The centurion shook his head slightly, looking at Julius. “Not this one. I want to stay with the men in case something goes wrong.”

“I’ll join you,” Suetonius said suddenly.

Prax raised his eyebrows, then shrugged.

“If there’s no one else,” Suetonius continued, trying not to seem too eager. It would give him the chance he needed away from the others. Prax nodded reluctantly at him and Suetonius sat back, relaxing.

“I saw you watching the ships as we came in,” Gaditicus prompted Julius. The younger man leaned closer and they all brought their heads forward to hear his words.

“There was one loading supplies,” he muttered. “The Ventulus. Trireme and sail. A small crew we can take over without too much trouble.”

“You realize,” Suetonius said, “that if we steal a ship from a Roman port, that makes us pirates as well?” Even as he spoke, he realized it was a mistake to warn them, but part of him couldn’t resist the little barb. They would remember later and know who had saved them from Julius’s wild schemes. The others froze slightly as they considered the words, and Julius glared at the young watch officer.

“Only if we’re seen. If it matters to you, then pay the captain for his losses out of your share,” he said.

Gaditicus frowned. “No. He’s right. I want it understood that none of the crew will be killed and the cargo will be left untouched. If we are successful, the captain must be paid for his time and lost profits.”

He locked eyes with Julius and the rest of them could feel the tension between the two men making the silence uncomfortable. The issue of who commanded them had been ignored for so long that they had almost forgotten it, but it was still there and Gaditicus had ruled Accipiter with discipline once. Suetonius fought not to grin at the silent struggle he’d brought about.

At last, Julius nodded and the tension vanished.

“Right,” he said. “But one way or another, I want control of that ship by nightfall.”

A new voice spoke suddenly over them, making them all lean back.

“Who is the commanding officer here?” it said, unconsciously echoing much of their private thoughts. Julius examined his wine cup.

“I was the captain of Accipiter,” Gaditicus said in reply, standing up to greet the newcomer. The man was a reminder of Rome even more than the legionaries that guarded the port. He wore a draped toga over bare skin, held by a silver brooch with an eagle etched in the metal. His hair was cut short and the hand he offered Gaditicus had a heavy gold ring on the fourth finger.

“You look healthier than most of the ransom men we get in this port. My name is Pravitas, the quaestor here. I see your cups are empty and I’m dry myself.”