Avenger of Rome by Douglas Jackson

forgotten the horses. He lifted the hatch and dropped into the surging waist-deep waters of the hold. Two of the beasts were down, their eyes opaque in the gloom and their already bloated bodies floating among the swirling filth of the stall, but a pair of frightened white discs told him the gelding still survived. He drew his dagger and stepped closer to the big chestnut to place the point just behind his ear. There was an odd moment of calm when he could feel the horse’s warmth and trust. He steeled himself for the killing stroke, but something made him hesitate. Quickly, he ran to the hatch and somehow manoeuvred the hinged ramp into place. The gelding shook violently as he was cut free and Valerius spoke gently into his ear before covering his head with a blanket that hung by the side of the stall. The big horse seemed to understand what was required of him and allowed himself to be led up to the deck.
    A drop-down panel gave access to the gangplank when the ship was in harbour and Valerius unhooked the bolts that held it in place. There was still an eight foot plunge to the sea, but the gelding would have to take his chances. He slapped the horse on the rump and whipped the blanket from his head as the animal leapt over the side and vanished into the darkness.
    By now, the last of the crew were disappearing over the stern and his legs said he should join them. Instead, he forced himself to fight the fear that threatened to overwhelm him as the ship rose and fell in the surf, her keel crashing against the bottom with each hammer blow of a wave. He searched from bow to stern, shouting into the hatches as he ensured that no one was trapped or injured. As he struggled towards the stern the last frayed rope securing the shattered mast to the
Golden Cygnet
finally parted. No longer anchored, the whole ship spun side on to the waves and canted over until the deck was almost vertical. Valerius made a frantic grab for a stanchion as he flew over the side rail into the angry sea, where the surf picked him up and spun him like a falling leaf in an autumn storm. There was no up or down, just a rolling vortex of brown water that forced its way into his nose and mouth. His face broke the surface and he sucked in a breath that was as much sea as it was air, but in the same instant he was under again, dragged along the bottom where shells and gravel tore at the bare skin of his arms and legs. He tried to control his momentum, but the power of the surf had him in its grip and gradually he began to weaken. Just when he thought he was finished a hand grabbed the neck of his tunic and hauled him clear of the water. He found himself blinking into Serpentius’s glaring face.
    ‘Only a fool would sacrifice himself to save a horse,’ the Spaniard snarled. ‘Since when did you become a fool?’
    ‘Domitia?’ Valerius choked out the name with a mouthful of sea water.
    ‘Safe, but she twisted her ankle when she dropped from the rope. She won’t be walking anywhere in a hurry.’
    They struggled along the beach to where the former occupants of the
Golden Cygnet
gathered in two distinct huddles whipped by the wind-driven sand. Closest to the shore the dejected crew shivered where they’d crawled from the pounding surf. Further back Tiberius and two of his surviving cavalrymen provided what shelter they could for the lady Domitia and her two slaves. The third German trooper lay nearby, still alive, but halfway to another world, empty eyes staring into the rain and a purple dent four inches across in his forehead. Somehow, Tiberius had retained his cloak and the general’s daughter had wrapped it around herself and the girls.
    Valerius spoke reassuringly to the crewmen and ordered them to gather the food and water and place it conspicuously between the two groups. He knew better than to risk angering the sailors by seeming to monopolize the supplies so soon after the wreck. Better to wait to reimpose military discipline until their