fought, sir. . . . But they’ve got the legs to overhaul us, the shape we’re in below decks. If they’re smart, and if they’re not too afraid of your ballista – ” a nod to Perennius – “they’ll lay along the starboard bow again, where there’s the most length of hull without the oars to fend them away.”
Oar blades curled into the water on either side. It was a ragged stroke with jolts like mallets knocking as shafts fouled one another, but it brought a cheer from the men on deck. Perennius could glimpse the second pirate ship now. It was nosing past the rising curve of the Eagle’s poop at a distance. The Germans were standing off wide to starboard instead of closing directly on the stern of their prey. Little more than half the liburnian’s oars were moving, given the damage to the oars and to the men who should have worked them. Besides that, the rowers must be exhausted from their earlier pull. Their second wind could not last long.
“I’d better go help Gaius with the ballista,” the agent said abruptly. “We were lucky once.” He turned.
“Wait,” said Calvus, touching Perennius’ arm. “Why don’t we ram them this time?” he went on. His dark eyes held the Tarantine’s.
Leonidas’ rage was predictable and this time uncontrolled. “Listen, fishbrain, I told you why we don’t ram! We – ” Calvus raised his index finger in query. The captain’s flowing recapitulation choked off, though Leonidas himself seemed puzzled at the fact.
“I understood what you said,” the tall man agreed. Leonidas’ eyes bulged. The agent watched Calvus with a care dictated by more than present words. “We will lose our mast and sail, and our own hull may very well be hopelessly damaged. While there were two pirate ships pursuing us, those were valid arguments against ramming. Are they now?”
“Dammit, I’m not going to sink my ship!” Leonidas shouted.
“Blazes!” Perennius shouted back, aware that they were drawing attention away from the pirates. “We’ll sink ourselves, when the bastards drop us overboard, won’t we? Do you think it’s a joke, that they sacrifice prisoners to their sea gods? Or do you think they’ll just turn us all loose when they’ve stripped the ship?”
The Tarantine’s face worked as if he were forced to chew tar. “Pollux,” he muttered, “but we can’t stand to be boarded again, I know that. …”
Calvus touched the captain’s wrist. “You don’t want to shatter a thing that is in your charge, a thing that’s important to you,” he said softly. “That’s good. But there are times that we have to sacrifice things of greatest personal importance for the good of the race.”
For the Empire, Perennius thought, though he was no longer certain that Calvus had the Empire in mind when he spoke. In any case, Leonidas licked at the blood on his lip and said, “All right, I’ll do what I can.” The captain smiled bitterly. “She’s not much, you know,” he said. “Wallows like a pig and maybe won’t give us the angle we need as quick as we’ll need it. But we’ll do what we can. Fortune bless us.”
This time Calvus did not intervene as Leonidas and the agent turned to their respective tasks.
“You didn’t know anything about ships when you came aboard, did you?” Perennius asked quietly as he strode forward beside the tall man. “You didn’t know a damned thing about fighting in that alley in Rome. Blazes, that’s why I wanted you shut in the cabin, so you wouldn’t get in the way. What’s going on?”
Calvus smiled again. “Logic is the same, Aulus Perennius,” he said, “whether the units are ships or game pieces. Or men, of course.” It was a moment before he went on. The timbre of his voice was no longer quite the same. “The other, I think, concerns me more than it does you. The woman, Sabellia, said ‘They’ll never hold. Come on, there’s spears at the mast,’ . . . and I followed her. That shouldn’t have happened. It wasn’t what I was raised for.” He looked down at the Illyrian. There was no frown on his calm face, but the agent was sure that the statement of concern was true.