where the flames were most fierce and hurled the jar. The heavy pottery exploded, wine splattered on the rough plaster and drenched the sleeping mat below. Snatching up a cloak from the table, Macro started beating out the flames.
He looked over his shoulder and saw Hamedes. ‘Give me a bloody hand!’
The priest hesitated for an instant, his eyes wide with fear, then he plucked a cloak from a peg on the wall beside him and joined Macro, smothering the remaining flames. When the last of the fire was stamped out, Macro nodded his thanks. He looked round the smoke-filled room. An acrid stench gripped his throat and he coughed. Throwing the cloak down, he stumbled to the stairs, pushing the priest ahead of him, and climbed up on to the roof. He crossed to the wooden rail and breathed deeply to clear his lungs. The dawn was coming up fast; a band of pale light thickened along the horizon. By its glow Macro could already see the full extent of the bay from the shadowy mangroves, across the water to the fort. Several figures had emerged from the gate and were looking directly towards the headland. More appeared on the walls of the fort and then there was a shrill blast of a horn.
‘Damn, they’ve seen the fire.’ Macro clenched the rail. A moment later, he watched a strong force of men emerge from the gate. They carried shields and a mix of weapons – swords, spears, axes and a handful of bows. Several of them carried torches that flared brightly as they broke into a trot. They hurried along the path leading to the headland. Macro sucked in a breath. ‘Now we’re for it.’
Cato had given the order for the
Sobek
to head for the entrance to the bay at full speed and the drum beneath the deck beat the time as the oars swept forward, down and back, powering the warship forward. In the near darkness, Macro’s signal had stood out clearly. But then more flames had appeared briefly, licking up out of the tower and illuminating the surrounding rocks.
‘What the hell is he playing at?’ said the trierarch. ‘He’s going to give the whole thing away.’
‘Something’s gone wrong,’ Cato responded anxiously. ‘How long before we make the entrance to the bay?’
The trierarch squinted at the coastline and estimated the distance. ‘Within the half-hour if we keep up the current speed.’
‘So long?’ Cato stared at the headland. He forced himself to push his concern for Macro aside and concentrated on the timing. From his experience of the last two months he knew that a well-handled ship could be refloated from a beach in less than a quarter of the time. If Ajax moved quickly he could get his men aboard their ship and make for the open sea before the trap was closed. That could not be allowed to happen, Cato resolved. He turned to the trierarch.
‘Can the ship go any faster?’
‘Yes, sir. Ramming speed is part of the drill. But we can only keep it up for a short stretch.’
‘Then give the order.’
‘But sir, it will exhaust the men. They need their strength for when we close to do battle.’
‘There won’t be any battle unless we reach the bay in time. Your men must row their hearts out. Understand?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Then give the order. Pass it on to the other ships. Go!’
The trierarch dropped down the ladder on to the deck and ran to the midships hatchway to shout the order to his timekeeper. Cato heard the drum increase its pace, and the deck gave a little lurch beneath his boots as the
Sobek
began to speed up. To the east, off the port bow, the sky was turning pink and painting the undersides of a few scattered clouds in a warm delicate hue. Cato willed the ship on. The flames on the tower had died away now and he could not help wondering what had become of Macro and his men. If they still lived, then they were on their own until the warships reached the bay. Even as his thoughts were with this friend, Cato saw a tiny pinprick of light dancing along the headland, then
He looked over his shoulder and saw Hamedes. ‘Give me a bloody hand!’
The priest hesitated for an instant, his eyes wide with fear, then he plucked a cloak from a peg on the wall beside him and joined Macro, smothering the remaining flames. When the last of the fire was stamped out, Macro nodded his thanks. He looked round the smoke-filled room. An acrid stench gripped his throat and he coughed. Throwing the cloak down, he stumbled to the stairs, pushing the priest ahead of him, and climbed up on to the roof. He crossed to the wooden rail and breathed deeply to clear his lungs. The dawn was coming up fast; a band of pale light thickened along the horizon. By its glow Macro could already see the full extent of the bay from the shadowy mangroves, across the water to the fort. Several figures had emerged from the gate and were looking directly towards the headland. More appeared on the walls of the fort and then there was a shrill blast of a horn.
‘Damn, they’ve seen the fire.’ Macro clenched the rail. A moment later, he watched a strong force of men emerge from the gate. They carried shields and a mix of weapons – swords, spears, axes and a handful of bows. Several of them carried torches that flared brightly as they broke into a trot. They hurried along the path leading to the headland. Macro sucked in a breath. ‘Now we’re for it.’
Cato had given the order for the
Sobek
to head for the entrance to the bay at full speed and the drum beneath the deck beat the time as the oars swept forward, down and back, powering the warship forward. In the near darkness, Macro’s signal had stood out clearly. But then more flames had appeared briefly, licking up out of the tower and illuminating the surrounding rocks.
‘What the hell is he playing at?’ said the trierarch. ‘He’s going to give the whole thing away.’
‘Something’s gone wrong,’ Cato responded anxiously. ‘How long before we make the entrance to the bay?’
The trierarch squinted at the coastline and estimated the distance. ‘Within the half-hour if we keep up the current speed.’
‘So long?’ Cato stared at the headland. He forced himself to push his concern for Macro aside and concentrated on the timing. From his experience of the last two months he knew that a well-handled ship could be refloated from a beach in less than a quarter of the time. If Ajax moved quickly he could get his men aboard their ship and make for the open sea before the trap was closed. That could not be allowed to happen, Cato resolved. He turned to the trierarch.
‘Can the ship go any faster?’
‘Yes, sir. Ramming speed is part of the drill. But we can only keep it up for a short stretch.’
‘Then give the order.’
‘But sir, it will exhaust the men. They need their strength for when we close to do battle.’
‘There won’t be any battle unless we reach the bay in time. Your men must row their hearts out. Understand?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Then give the order. Pass it on to the other ships. Go!’
The trierarch dropped down the ladder on to the deck and ran to the midships hatchway to shout the order to his timekeeper. Cato heard the drum increase its pace, and the deck gave a little lurch beneath his boots as the
Sobek
began to speed up. To the east, off the port bow, the sky was turning pink and painting the undersides of a few scattered clouds in a warm delicate hue. Cato willed the ship on. The flames on the tower had died away now and he could not help wondering what had become of Macro and his men. If they still lived, then they were on their own until the warships reached the bay. Even as his thoughts were with this friend, Cato saw a tiny pinprick of light dancing along the headland, then
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