The Gladiator

Suddenly the distant sail collapsed; Cato saw that the mast had snapped, and sail, spar, and rigging tumbled over the side. As the tangled wreckage hit the water, it acted as a brake, savagely dragging the ship over to one side as it turned its beam towards the great waves rolling in from the heart of the sea. For an instant Cato could make out the men crouching on the deck. Then a huge grey wall crashed over the ship, engulfing it. The keel broke the surface, like the spine of a whale, and settled in the water; then the next wave washed over it and the ship was gone. Cato stared at the spot, willing there to be some sign of survivors, but there was nothing, and the curiosity of before turned to horror at the sudden extinction of the ship and its entire crew.

'Poor bastards,' he muttered, then turned away and walked slowly towards the shelter of the temple, as the wind-fanned flames in the cupola at the top of the lighthouse flared brilliantly against the dark storm clouds scudding overhead. Once he was in the shelter of the tower, Cato took a last look towards the sea, his heart filled with pity for any ships out there in such a tempest.

Two days later, early in the morning, the fleet was ready to sail.

Petronius came down to the dock in the royal harbour to bid farewell to Cato and First Spear Centurion Decius Fulvius. The storm had passed the day after it had struck and several ships had foundered in the commercial harbour. Fortunately the fleet had lost only one trireme, which had dragged its anchors and been holed when it struck the breakwater.

'Take good care of my men.' Petronius smiled faintly at Cato. 'I want 'em back in good condition once you have put down the slave rebellion. The gods know I'm taking a big risk in stripping so many men from the garrison of Egypt to help Sempronius out. Make sure he understands that.'

'I will be sure to pass the message on to the senator, sir.'

'Good, and tell my old friend that if he should ever need my help again in the future, then please hesitate to call on me.'

Cato smiled at the quip, but Fulvius just frowned for a moment and then shrugged before he saluted his commander. 'I'll look after the lads, sir. Shouldn't think a mob of renegade slaves will give me much trouble. Even so, I'll not take any unnecessary risks.'

'Good.'

Cato followed Fulvius across the gangway and on to the deck of the flagship, an ageing quadreme named the Triton. As soon as they were aboard, the marines hauled the gangway in and the men at the oars fended the vessel away from the dock. As soon as a sufficient gap had opened up, the navarch commanding the fleet gave the order for the ship to get under way, and the oars were unshipped and the blades lowered into the sea. The officer in charge of the rowers set an easy pace and the Triton glided across the still waters of the royal harbour and headed out to sea. The rest of the squadron took up station astern, as the troopships set sail and followed behind the warships. It was a fine spectacle, Cato reflected as he saw that hundreds of the local people had come out on to the Heptastadion to watch the fleet depart. The formation headed out past the lighthouse, and the Tritons bows lifted as they emerged into the swell of the open sea. The sudden motion caused Cato to grasp the side rail, and the image of the stricken ship he had seen during the storm jumped unbidden into his mind. The navarch chuckled as he glanced at him.

'Not much of a sailor, then?'

'Not much,' Cato admitted. 'I've had more than my share of sea travel recently'

'Well, not to worry. The storm has blown itself out nicely' The navarch scanned the horizon and sniffed the air. 'We're in for a fine spell, and will make Crete within three days at the most.'

'You can smell the weather to come?' Cato asked in surprise.

'No. But it helps calm my passengers if they think I can.' The navarch winked.

Cato made his way to the stern and stared back at Alexandria. By noon the city and the coastline had disappeared over the horizon, but the lighthouse was still clearly visible, and in the gentle breeze the smoke from its signal fire rose at an angle into the heavens.

In the fine weather the fleet made steady progress across the sea and sighted the coast of Crete on the evening of the third day. After carefully examining the coastline, the navarch was content that he knew where they had made landfall and gave the order to turn to the west and follow the coast towards Matala.

'We should reach the port tomorrow,' he announced to Cato and Fulvius as they shared a meal in his tiny cabin that night. He nodded at Cato. 'You say the port was hit hard by that wave. How bad was the damage, exactly?'