The Gladiator

Though the light was dim, they could clearly see figures stumbling away from the estate's slave compound. Or what was left of it. The walls had been flattened, exposing the barrack blocks inside. Only two were still standing; the rest were in ruins.

'Bloody hell.' Macro stared at the ruins. 'What could have done that?'

'An earthquake,' said Sempronius. 'Has to be. I've experienced something like it before while I was serving as a tribune in Bythinia.

The earth shook, and there was a dull roar. It went on for some moments, and shook some buildings to pieces. Those inside were crushed and buried under the rubble.' He shuddered at the memory.

'Hundreds died...'

'But if it's an earthquake, then why were we affected, out here at sea?'

'I don't know, Macro. The work of the gods is beyond the understanding of men.'

'Perhaps,' Cato remarked. 'But surely, if the tremor on land is severe enough, it would communicate itself through the water to us?'

'That may be so,' Sempronius admitted. 'In any case, we're the lucky ones. It is those on land who will have felt the full power of the gods' wrath.'

For a moment the three men stared towards the ruined slave compound, slowly slipping into the distance as the Horus sailed steadily away from the coast. A fire had broken out in the ruins, most likely from the kitchens preparing the evening meal, Cato decided.

Flames licked up into the dusk, illuminating the shocked figures of the survivors. A handful were desperately picking away at the rubble to free those trapped beneath. Cato shook his head in pity.

'Be thankful we are at sea. I would not want to be ashore now. You should be grateful for that at least, Macro.'

'Really?' Macro replied quietly. 'What makes you think the gods have finished with us yet?'

'Deck there!' a voice suddenly cried from aloft. 'Captain, look!'

The sailor sitting astride the spar close to the top of the mast had thrust his spare arm out, along the coast to the west.

'Make your report properly!' the captain bellowed up to him.

What do you see?'

There was a pause before the sailor replied anxiously. 'I don't know, sir. Never seen its like. A line, like a wall, right across the sea.'

'Nonsense, man! That's impossible.'

'Sir, I swear, that's what it looks like.'

'Fool!' The captain crossed to the side of the ship, swung himself up on to the ratlines and began to clamber aloft to join the lookout.

'Now then, you bloody fool, where is this wall of yours?'

The lookout thrust his hand towards the horizon, into the fading light of the setting sun. At first the captain could see little as he squinted. Then, as his eyes adjusted to the distant gleam, he saw it. A faint glitter of reflected light rippling along the horizon, above a dark band that stretched from out to sea right up to the coast of Crete.

Where it touched the land there was a churning foam of water.

'Mother of Zeus,' the captain muttered as his guts instantly turned to ice. The lookout was right. There was a wall ahead of the Horus, a wall of water. A vast tidal wave was sweeping along the coast directly towards the ship, no more than two or three miles away and racing towards them faster than the swiftest of horses.

CHAPTER TWO

Atidal wave?' Cato's eyes widened. 'How big?'

'Big as a bloody cliff,' the captain replied. 'And heading this way, straight along the coast.'

'Then we must alter course,' said Sempronius. 'Get out of its way'

'There's no time for that. In any case, the wave stretched as far as I could see. We can't avoid it.'

The senator and the two centurions stared at the captain for a moment before Sempronius spoke again. 'So, what now?'

'Now?' The captain gave a brittle laugh. 'We say our prayers and make our final farewells and wait until the wave hits us.'

Cato shook his head.' No. There has to be something you can do to save the ship.'

'There's nothing, I'm telling you,' the captain said bleakly.

'You haven't seen the size of that thing yet. But you will, any moment.'

All eyes turned towards the horizon, and then Cato noticed what looked like a dark shadow on the rim of the world, at the moment only a fine line and one that looked wholly unthreatening as yet. He stared at it briefly before turning back towards the captain. 'You've been in storms before, haven't you?'

'Oh, yes. Storms are one thing. A tidal wave is something else.

There's no hope for us.'

'Bollocks!' Macro growled, and then grabbed the captain's tunic in both hands and drew the Greek close to his face. 'There's always hope. I haven't survived fuck knows how many fights and injuries just to die on this tub. Now then, I ain't a sailor. That's your job.

You've got a dangerous situation on your hands. So you deal with it.

Do what you can to give us the best chance to live through this. You understand me?' He gave the captain a shake. 'Well?'

The Greek wilted before the intense gaze of the centurion and nodded. 'I'll do what I can.'

'That's better.' Macro smiled and released his grip.' Now then, is there anything we can do to help?'