The Seven Hills(105)

With the sailing master shouting down to the oar master and that officer barking the orders to his charges, Avenging Mars turned on its axis until its ram was pointed at the Carthaginian; then it surged forward, picking up speed as the hortator increased the tempo of his drumbeats. Arrunteius saw faces along the enemy rail turn, go pale. He saw fingers pointing and mouths forming shouts as they saw the doom bearing down upon them, but it was far too late.

The ram of Avenging Mars caught the Carthaginian galley amidships, where the timbers were thinnest and most stressed. This time the castle barely vibrated beneath Arrunteius's feet as the enemy ship broke in two, filled and sank so swiftly that it was like some sort of conjurer's trick. Again he raised the shout, "Mars is victorious!" The men aboard the rammed Roman ship cheered as loudly to see their vessel so quickly avenged, cheering as they scrambled to jam canvas and wood and dead bodies into the gaping hole in her side.

"Find me another!" Arrunteius cried, exulting. He knew now that his ship was invincible. Rome was invincible.

Within an hour, the battle was effectively over. The waiting biremes pounced on the few warships that managed to get through the Roman battle line, two or three biremes attacking each larger Carthaginian craft, ramming and then sending boarders across to butcher the defenders. Desperate crews beached their ships, threw away their arms and took to their heels, running for the interior. They would be desperate, hunted men, for if the Romans caught them they faced slavery, while Carthage would crucify them.

Avenging Mars rowed through the wreckage toward a wharf, and Arrunteius surveyed the scene with the greatest satisfaction. Here and there, hulks lay low in the water, smoke drifting from their timbers. Some ships were still sinking; others wallowed, abandoned, their crews all dead. The water was thick with blood, and sharks converged from, all quarters, tearing excitedly at this abundance of flesh. Arrunteius's officers were taking inventory of the captured supply ships and transports and were questioning surviving officers with great rigor.

The entire Carthaginian fleet was destroyed or captured. Arrunteius had lost seven triremes and a handful of biremes, but the crews, rowers and marines of these ships had mostly been saved. A few days of hard work would put his fleet back in order. He knew that the main Carthaginian fleet would be far larger and it would be a harder fight, but now his men had confidence in their admiral, in their ships and in themselves.

With his ship made fast to the wharf, Arrunteius went ashore and erected an altar, demolishing a Carthaginian altar to Baal-Hammon for the purpose. He sacrificed to Jupiter, to Mars and to Neptune in gratitude for his victory. He poured oil and wine over the altar, then the blood of the sacrificial animals; then he kindled a fire and burned the sacrifices, chanting the ancient prayers until all was thoroughly consumed. When the ritual obligations had been observed, he assembled his officers.

"I want the rams from all those Carthaginian ships," he ordered. "Send salvage divers down if you have to, but I must have every one of them. They will adorn the monument I will erect in the Forum when we return to Rome. I can't petition the Senate for a triumph—it's not allowed for a mere naval battle, especially since it hasn't concluded a successful war—but I will see to it that Rome never forgets what we did here this day. Our generals are taking back our empire from Carthage. But we are taking back our sea!"

His officers cheered lustily, and his marines and sailors took up the shout. He felt all his ancestors looking down upon him with approval. He had made the name of Arrunteius shine with glory. He. was the first duumvir of Rome's resurgence.




Mastanabal watched the approaching roman lines with wonder. What could they possibly intend? With no ladders and no towers or other machines, how did they expect to take his wall? And they were not concentrating on a single point, but advancing on a front as wide as the wall itself. Arrows began arching out from his fort, but at such range the Romans had plenty of time to see them coming and raise their shields. When the Romans were a hundred paces away, they stopped, the entire front freezing on the same step, as if the army were a single creature. The silence continued.

"Ah!" Mastanabal said. "They have made their show; now they will send out envoys to negotiate." But the Romans surprised him again.

Abruptly, all the trumpets blared, using a technique he had never heard before—a great, feral snarl that sent a bolt of cold fear up the spine. Then, in unison, the soldiers beat the inner sides of their shields with their spear butts, chanting something incomprehensible. At last, they raised spears and shields, shaking them and roaring as if to draw the attention of the infernal gods.