps drop down and pin them in place. It'll be just like sticking a pig.'

'But surely you won't be fitting them to the biremes as well, sir.'

'Like I said, every ship.'

The trierarchs exchanged concerned looks and there was some muttering. Vitellius rapped the bottom of his cane down on the mosaic floor to signal for silence.

'Is there a problem with my decision, Decimus?'

'Well, yes, sir.'

Vitellius bristled at the condescending tone. 'Please explain yourself.'

'With the load they're carrying, the biremes aren't really big enough for a crow, sir. Aside from the deck collar, there's the ramp itself, the sideguards and all spars and tackle needed to raise it and swing it out towards the enemy ships. It'll make the biremes top-heavy. If there's a storm, or even heavy seas, they'll be dangerously unstable.'

'I've thought of that,' Vitellius replied sharply.'The ships will be taking on extra supplies and equipment. That ballast – as I believe you navy types call it – should counteract the weight of a crow.'

Decimus considered the idea for a moment and then shook his head.

'What is the problem?' Vitellius' irritation was apparent to all.

'Sir, the amount of ballast required would overload the vessels. They have a low enough freeboard as it is.'

'Freeboard?'

'The measurement from waterline to deck, sir.'

'Ah. I'm sure the, er, freeboard, will be adequate for our crossing. And once we have crossed the sea and unloaded our supplies and equipment, that need not concern you any more. As for being top-heavy, well, we can experiment with the required ballast when the time comes. Any other questions?… Good. Then, gentlemen, you may collect your orders from my chief clerk as you leave headquarters. You'll need to see to your men and make sure they're fully prepared and equipped for a lengthy campaign. We're in for a busy few days, and a hard fight. But, if these pirates have been half as successful as we're led to believe, there'll be plenty of booty for all. On that happy thought I bid you good day.'

The officers rose as Vitellius strode towards the door, and only stood easy once he had left the room. As the centurions, optios and trierarchs shuffled towards the door, Cato was relieved to see Minucius push his way through the throng and leave the prefect's office as swiftly as possible. Macro stared after him, glowering with hatred.

Cato slapped him on the shoulder and gave Macro an exaggerated smile.'You heard him. Booty for all. If it goes to plan, we'll be rolling in it. No more squalid digs in the arse-end of Rome for us.'