The Blood of Gods A Novel of Rome - By Conn Iggulden Page 0,119

me. I need to be sharp now we’re out.’

‘You should have been a Spartan, Agrippa,’ Maecenas said. ‘I find good red wine merely relaxes me.’ He poured a cup, cursing softly as some of it spilled onto the deck. ‘That’s for good luck, I suppose,’ he said, drinking. ‘You should get some sleep, if sharpness is important. At least the sea is calm tonight. I’d rather not face a watery grave while heaving my guts out over the railing.’

Agrippa did not reply, his thoughts on the galleys all around him. Maecenas did not seem to understand how much of the venture rested on him. Every modification he had made, every new tactic, was his. If it failed, he would have wasted half a year of hard work and a fortune that beggared belief – as well as his own life. His ships were well enough hidden in the night, but the dawn would reveal them to hostile eyes. He did not know whether to dread or welcome the moment they caught sight of the first hostile galley surging towards them.

Vedius was shaken from sleep by Menas, his second in command. He came awake with a grunt, trying to roll over on his bunk and flailing at the man’s hand on his shoulder.

‘What is it?’ he said blearily.

He’d spent so long sleeping on deck that the tiny cabin reserved for a captain seemed an incredible luxury. The mattress may have been lumpy and thin, but it was much better than stretching out under a tarpaulin in the wind and rain.

‘Signal light, sir,’ Menas said, still shaking him.

The man was a legion officer and Vedius sensed scorn behind his carefully neutral manner. Yet he was at Vedius’ command, for all his pretensions and legion honour. Vedius slapped the hand away. He sat up fast and struck his head on a beam, cursing.

‘Right, I’m up,’ he said, rubbing his crown as he clambered out of the tiny alcove.

In the darkness he followed Menas, climbing a short ladder to the deck and the light of a dim lamp. Vedius stared into the distance to where his subordinate was pointing. Far off, on the peak of a mountain, Vedius saw a gleam. The system was that their watchers lit a bonfire at night when they saw anything moving at sea.

‘Someone’s making a night run,’ Vedius said with grim pleasure.

It had to be a valuable cargo if the captains and owners were willing to risk losing their ships on some unseen rock. He rubbed his callused hands together at the thought, making a whispering sound. Visions of gold or chests of legion silver filled his imagination, or better still, the young daughters of some fat senator. With Lavinia on board, Sextus held women only briefly for ransom, but he was not there. Vedius had been without female companionship for a long time and he grinned into the breeze. Willing or not, the whores of Sicily were nowhere near as exciting as the thought of a Roman virgin in his cabin for a few days.

‘Take us out, Menas. Let’s pluck a few fat Roman birds for the pot.’

Menas smiled uncomfortably. The coarse tavern fighter repelled him, but the Senate had given men like Vedius the fleet, the true eagle of Rome, and he could only obey and hide his disgust.

There was no need to be cautious, with the western coast sewn tight. Menas took hold of a horn on his belt and blew a long note across the waters. Eight galleys formed their small group and they were moving almost as soon as they heard the note, their captains ready as soon as the bonfire light had appeared on the peak. In turn, they blew their own horns, a droning chorus that would carry to the next cove and alert the crews there to follow them out.

Vedius felt the wind freshen against his face as the rowers below dipped their oars and the galley began to accelerate. There was nothing like the feeling of speed and power and he could only bless Sextus Pompey for introducing him to it. He rubbed his jaw, feeling an old ache. He owed Sextus everything since the young man had rescued him and given him a purpose when Vedius had been little better than a fighting drunk. He told himself Sextus would never have beaten him if he’d been sober, but the broken jaw had never healed right and Vedius had lived with pain ever since, every meal a misery as