Caecilius swallowed painfully as the little craft began to rock in the swell from the galley. As it closed on them, he could see the huge oars that dipped into the water and hear the muffled thumping of a drum somewhere close. The galley was going to smash them into splinters, he was sure of it. It seemed to be heading right at them and he knew he did not have the courage to sit and let the keel slice through the boat, taking him down along the slick green spine to be thrown out nicely bloody for the sharks. He began to stand in panic and the oarsman gripped his arm with the casual strength of his profession. A brief, silent struggle ensued before Caecilius subsided. The galley was a towering black mountain over them and he could see the dim light of lanterns on the deck above.

His companions lowered their blades into the water with infinite care, using the noise of the galley’s passage to hide their own. With a few strong pulls, they were out of range of the crushing keel and Caecilius swore the galley oars had passed over his head on the upsweep. It was a moment of pure terror to imagine them coming down on the boat, but the oarsmen knew their business and the galley moved on without an alarm being sounded.

Caecilius realized he had been holding his breath and panted in the bow as the two men resumed their steady stroke without a word. He could imagine their scornful glances and once again went through his lists to calm himself.

It seemed forever before they brought in the oars once again and one of the men leapt out into the surf to hold the bobbing craft steady. Caecilius looked down at the black water and clambered out with enormous care, causing the man in the water to swear softly with impatience.

Finally, he was clear of the boat, with gentle waves up to his waist and cold sand pressing between his unseen toes.

“Good luck,” one of the men whispered, giving him a gentle push to start him on his way.

Caecilius turned and his companions seemed already to have vanished. For an instant, he thought he heard the sound of their oars and then they were gone and he was alone.

Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

Pompey enjoyed the warmth of the sun on his armor as he waited, his horse whinnying softly to itself. The parade ground at Dyrrhachium had been built after his arrival in Greece and the walls and buildings enclosed a vast yard of hard red clay. The breeze lifted bloody swirls of the dust and overhead, seabirds called mournfully to each other. Three shining legions stood to attention in his honor, their ranks stretching into the distance. Pompey had completed his inspection and wished Caesar could see the quality of the men who would end his pretension to rule Rome.