'Then sound it. As loud as you can.'
Musa fumbled for the mouthpiece, filled his lungs and blew for all he was worth. The first note was flat and clumsy, and while Cato swore, Musa spat and tried again. This time there was a sharp, shrill blare that cut through the darkness. Musa blew three short notes, rested and then repeated the signal.
'Keep it going!' Cato slapped him on the back and went to join Atticus and the others. As he made his way across the main deck, he stepped over a body and saw several figures struggling on the far side of the hatch. He hurried round, straining his eyes to make out friend from foe. Fortunately the legionaries were all stripped down to their loincloths while the slaves wore tunics and cloaks. Cato sensed a movement to his side, and turned to see a man emerge from a small cabin under the aft deck, falcata in hand. He ducked low, and lashed out with his sword, striking the man on the shin. With a cry of agony he toppled back into the cabin and out of sight. Cato stayed in a crouch, looking round for another enemy. His heart was pounding in his chest and the cold and the tension made his body tremble. Musa was still blowing the buccina, and in the rests between the repeated notes Cato caught the strain of another faint blast of notes in the distance. The other group had begun seizing the beached ships then.
Moments later, up on one of the hills overlooking the bay, a series of sparks flickered into life, quickly flaring up as the signal was passed on to the warships waiting out at sea.
Cato backed into the side of the ship and took stock. All around him in the darkness he could hear the sounds of the vicious struggle being waged across the decks of the grain ships lying at anchor and bound together. The legionaries were giving full vent to their voices, partly to encourage each other, but mostly to add to the terror of their enemies. From the shore came the sound of more horns and the faint roar of Fulvius and his men charging the flank of the rebel palisade. Cato puffed out his cheeks. So far it was going to plan. Now it all depended on keeping the moment um going, before Ajax and his men could mount any organised resistance to the surprise attack.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
What was that?' Ajax eased himself up from his couch, ears straining to catch the sound he had heard briefly a moment before.
One of his bodyguards stood before him, holding Julia's arm firmly as she waited for Ajax's inspection. A long linen stola had been found for her, dyed a vivid blue, and he had paused to admire the spectacle of the Roman woman from his couch. She was quite a beauty, he had mused to himself as he sipped a cup of watered wine.
He had felt his lust stirring as he ran his eyes over her figure, and had begun to fantasise about the kinds of pleasure he might exact from her, while inflicting as much pain as possible, when the faint notes of a brass horn sounded in the distance. It came again. Three sharp notes, and a rest.
Ajax was instantly on his feet and running across the tent. He swept the tent flaps aside and ran out into the night, where he stopped and stared across the bay. In the light of torches and camp fires along the palisade, he saw men fighting on and around the redoubt, with tiny flickers of red light as sword blades flashed reflections of flames. Thenotes sounded again, nearer than they should, and Ajax was puzzled for a moment, until he realised with a shock that the notes came from down in the bay, from the direction of the anchored grain ships. He ducked back into the tent and stabbed his finger at the woman.
'Keep her here! Don't take your eyes off her. If she escapes or is harmed, you'll answer for it with your life!'
Snatching up his sword belt, he buckled it on as he ran towards the horse lines. Around him the men of his bodyguard were tumbling out of their tents and shelters to investigate the commotion on the far side of the bay.
'Don't just stand there!'Ajax shouted at them. 'We're under attack!
Get your weapons and ride to the palisade! Move!'
He took the nearest of the horses kept saddled and ready for use at any time of day or night, and threw himself on to the animal's back.
Snatching at the reins, he kicked his heels in and urged the horse down the path towards the main body of the rebel camp. As he passed the cage where Centurion Macro sat behind bars, he heard the Roman cheering madly, but there was no time to stop and silence his tongue. Ajax resolved to do that the first moment that could be spared.
It would be a pity to kill Centurion Macro quickly, but die he must, to honour the memory of his father. All around, figures were rising up in the glow of the camp fires and staring in confusion towards the distant fighting. Ajax bellowed at them to take up their weapons and make for the battle, before the Romans took the grain ships.
As he galloped through the camp, swerving here and there to avoid those who were too slow to react to the approaching rider, Ajax felt sick in the pit of his stomach. He had underestimated his enemy. He had been certain that the threat to destroy the grain ships, vital to the survival of Rome, would forestall any attempt to attack his camp. The ships had been carefully prepared by his men, flammable materials placed in the holds and doused with oil and pitch, ready to set on fire at the first sign of approaching Roman warships. So where were the fires? Ajax reined his horse in as he reached a small rise in the ground, and strained his eyes as he tried to make out what was happening across the bay. He could see one of the beached ships by the light of a brazier burning on the sand. Men were clustered about its bows, splashing in the shallows as they attempted to climb aboard and grapple with those defending the vessel. Then it hit him. The Romans had taken the ship. Taken all the ships... But then a sudden lick of flame from further down the beach lit up the deck and mast of one of the vessels. The fire caught and more flames gushed up into the night, accompanied by flickering tracery as the rigging started to burn. Out in the bay another fire started. Not all the ships had been taken then. There might still be a chance to beat off the attack and seize the ships back from the Romans, or at least burn them all to prevent them falling into the hands of his hated enemy.
Several of his bodyguards had caught up with him, and Ajax raised his arm and called out as he charged on towards the beach: 'Follow me!'
As they galloped on through the camp, he continued to call his followers to arms and order them to the beach. At the same time, part of his mind raged at himself. How had the Romans done this? How had they managed to get to the grain ships without being seen? He had taken every precaution. There were men watching all the approaches from land and out to sea. They could not have missed so many of the enemy. Surely? They must have used boats, but any boats would have been seen, even on this moonless night. It would only have been possible if they had swum the length of the bay, under the cover of darkness. That had to be it, he decided, furious with himself.
He could not help a moment of grudging admiration for his enemy, and then the horses reached the beach.
A large group of his men stood clustered at the edge of the camp.
Ajax halted and turned towards the riders following him. 'Kharim!
Are you with me?'
'Yes, General!' Kharim edged his mount through the others. He was naked save for a loincloth and his sword belt.
'Stay here. Get these men formed. You are to hold this part of the camp. If I send for you, come at once, you hear?'
Kharim bowed his head. 'Yes, General.'
Ajax rode on, through the gates at the end of the palisade. They were inside the perimeter of the main camp and had been left open.
Ahead of him there was utter confusion. Only one ship along the beach had been fired and it was now well ablaze, filling the air with the roar of its flames and the crackle of bursting timber as sparks swirled into the heavens. The intensity of the glare lit up the surrounding sand and water for some distance. The din of battle came from the far end of the beach, and yet all along its length -his men were visible clustered about the bows of the beached ships, trying to clamber aboard and get at the Romans, who were stripped to the waist and desperately holding them off with swords, spears and even oars.