Cato grasped the rail of the turret and braced his feet on the deck. All around him the other members of the crew hurriedly prepared for the impact. There was a last flurry of arrows from the enemy ship and a cry of pain as a barbed point tore through the neck of one of the archers standing in the turret. Cato spared the man a quick glance and saw him crumple on to the floor of the turret, blood gushing from a severed artery. There was nothing that could be done for him and Cato looked forward again.

‘Ship oars!’ Phermon bellowed and there was a frantic clatter and rumble as the crew fed them back into the hull.

The flared tip of the ram caught the enemy ship on the bow and there was a jarring crash as men stumbled forward. Both rams had struck glancing blows and now the ships began to pass alongside each other. The enemy commander had failed to give the order to ship oars and with a series of sharp shattering sounds the oars on the starboard side were smashed to splinters as the Sobek’s bow ground along the length of the enemy ship.

‘Lower the corvus!’ Cato shouted down to the decurion of marines. ‘Quickly, man!’

The marines hurriedly recovered their balance and began to swing the boarding device out and over the enemy deck. The archers in the bow were directed towards the danger by their commander and they hurriedly loosed off their arrows at the marines. Unable to defend themselves while they manoeuvred the corvus into position, they were vulnerable to enemy missiles and two were struck down in quick succession as the arrows whirred across the deck. A moment later Cato saw another man cry out as his arm was pierced through.

‘Release!’ the decurion yelled as soon as the iron point was over the enemy’s deck. His men let go of the rope and it shot up towards the pulley as the gangway arced down. The renegades dived aside to avoid being crushed, or impaled, and with a deep thud the spike pierced the deck. There was a jolt and a groan as the stout wooden peg at the base of the corvus took the strain from the remaining momentum of both ships.

‘Boarding party away!’ the decurion called out as he drew his sword and scurried across the gangway towards the enemy deck. His men rushed after him, shields raised and swords drawn and ready. The enemy archers loosed more arrows, most of which struck the wooden hoardings that protected the men as they crossed from the Sobek. A few arrows overshot, and missed the ship and crew entirely.

Cato turned to the archers in the turret and pointed out their opposite numbers. ‘Shoot those men down!’