LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

He had never fought a man of such ability, and he rolled his shoulder instinctively against the sharp pain of a heavy bruise on his upper arm. Throughout the rest of the day he waited for the slave to return from the decks below so he could discuss the fight and the incredible sequence of strikes that seemed so effortless. He waited in vain, for neither Khalil nor the consul re-emerged.

      Atticus could scarcely believe the sight before him. Everywhere he looked the sea was filled with all manner of ships, from the smallest skiffs, through merchant galleys, to the massive transport barges of the grain trade. Atticus felt an overwhelming sense of movement, of constant frenzied activity as ships travelled in all directions, their courses crisscrossing each other, with some setting sail for distant ports while others were reaching their journey’s end here, in Ostia, the port town of the city of Rome.

      The Aquila had sighted land at dusk the evening before and had turned its bow northwest along the ragged coastline of the Italian peninsula. During the night they had passed Naples on their right, its lights scattered over the shoreline of the crescent bay and on into the hills beyond, the individual lights in the dark a mirror of the heavens above. The offshore breeze blowing from the city had filled the air with the smell of wood smoke from countless cooking fires, and underneath the musky scent of humanity from the tightly packed confines of the hidden city.

      After the multitudinous lights of the city, only solitary pockets of light around small fishing villages remained. The mainland became dark once more, its existence off the starboard rail of the galley marked by a brooding presence that all aboard could feel, an unnamable sensation that constantly drew the eyes of those on board towards the shadowy features of Italia.

      As the night wore on, the Aquila found company in the water from other vessels travelling the same route to Rome, the number increasing until finally at dawn, with the galley still some ten miles from Ostia, the brightening vista exposed a multitude of craft in the surrounding sea, a host that was compressed in the mouth of the harbour where the Aquila now lay.

      The smaller craft in the water gave way to the galley, her bronze ram a deterrent that forged a path through the throng of lesser vessels. Further in, Gaius wove the galley around the larger transport barges, the Aquila, a more nimble ship under oar, giving way to the less manoeuvrable sailing ships in the time-honoured courtesy observed by all capable sailors.

      Ostia, at the mouth of the river Tiber, had been founded by Ancus Marcius, the fourth king of Rome, over three hundred years before, and its growth and prosperity was intimately tied to Rome, a symbiotic relationship that had seen the once-small fishing village become the trade gateway to the greatest city in the world. Now the Aquila carried one of the most valuable cargos that had ever entered the port, a vital message to the Senate borne by the leader of Rome itself, a message that held the fate of the forty thousand fighting men of the legions on Sicily.

      Lucius stood on the aft-deck beside the helmsman setting his course into the harbour. Years before, as a boatswain, the second-in-command had been stationed in the waters surrounding this port, and he intimately knew its harbour and the layout of the docks. He was guiding the galley to the castrum, the military camp that also served as the docking port for the Roman military galleys that patrolled the nearby sea-lanes.

      Atticus stood beside the two men, listening as Lucius pointed out the swarm of nationalities represented by the trading vessels surrounding the galley. The ships had come from the four corners of the Mediterranean, from Gaul and Iberia, from Illyricum on the shores of the Mare Superum across from the eastern shores of the Italian peninsula, and from Greece and Egyptus. These were the places that Atticus had dreamed of visiting when he was a boy, and now the very proximity of the people of these lands filled his imagination with wonder. As his eyes swept back and forward, from port to starboard, he suddenly noticed the consul approaching him across the aft-deck.

      ‘Captain Perennis,’ Scipio began, his expression cold, ‘once we dock, you and Centurion Capito will accompany me to the city. You will stay there until I personally give you leave to depart.’

      ‘Yes, Consul,’ Atticus replied, wondering why their presence was so necessary, knowing that he dare not ask the consul.

      Scipio turned on his heel and proceeded to the main deck, where his guard and personal slave were waiting.

      Septimus mounted the aft-deck from the other side and walked over to Atticus.

      ‘You’ve heard then,’ he said, indicating the consul’s departure with a nod of his head.

      ‘Yes, I have,’ Atticus replied, his mind still pondering the reason.

      ‘Why do you think he wants us in the city, Septimus?’

      ‘I’m not sure, Atticus. But this is certain. We’re now firmly in his grasp. You heard his order: we can’t leave until he personally gives us the order.’

      ‘I noticed that,’ Atticus said, realizing that the simple request to accompany the consul was in reality anything but simple. Atticus had only known the senior consul for three days and yet he already knew for certain that Scipio never took a step without knowing its consequences three steps down the line.

      ‘Never mind,’ Septimus said suddenly with a smile, picking up on Atticus’s preoccupation. ‘Now I’m guaranteed the opportunity to show you the sights of Rome.’

      Atticus shrugged off his sense of unease and smiled, slapping Septimus on the shoulder.

      ‘You’d better be right about Rome,’ he said. ‘I’ve waited too long to see this city to be disappointed.’

      ‘Disappointed?’ Septimus said with false amazement. ‘Atticus, my friend, by the time we’re finished you’ll bless the day you met the consul.’

      Atticus laughed at the centurion’s infectious anticipation. He had a feeling that the vision he had in his head of the city, a vision of magnificent temples and grand piazzas, was very different from the city that Septimus would show him.

      The castrum was located at the extreme northern end of the busy harbour. It was home to the largest single detachment of Roman military vessels, six out of the entire fleet of twelve galleys of the Republic. These six ships constantly patrolled the sea-lanes surrounding Rome, ensuring an uninterrupted flow of trade that was so necessary for the city’s growth. More importantly they provided escorts for the large grain transports, as the enormous barges ferried the vital lifeblood of Rome from Campania, over two days’ sailing to the southeast.

      As the Aquila approached, Atticus could see that all but two of Ostia’s galleys were at sea; the remaining triremes, the Libertas and the Tigris, were tied up neatly against the dock. The Aquila slowed under the expert hand of Gaius, and lines were thrown from fore and aft to the waiting slaves on land, who quickly tethered the ropes to the dock posts. The order was given to withdraw all oars, both port and starboard, and the sailors on deck began to haul in the ropes, hand over hand, until the Aquila moored precisely parallel to the dock. The gangway was lowered and Scipio and his retinue immediately disembarked, closely followed by Atticus and Septimus. The sight of the praetoriani arrested the movement of everyone on the dock, and they backed off to leave a path clear from the Aquila to the barracks, unsure of the unexpected visit of a senior member of the Senate aboard a never-before-seen Roman trireme that was not of the Ostia fleet.

      As the group approached the two-storey barracks, the port commander emerged from the entrance archway leading to the courtyard within. He was followed by a contubernia of ten soldiers, and his determined stride to investigate the unannounced arrival of a galley at his port mirrored the approach of Scipio, whose equally confident pace closed the gap between the two groups in seconds. Scipio noticed that the port commander’s pace lessened slightly as he tried to recognize the figure coming towards him, the consul’s importance obvious from the black-cloaked guard that attended him. The commander called a halt to his contubernia ten paces short and ordered his men to stand to attention, knowing that, whoever it was, the man approaching at the head of a detachment of praetoriani outranked him. Scipio raised his hand in the air two paces short of the commander,

Скачать книгу