The Blood of Gods A Novel of Rome - By Conn Iggulden Page 0,105

The rowers backed oars, bringing the galley into range of the one pursuing it. Maecenas and Virgil both turned in time to see three ropes and grapnels soar out from the deck, right over the other galley, so that they stuck fast and held. Teams of legionaries took hold of spars on a capstan, reeling the ropes back like a fishing line as they shoved against footholds on the wooden deck.

‘Now you will see,’ Agrippa said.

The ropes had caught the opposing galley at an odd angle. As they grew taut, the opposing crew rushed over to the side where they expected the attack. It unbalanced their ship, which tipped suddenly and violently so that the deck became a slope. More men slid to the lower side, yelling in panic. The oars on one side raised out of the water and on the other the rowers thrashed in panic as the lake came pouring in. Before Agrippa could roar another order, the galley turned right over with a huge crash of water, revealing the shining curve of its hull.

Maecenas swallowed nervously, knowing he had just witnessed the drowning of two hundred men or more. Even those few who could swim would be hard-pressed to escape as the cold waters poured in. Down on the lake, the first galley crew sat still and stunned at what they had done.

He looked at Agrippa and saw his friend caught between horror and delight.

‘By the gods, I thought …’ He shouted for the galley crew to seek out anyone in the water and wiped sweat from his face.

‘Did you know that was going to happen?’ Virgil asked, his eyes wide in shock.

Agrippa shook his head. ‘No,’ he said grimly. ‘But this was never a game. I will use anything, take any advantage I can get.’

On the lake, the galley was surrounded by hissing bubbles and they could hear the faint cries of drowning men, still trapped with dwindling air in the rowing deck. Against the odds, some of those inside had struggled out. They bobbed up to the surface, thrashing and yelling, trying desperately to stay afloat long enough to be rescued.

‘I need another twenty million sesterces to build the canal to the sea,’ Agrippa said. ‘I will get Caesar the galleys he needs and I will destroy Sextus Pompey, whatever it costs.’

‘I’ll see it reaches you,’ Maecenas said, his usual cheer absent as he watched men drown.

Octavian raised his hand and the other bids stopped instantly.

‘Four million sesterces,’ he said.

The auctioneer nodded and put aside the sealed ownership papers for him to pick up after the sale was finished. No other bidder would risk the displeasure of a consul and triumvir, though the Suetonius estate was a good one, with river access and a fine house on a hill near to Rome. It adjoined another property Octavian had inherited from Caesar and he could not pass up the chance to increase his holdings. Still, it felt a little odd to bid on properties he had caused to come onto the market. Ten per cent of the final price went to whichever citizen had handed over the proscribed owner and there had been appalling scenes since the lists were published, with mobs breaking down the doors of named men and dragging them out into the street. On more than one occasion, only the head of the man had been used to claim the reward.

The Suetonius estate was unfortunately not one of those. The senator had vanished immediately after the consular elections and Octavian had every spy and client in his employ searching for news of him, as well as the other Liberatores still alive. In his absence, the Suetonius estate had been confiscated and the bulk of the proceeds would go to training and preparing new legions.

‘The next lot is a country villa by Neapolis, originally owned by Publius Casca.’

Octavian knew that name, one of two brothers who had managed to elude those hunting them. He had heard a rumour that the Cascas had thrown themselves on the dubious mercy of Sextus Pompey, but he could not be certain. He had no desire to bid on their property at that time, but he waited even so, to see how much silver would be coming into the war coffers.

The bidding began weakly as wealthy men in the room tried to guess whether the consul and triumvir would take it from them at the last moment. Octavian felt their eyes on him and shook his head, turning