“Yes of course sir. As always your advice is greatly appreciated.”
“Once we get past those bigger ships anchored there we will stop rowing and glide onto the beach.”
“The beach?”
“Yes. There won’t be time to secure the ships to the dock as usual. No the ships Captain’s have orders to drive the ships straight onto the beach. You seem surprised at this.”
“Yes sir.”
“Speak your mind.”
Dolabella knew Caesar hated his orders or decisions to be questioned and he was glad for the invite to speak openly.
“Caesar I know you would have thought things through carefully before making such a decision but if the ships are beached we would not, could not re-float them in an emergency if we needed to. For instance if we have to evacuate our assault.”
“I know and the God’s I’ve prayed for an alternative but in this one I am sure. We need the element of surprise in this Dolabella. We have to land on Pharos island and quickly secure the neighbourhoods and the lighthouse. I am convinced this can only be done with a lightning strike. Once we control these we can defend the harbour and our ships will be safe to come and go.”
“How well defended is this area of the city sir?”
“I’m hoping not very. There is no access to the Royal palace from this side. The outer walls are at their highest and thickest here. As of yet the Alexandrians have not attempted to besiege us from there. In the streets I would imagine the most they have done is erect barricades. The lighthouse is manned by the Egyptian army so they will have to be dealt with swiftly.”
They were now approaching a much larger galley, torches burning on its decks.
“Is that one of ours Caesar?”
“No.”
“Why did the Egyptians leave it here? Do you think it’s a trap?”
Caesar studied the vessel. He turned and made a signal to the helmsman.
‘Steer to port,’ the helmsman said to himself.
The moon suddenly appeared from the clouds again. Caesar saw new wood near the waterline.
“There Dolabella. She is being repaired. See the new timber.”
Both men relaxed. The enemy ship wasn’t ready for war. The moon disappeared behind more cloud just as someone passed in front of a torch on the deck.
“Sir someone’s up there,” Dolabella whispered.
“Where?”
“There sir,” pointing with his finger, “I think it was a sentry.”
“I don’t see anyone.”
“I can’t now but I saw him just as the moon went in again.”
“Are you absolutely sure?”
“Yes. Earlier I thought I saw one but this time I have no doubt.”
“I can’t see him.”
“He’s there. I know it.”
The moon reappeared, lighting up the sea, the ship.
“There he is now sir do you see him?”
“No.”
“There. He’s almost at the stern. Can you see him now?”
“No. My eyes are obviously not as good as yours.”
“When he turns he’ll probably see us.”
Caesar clicked his fingers at an archer standing nearby.
“Can you see him?”
“Yes sir.”
“Prepare to fire.”
The archer notched an arrow and drew back his bow.
“Don’t fire unless you’re absolutely sure you can bring him down in one shot.”
“Yes sir. I’ve already compensated for the wind. It won’t be an easy shot.”
“He has to be killed. If he’s wounded or you miss our game’s up.”
“I won’t miss sir.”
The sentry patrolling the repaired Trireme got to the end of his pacing and stopped. He spat over the rear of the ship and rolled his aching shoulders. He had been patrolling now for four hours alone. He had given up counting his footsteps. Twelve from the bow, seventy seven for the deck, eleven to the rear steering oars. That made exactly one hundred. He yawned and glanced east, then continued his pacing for a few moments, then stopped dead, a puzzled look on his face. For a moment, in the moonlight, he’d thought he’d seen a large ship sailing directly for him. He turned and looked again and died. The Roman arrow smashed into his mouth drowning out any sound he could have made. He staggered forward and toppled over the side and fell with a heavy splash into the harbour.
“Well done,” was all Caesar said.
Their ship maneuvered around the galley and through smaller ships and boats, the sail filled out by the strong wind. Now in the moonlight Julius could see Pharos island and the beach ahead. Four hundred yards ahead, three fifty, three hundred.
“Steady as she goes.”
Two fifty, two hundred.
“Keep her steady.”
Caesar looked behind to see that the two other ships were flanking his. They were, some distance apart.
One hundred and fifty yards. One hundred.
“Ship oars!”
The oars were raised up out of the water and retracted.
Fifty yards to the beach men rushed up from below deck with swords ready. Most were sweating. Some were barechested.
Twenty five yards.
“Prepare for beaching.”
Men planted their legs firmly or held on with free hands. Everyone on board felt the keel of the ship scrape along the bottom of the harbour, throwing men momentarily off balance, but the sheer weight of the ship gave it the momentum to continue up the beach for a short distance. The heavy ram on the prow ploughed through the sand until it came to a stop.
“Go! Go! Go!” Caesar now broke the silence and shouted at his men.
Rope ladders were thrown over the sides and secured as men rushed up and over and down onto the soft, cool, sand. Those nearest the prow didn’t wait for ladders and they leapt over the side and dropped the short distance to the sand.
Caesar watched as once ashore his men raced up the beach and headed for the first buildings. One man he noticed was already lagging behind, clearly limping from hitting the beach too hard and twisting his ankle.
The next ship shuddered to a stop on Caesar’s left and he watched as another fifty of his men stormed the beach, quickly becoming dark shapes and black shadows on the moonlit sand.
The last ship was also beached and these sixty spread themselves out covering the three galleys and waited. Caesar descended a wooden ladder, Dolabella right behind. Once on the beach Julius nodded to the senior officer.
“Let’s move.”
“Yes sir. Form up. Quickly! Protect Caesar at all costs. Maintain silence. Move!”
They fell in around the dictator who set off at a brisk pace behind one hundred and twenty of his men.
Commander Lucius Burrus stopped his men at the corner of the street. He peered around the wall. The lighthouse was five hundred paces ahead. A walled road led to it, a straight road. Lucius bit his bottom lip. He could see the square building at the base of the lighthouse. The large wooden doors were closed. Two sentries with javelins stood guard. As Lucius watched four other guards marched past, then rounded the corner and disappeared down the side of the building. His eyes travelled up the twenty feet high crenelated walls. He could see the tips of more javelins there. The lighthouse itself rose up from this point, towering above the harbour.
There was no cover. Nothing on the road. His men wouldn’t even make it a quarter of the way before they were seen. Caesar had archers with him, but at this distance, with this wind, Lucius knew they couldn’t risk it.
On one side of the walls running along the road was the harbour, twenty feet down. The wall sloped outwards near the water. On the other side was open sea.
Lucius knew there was nothing else for it. He would have to send swimmers along the walls and then scale near the lighthouse and kill quickly. He gave instructions and six men, three on each side, removed their tunics, tied knives to the insides of their forearms, and dashed off for the water on one side of the road and the sea on the other. The rest of Lucius’ men moved into the shadows and waited.