He nodded to the two of them amiably as he walked the long deck, making his morning inspection. He checked every rope that ran to the flapping square sail above them and went down on one knee to make sure the deck catapults were solidly bound and unmoving. Only after the careful inspection was finished did he approach the young officers, returning their salutes without ceremony. He scanned the horizon and smiled to himself, rubbing his freshly shaved chin in satisfaction.

“Four . . . no, five sails,” he said cheerfully. “The trade of nations. Not much of a wind to stir those who rely on it alone, though.”

Over the months, Julius had come to realize that the genial outlook hid a mind that knew everything that went on in Accipiter, above and below decks, and his advice was usually valuable after you had waited through the casual openings. Suetonius thought he was a fool but appeared to be listening with avid interest, a manner he adopted for all the senior officers.

Prax continued, nodding to himself, “We’ll need the oars to get to Thapsus, but it’s a clear run up the coast then. After dropping off the pay-chests, we should make Sicily in a few weeks if we don’t have to chase the raiders off our waters in the meantime. A beautiful place, Sicily.”

Julius nodded, comfortable with Prax in a way that would have been impossible with the captain, despite the moment of familiarity after Mytilene. Prax had not been present at the storming of the fort, but he seemed not to have minded. Julius supposed he was happy enough with the light duties on Accipiter as he waited to retire and be dropped off at a legion near Rome to collect his outstanding pay. That was one benefit of hunting pirates with Gaditicus. The seventy-five denarii the legionaries were paid each month mounted up without much opportunity to spend it. Even after expenses for equipment and the tithe to the widows and burials fund, there would be a tidy sum available for most men when their time was up. If they hadn’t gambled it all away by then, of course.

“Sir, why do we use ships that can’t catch the enemy? We could clear out the Mare Internum in less than a year if we forced them to close with us.”

Prax smiled, seemingly delighted by the question. “Close with us? Oh, it happens, but they’re better seamen than we are, you know. There’s every chance they’ll ram and sink us before we can send our men over. Of course, if we can get the legionaries on their decks, the fight is won.”

He blew air out slowly through puffed cheeks as he tried to explain. “It’s more than just lighter, faster ships we need—though Rome won’t be sending funds to lay keels for them in my lifetime—it’s a professional crew to man the oars. Those three vertical banks they use so precisely, can you imagine what our muscular slaves would do with them? They’d be a splintered mess the first time we tried to hit our best speed. With our way, we don’t need to train experts, and from the point of view of the Senate we don’t need to pay salaries to them either. One sum to buy the slaves, and the ship practically runs herself thereafter. And we do sink a few of them, though there always seem to be more.”