The German steerman and the pair of men with him in the stern were darker and more squat that the general run of the pirates – Herulians among Goths. None of the three were armed at the moment, though their spears and shields were laid against the low gunwale beside them.
The man at the oar snouted. His two companions tugged at the windlass that raised and lowered their own sail.
Perennius sighted over the mass of Germans now almost below him. He shot the steersman in the chest.
The Herulian straightened with a cry. He fell forward, across one of the men who had just unblocked the windlass. The yard clattered down in a rush. The belly of the sail flapped, then crumpled flaccidly, as the wind had its will. The pirates had been making only a knot or two into the wind. Their mass and headway were too slight to keep their bow from swinging slightly as the wind took them aback. The closing impact was therefore the two knots driven by the Eagle’s sail alone. It was still awesome.
The liburnian displaced some eighty tons; the pirate vessel perhaps half that. The crews alone massed ten tons apiece. All of that kinetic energy had to be absorbed by the hulls as the ships ground together, starboard to starboard. In the Eagle’s rowing chamber, that meant death and maiming despite the best efforts of the coxswain and his assistant.
The oars could not be fully withdrawn, but with care all but the blade-tips could have been sheltered within the hull and outrigger. There had not been time for care. Now the pirates’ cutwater slammed along the side of the liburnian, catching every oar that still projected. The oar-looms turned into flails within the rowing chamber. The ashen oars broke, but more limbs and bodies broke also. Men on deck heard a screaming like that of pigs in an abattoir. Twelve feet of oar-shaft flipped up, dislodging a ventilator grate.
It was small consolation to the victims that something similar was happening to the pirates.
The skill of the Herulian seamen was no more in doubt than was the courage of the Gothic berserkers pressing forward in the bow. The Eagle was probably the first oared warship the pirates had tackled, however, and that led to a misjudgment. No one on the pirate ship was prepared to see the oar-blades rise into a chest-high obstruction as the ships swept together. Men waiting to board either ducked or were struck down by blades and shafts splintered on the cutwater. Leonidas’ exercise had been a protective one, intended to save his oars and rowers. Because the liburnian had twice the pirate vessel’s height above the water, the half-effective defensive move proved to be a shattering offensive weapon.
Alone, it was not enough. A German with naked, tattooed limbs hurled the first grappling iron aboard even as an oar struck him down. There were three more irons clawing the Eagle’s foredeck and outrigger before the ships ground to a complete halt. Marines staggered as their deck lurched and the liburnian’s sail thrust against the combined mass. Howling with glee, pirates began scrambling over writhing comrades and up the oars.
“Let’s get the bastards!” Gaius shouted. He drew his long cavalry sword with a flourish. The young Illyrian leaped down from the tower. His waist-length dress cloak flared behind him like a crimson membrane. To Perennius’ utter amazement, the two seamen snatched up ballista bolts and followed Gaius to the deck. If they had stayed where they were and thrown the bolts, they might have been of use. Charismatic leadership did not seem to confer tactical skills when it suppressed the instincts of naked men to run from armored attackers.
Well, Aulus Perennius might not be able to get a sailor to follow him into a whorehouse, much less a battle, but he didn’t need anyone to teach him his present business either.
More than half the Marines surged forward to meet the Germans. Only one of the scratch force turned and jumped down the forehatch. It was a better percentage than the agent would have guessed. He had no time for the melee, because the Herulians in the stern had noticed the smoke puffing from the ends of their loose-folded sail.