Because Perennius was behind the ballista, its bolt had little apparent motion to him. The missile lifted. It was a glitter against the pirates’ sail and a black dot in the sky as it rose above the target. At the peak of its arc, the bolt blurred in a furious yaw, caused probably by the tail of linen tied to its shaft. A dot again after its momentary instability, the missile plunged. For a moment, the guttural bellowing from the pirate craft dissolved into less threatening sounds. A cheer broke out on the Eagle’s deck.
A German had raised his shield to receive the missile. His face was a sunburned blur amid flowing blond beard and hair. The press of his fellows in the bow might have prevented him from ducking away even if he had been willing to show fear. The five-pound bolt, rather a short javelin than an arrow in weight, snapped through the wicker shield and the man who bore it before it crunched into the pelvis of a pirate in the second rank. The men crashed backwards, pinned together in a tangle of limbs flailing spasmodically like those of a spider on a knife point.
Perennius did not cheer with the others. The rag had been stripped on impact and lay as a black smear on the face of the wicker shield. That was not serious. Luck might send a later bolt into the more flammable target. But the agent had seen that the snap of the ballista’s acceleration had snuffed the flame out even as the bolt sailed from its trough.
Gaius hooted with glee as he tied more linen around the shaft of the next missile. The fact of the whole plan’s failure had been lost in the young man’s delight at killing two of the enemy. “Half-cock on the next one, Gaius,” the agent ordered as he opened his own pouch. “Don’t draw the string all the way.”
“Blazes, Aulus!” the courier cried. His normal deference to his protector was lost in the present rush of hormones. “It won’t get there if we don’t cock it!”
“God strike you for a fool!” Perennius roared back. “It doesn’t matter if it gets there if the bloody fire goes out in the air!”
Shocked back into the agent’s reality, Gaius spun and passed the order to the seamen on the windlass.
The captain’s strategy of getting past with both pirate vessels on the port side had clearly failed. The nearer of the pirates, now closing on the liburnian with a rush, had already worked to starboard. The Eagle was in theory caught between her opponents. In fact, however, the separation between one German vessel and the other had increased as they raced for their prey. The further pirate had not worked to windward with anything like the finesse of her consort. She was now the better part of a mile distant. That at least permitted the Eagle to engage the nearer opponent alone; though Perennius was under no illusions as to his ability to beat off a hundred heavily-armed Germans with the force at his disposal.
Now that the direction of the attack was more or less certain, Sestius led his half-section forward to join Longidienus and the other Marines. Perennius noticed two seamen wearing loin clouts and carrying pikes had joined the Marines. Most of the deck crew had disappeared below. Leonidas held his post in the stern. The captain had belted on a sword. A pair of his men still gripped the tiller behind them. The Eagle was as ready as she would ever be.
There was one more datum on the credit side. No short, cowled figure had appeared among the barbarians screaming on the pirates’ deck. For now, the Eagle had only men to deal with. Bad as that might be, Perennius found it at least better than the alternative.
“Had a pair of these, mule-drawn, in our troop,” said Gaius to the stock of the ballista as he crouched behind it. “Used them at Arlate, though we didn’t engage ourselves. …” Perennius had not wondered at or even given thanks for his protege’s unexpected competence with the crew-served weapon. Time enough for that if they got out of what was coming.