A cry from the lookout cut through her half-reverie. After a few seconds, Antonina saw the cause. The two Malwa galleys were emerging from the enemy convoy, bearing directly on the Ethiopians.
“They’re brave bastards,” she said, half-admiringly.
Wahsi glanced at her, then sneered. “Brave? No, Antonina. They’re just swaggering bullies, who’ve never faced Axumites at sea.”
The Dakuen commander’s gaze returned to the cannons. For just an instant, admiration was replaced by something which was almost resentment. Antonina choked down a laugh. Wahsi, she thought, was half-tempted to leave the cannons unused—just so he could prove to the Malwa how hopelessly outclassed they were.
But Wahsi was a veteran. Within seconds, he had apparently repressed the childish impulse. He turned to Ousanas and said: “I recommend that we simply blow them apart on our way into the convoy. But the decision is yours, aqabe tsentsen.”
The term “aqabe tsentsen” meant “keeper of the fly-whisks.” To Antonina’s Roman sensibilities, it was a peculiar title for a man who was second only to the negusa nagast in authority. But the fly-whisk, along with the spear, was the traditional emblem of Axumite royalty. Three days after his marriage, the King of Kings had bestowed the title on Ousanas. Other than the forces in Ethiopia itself, and the troops which Garmat commanded as the new viceroy of Arabia, Ousanas was now Axum’s top military officer as well as the king’s chief adviser.
Ousanas grinned. “Please, Wahsi! I am still the uncouth barbarian hunter of old. I know as much about sea battles as a hippopotamus knows of poetry.” He made a grand, sweeping gesture. “I leave everything in your capable hands.”
Wahsi grunted. “All that philosophy has not been wasted, after all.” A moment later, he was shouting orders at his crew.
The flagship continued on its northerly course, still under sail. The other Axumite warships followed the lead. Antonina was surprised. She had expected Wahsi to order the sails reefed, and to unlimber the oars. Like all such craft of the time, Ethiopian warships usually went into battle with oars rather than sails.
At first, she assumed that Wahsi had given the order because he was leery of his ships’ rowing capacity. One of the problems with fitting the ships with cannons was that a large section of the oarbanks was taken out of action. But then, as she saw the grim satisfaction on Wahsi’s face, she had to choke down a laugh.
Wahsi was too much of a veteran to indulge himself in the childish fancy of fighting without cannons. But she thought he had found a substitute. He would defeat his enemy without even bothering to use his oars—much as a boy boasts that he can whip another with one hand tied behind his back.
As the galleys neared, Antonina’s amusement faded. Apprehension came in its place. As superior as Ethiopian ships were, compared to Malwa vessels, there was still no way they could outmaneuver galleys while under sail.
She gave Ousanas a look of appeal. He simply grinned. So, reluctantly, she opened her mouth, preparing to urge caution on the headstrong Dakuen commander.
Whatever words she would have spoken were drowned by Wahsi’s sudden bellow. “Fall off the wind!”
Within moments, the ship turned to starboard and was running with the wind. Behind, one ship following the other, the fleet copied the maneuver.
Antonina held her breath. They were now driving across the oncoming Malwa galleys at what seemed a blinding speed. Collision was almost upon them—and the Malwa vessels, unlike their own, had cruel rams splitting the waves.
Only at the last instant did she realize the truth. The Malwa, oared, might be more maneuverable. But they were no faster, not with the Ethiopians sailing before the wind. The Axum warships would cross their enemies’ bows at point-blank range.
The Syrian gunners were excellent. And, if Antonina had not been able to bring the Theodora, she had been able to bring its gunnery officer. The best gunnery officer in the world.
Eusebius’ high-pitched screech rang out. The two five-inch guns on the port side roared, heeling the ship.
When the smoke cleared—
Two five-inch marble balls, fired at thirty-yards range, had split the galley’s bow wide open. Both rounds must have struck within inches of each other, right on the ship’s prow.