But even John, it seemed, was satisfied at the destruction which his flotilla had inflicted on the Malwa vessels anchored in the harbor. His cannonade, combined with the guns of the Ethiopians, had pounded much of the shipping into mastless and unmaneuverable wrecks. True, he hadn’t been able to strike very hard at the war galleys moored to the piers. The merchant vessels—just as the Malwa no doubt intended—had served as a protective screen.
The issue was moot. John had no doubt at all that every seaman on those merchant ships had long since abandoned their vessels and fled to the safety of the shore on whatever lifeboats had been available. There would be no one left to prevent—
“That’s the first one,” said Eusebius with satisfaction.
John looked to the north. The Axumites had lit the first of the fireships and were pushing it off. Within seconds, John could see the other three fireships burst into sudden flames.
He moved his cold eyes back to the harbor. “That’s so much kindling, now,” he grunted with satisfaction. With the prevailing winds as they were, the fireships would inexorably drift into the tangled mass of battered merchant shipping. Given the speed with which fire spread across wooden ships, all of the vessels in Barbaricum’s harbor would be destroyed soon enough.
“Time to go,” he stated. He turned and issued the orders to the sailing master.
No sooner was he done than a huge roar filled the harbor. The ramparts of the city were suddenly illuminated by their own cannon fire. The huge siege guns had finally gone into action.
Eusebius flinched, a little, under the sound. John grinned like a wolf.
“Relax, boy. A first salvo—fired in the darkness? They’ll be lucky if they even manage to hit the ocean.”
Realizing the truth of the Rhodian’s words, Eusebius relaxed. His shoulders, tense from the past minutes of action, began to slump.
A moment later, not knowing how he got there, Eusebius was lying on the deck of the ship. The entire vessel was rolling, as if it had collided with something.
There are no reefs in this harbor, he thought dazedly. Every shipmaster we talked to swore as much.
The area of the ship where he had been standing was half-illuminated by the flames of the fireships drifting into Barbaricum’s harbor. Eusebius could see that a section of the rail had vanished, along with a piece of the deck itself. In front of him, lying on the shattered wooden planks, was an object which Eusebius thought he recognized. By the time he crawled over and picked it up, the helmsman was shouting at him.
Still half-dazed, Eusebius realized the man was demanding instructions. The sailing master had apparently also vanished.
There was no need, really, for the steersman to be given orders. Their course was obvious enough, after all. Get the hell out of here. The steersman was simply seeking reassurance that leadership still existed.
Shakily, Eusebius rose to his feet and shouted something back at the steersman. Anything. He didn’t even think of the words themselves. He simply imitated, as best he could, the assured authority with which John of Rhodes issued all his commands.
Apparently the tone was enough. Broken planks falling into the sea from the splintered deck and rail, the ship sailed out of Barbaricum’s harbor. On what remained of that portion of the deck, Eusebius studied the object in his hands, as if it were a talisman.
* * *
An hour later, the barge on which Valentinian and his expedition was making its way up the Indus was part of a small fleet of river craft, all of them fleeing from the battle at Barbaricum.
“Worked like a charm,” grunted Kujulo. The Kushan gazed at the small horde of vessels with satisfaction. The vessels were easy to spot, fortunately. All of them—just as was true of their own barge—had a lookout in the bow holding a lamp aloft. For all the urgency with which the river craft were making their escape from the holocaust in Barbaricum, the oarsmen were maintaining a slow and steady stroke. Except for the meager illumination thrown out by the lamps, the night was pitch dark. No merchant—and these were all merchant vessels—wanted to escape ruin in a besieged harbor only to find it by running his ship aground.