The air was filled with a whirring of slings and then lead shot zipped out across the sea in a low arc, before striking down into the pirates massing on their foredeck. The chorus of sharp cracks and thuds, and cries of pain were clearly audible to the men on the Spartan, and they responded with a ragged cheer of cruel satisfaction before more shot flew across and struck down yet more men, some falling helplessly into the narrowing gap between the hulls of the two warships where they were crushed moments later. But Cato had no time to observe any more. The trireme was already slewing round the stern of the Trident and there ahead of them lay the defenceless beam of the pirate ship. Some of her crew gazed helplessly at the large warship speeding towards them. Others, with more presence of mind, ran from the side and sought cover as more slingshot rattled across her deck. As the gap between the two ships rapidly closed, Cato found that he could now look down on the enemy and he gritted his teeth as he waited for the collision.
At the last moment, Optio Felix turned and saw his centurion leaning across the bows of the trireme. He leaped forward, grabbed Cato by the arm and hauled him back as hard as he could. As both men tumbled back on to the foredeck the worn planking leaped up with a great grinding crash and sent men tumbling all across the deck. The impact hurled Cato forward and he cracked his helmet on the bow strake. He gasped at the searing pain, before he looked round at his men. Most were picking themselves up, snatching up their weapons and moving towards the boarding ramp. But there were several casualties: men hurled forward and knocked senseless, others with broken limbs, and a steady chorus of groans and cries of pain from below deck where the oarsmen had been thrown from their benches.
Felix was already on his feet and he shoved a shield towards Cato. 'Here, sir. On your feet now.'
While Cato shook his head to try to clear it of the blurring pain the optio was thrusting men towards the crow. The trireme had struck the pirate ship at an angle, and aft of the mast Minucius already had his men hurling grappling hooks across the gap to try to draw the ships closer together. Cato stood erect and, raising his shield, he approached the prow cautiously and looked down. The ram had crushed the enemy's timber hull and penetrated six or seven feet inside. Water gurgled and bubbled as it poured in through the breach. He sensed a blur from his left and ducked down just as a light javelin glanced off the angle of his shield with a sharp crack. The men on the foredeck of the pirate ship had also recovered from the impact and now a handful turned to face their attacker as the rest hurried aboard the Trident. The pirates' trierarch must be fairly cool-headed, Cato realised. He saw that the first fight had to be won before he could afford to take on the crew of the trireme. As Cato glanced at the men dropping down on to the deck of the Trident he saw Macro and a score of his men fighting for their lives in a tight circle about the mast.
'Get that boarding ramp moving!' Cato shouted over his shoulder.
As Minucius' men hauled on the grappling lines the trireme gradually swung in towards the pirate ship. The marines on the crow's tackle heaved and the pivot groaned and squeaked as the ramp swung out over the side of the Spartan, across the surface of the water and then its shadow fell across the deck of the pirate ship.
'Let go!' Felix yelled.
As soon as the men released their grip on the tackle the heavy iron spike under the ramp swung down and pierced the planking with a splintering crash. Cheering, the marines swarmed on to the ramp and ran across to meet the enemy. A few javelins and arrows flitted towards them, but hammered into the protective wooden hoardings on either side and injured no one. Felix was standing by the near end of the ramp, thrusting men along it.
'Go! Go! You lazy bastards! Or there'll be none left for you! Go!'
Cato drew his sword and pressed himself in amongst the stream of men crossing to the enemy ship. At the far end of the ramp there was a short jump down on to the deck, then he raised his shield and held his sword ready as he looked around. Several of his men had rushed towards the bows, hacking and thrusting at any pirate that stood in their way. Cato turned towards the stern. A small party of men stood there, heavily built and well armed.
'You there!' Cato called out to the marines who had been immediately behind him on the boarding ramp.'Follow me!'
They trotted steadily towards the stern, slowing to pick their way over the tangle of fallen rigging. The gratings had been thrown open and as Cato glanced down he could see that the oars had been abandoned as the crew had armed and thrown themselves at the Romans aboard the Trident. Now there was the glint and glimmer of water sloshing through the bilges as the sea poured through the breached hull. Ahead of them the group of men closed ranks and hefted their round shields towards the Romans. There was no time for formations and tactics, and Cato filled his lungs and roared, 'Get them!' before lowering his head, leaning into his shield and throwing himself at the pirates.
On either side his men charged home and the air was filled with grunts and shouting and the scrape and clatter of sword blades. Cato's shield slammed back towards him as one of the pirates charged with a savage cry of rage. Light glittered off the side of a blade rising above Cato and he saw the man draw back a heavy falcata to slash it down and through Cato's helmet. He threw his sword up and parried the blow with a jarring clang and, before the man could recover, Cato slammed the pommel of his sword into the snarling features of the pirate's face. The man's head jerked back with a grunt and flecks of blood flickered into the air from a deep gash across his forehead. At once Cato snatched back his arm and slashed his sword into his enemy's face, the edge cutting through the bridge of the nose and into his eyes. With a scream the pirate stumbled back against the side rail. Raising his shield, Cato shoved him over the side and turned on the next pirate.
A short, stocky man with blond hair spiking out under a leather skullcap stood in a crouch, weighing the Roman centurion up with narrowed eyes. Then he raised the point of his sword and crept a step closer. Cato tensed up, ready for the man to explode into an attack. Instead, the pirate suddenly stopped, frowned and glanced down at his chest where the bloodied point of a sword tip had pierced his leather jerkin. His legs folded under him and he pitched forward. Behind him stood a marine, grinning with satisfaction as he yanked his blade out of the pirate's back. Cato opened his mouth to thank the man, but a glittering whirl scythed through the air, and right through the marine's neck, sending the head flying several feet to where it thudded on to the deck. Still swinging the sword in a wide arc the pirate jumped in front of Cato with a triumphant snarl.
Cato threw up the edge of his shield and the blade slammed into the metal trim, sending sparks flying, and throwing Cato back against the sternpost. As the man recovered his sword and stepped back a pace, Cato's eyes swept round and to his horror he discovered that he was the last Roman standing at this end of the pirate ship. All the men who had followed him were sprawled in bloody heaps on the deck, amongst the bodies of their enemies. The two pirates had the centurion to themselves.
The man with the long sword whirling overhead was dark-skinned and fat. A few feet from him stood another pirate; thin and swarthy. He wore scale armour and carried a buckler and light, curved blade that dripped blood on to the sun-bleached planks of the deck. Cato's eyes flickered from man to man as he crouched low to receive the first attack. The thin man shouted an order, and the long sword sliced through the air towards Cato's head. Dropping his knees, he hunched down and the edge of the sword cut deeply into the sternpost. So deeply that it was wedged in place and the pirate grunted savagely as he tried to wrench his weapon free. Before Cato could take advantage of the situation the younger pirate sprang forward, his light blade whirling in a flurry of attacking strokes that Cato parried desperately. When his fat comrade was clear of the Roman and had snatched up another sword, the young pirate stepped back, breathing hard.