The Seven Hills(104)

Inshore, the enemy was wasting no time. From the moment the Roman fleet heaved in sight, battle preparations commenced. Even with the before-action tension twisting his stomach, Arrunteius found himself admiring the efficiency with which his opposite number was coping with the unexpected danger. Ships in the water were prepared for battle with amazing speed. Masts were lowered, sails and yards stowed away or merely pitched overboard to clear the decks. All inessential gear was disposed of in this manner. Even slaves working on the ships were thrown into the water to swim or drown.

Ships that had been drawn up on shore were dragged into the water, their crews scrambling aboard, running out oars before the hulls were fully afloat. Transports and cargo vessels were pulled close inshore, leaving the war fleet as much maneuvering room as possible. All, clearly, was according to a long-established naval practice.

In an amazingly short time the Carthaginian fleet was in the water, in battle order and heading for the Roman line, before the Romans had even completed their encircling sweep to shut off the harbor. The first elements were heading straight for the Roman center. Straight for Avenging Mars.

The first Carthaginian trireme seemed on top of him more quickly than Arrunteius could have imagined. He felt cooler now, because his task as admiral was substantially done. Now the battle devolved upon the individual ships' captains and their crews. The ship bearing down upon him was like something out of Hades: a lean, low dragon shape from which trails of smoke arched toward him—fire arrows, he realized. Above the ship's fanged ram squatted the hideous little god Patechus, the Punic terror demon. The archers around Arrunteius on the castle began to send shafts toward the enemy, and from the deck below him came the thudding of the ballistae as they fired their heavy iron javelins.

The enemy ship swerved to one side, an old naval maneuver intended to send the galley plowing through the oars on one side of Arrunteius's ship, their flailing handles reducing the rowers inside to dog meat, crippling his ship so that the Carthaginian could ram at leisure. But his sailing master turned into the other's bow, an unexpected maneuver devised to take advantage of the Roman galley's greater mass.

Going ram-to-ram was the one thing the Carthaginians were not prepared for. The bronze-sheathed ram of Avenging Mars struck just below and to one side of the crouching god, crunching through the wood with the awful momentum of both ships. Seconds before the impact, the Roman rowers drew in their oars. Arrunteius grabbed the railing before him as his ship lurched, then rose. Amazed, he realized that his own vessel was riding up over the keel of the lighter craft, splitting its deck like a huge saw splitting a plank. Boards and timbers flew; splinters showered the men on the tower as the heavy Roman galley plowed through the Carthaginian. Below, men screamed, flailed, dived into the water or were pulped.

Arrunteius saw one side of the enemy ship open up and the oar benches, along with the rowers, topple into the sea. Armored men waved their weapons in perfect futility as their ship broke up beneath them. A man he took to be the captain stood for a moment beside the steering oar, his face a mask of incomprehension. Then the stern was swamped and the whole ship, now in many pieces, settled into the water.

Arrunteius stood, astounded. In moments, a magnificent ship was reduced to bits of floating debris. And he had done it! He, Decimus Arrunteius, in his invincible ship! He waved his fists aloft. "Mars is victorious!" he shouted. All over the ship, men regained use of their tongues and took up the cry. "Mars is victorious! Mars is victorious!"

Now he remembered that he was an admiral and there was still a battle to win. He looked around him and saw a score of ship fights in progress. Some ships were locked together by the corvi, soldiers swarming across to fight hand-to-hand. Others lay grappled, and men scrambled over the rails. He could see the results of other rammings, some of them with the same devastating result his own had accomplished. Here and there, Carthaginians had managed to ram Roman vessels, and some of these were sinking, though the heavier timbers of the Roman ships usually gave their men time to board the enemy. Roman boarding inevitably led to the Carthaginians' capture, for the mercenaries manning their decks were no match for Roman swordsmen, even those who had been mere Italian villagers or bandits the year before. Their gladii quickly turned the enemy deck to a bloody shambles.

"How are our oarsmen?" Arrunteius demanded. "Can we maneuver?"

"Haven't lost many," the sailing master answered. "They shipped oars in time."

"Then find us another to ram!" He looked around, and saw a Carthaginian galley backing away from the hole it had punched in the side of a Roman vessel. Arrunteius pointed toward it. "That one!"