Masters of the Sea Trilogy: Ship of Rome, Captain of Rome, Master of Rome
The trilogy of John Stack’s brilliant MASTERS OF THE SEA about the clash of the Roman and Carthaginian empires and the battle for sovereignty that rips up the high seas, here in a complete ebook for the first time.John Stack’s MASTERS OF THE SEA trilogy brings to life the high politics and naval action endured on the high seas.SHIP OF ROME brings to life the tremendous clash of the Roman and Carthaginian empires through the battle for sovereignty that takes place on the high seas. At the helm is Atticus, captain of Rome’s coastal fleet. And with his fledgling Roman navy, staffed with inexperience sailors and unwilling legionaries, they are about to face an enemy who is far superior.CAPTAIN OF ROME sees Atticus iup against his commander, a young upstart whose position has been purchased rather than earned. Bound to obey his inexperienced commander's rash orders, Atticus sails straight into a carefully-laid trap. In the battle that follows, it is only by defying his commander that he can pull his men back from the brink of defeat.MASTER OF ROME finds Atticus as commander of the growing Roman navy, blockading a port near Tunis, when the Roman legions suffer terrible defeat by the triumphant Carthaginian army. He and his ships escape together with the main body of the Roman fleet out manoeuvred by the more skilful Carthaginians and then caught and almost completely annihilated by a terrible storm. Atticus and his crew are among the handful of survivors and being the messenger of this news to the Senate in Rome brings Atticus into political troubles, almost as stormy as the sea.
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JOHN STACK
MASTERS OF THE SEA TRILOGY
Ship of RomeCaptain of RomeMaster of Rome
Contents
JOHN STACK
MASTER OF THE SEA
Ship of Rome
To my beloved Adrienne
Contents
For an instant the low sun shone through the surrounding fog to illuminate the lone figure on the foredeck of the Aquila. Atticus had been motionless but the momentary shot of sunlight caused him to quickly lower his head and close his eyes tightly against the light. He raised his hand instinctively and rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, trying to wipe away the tiredness he could feel in every part of his body. Slowly raising his head, he spied the winter sun, estimating it to be no more than an hour above the horizon, its weakened rays only now beginning to burn off the sea mist which had rolled in so ponderously the evening before, and so the Roman galley continued to be enveloped in the all-consuming embrace of the fog.
The Aquila, the Eagle, was a trireme, a galley with three rows of oars manned by two hundred chain-bound slaves. She was of the new cataphract style, with an enclosed upper deck that protected the rowers beneath and improved the ship’s performance in heavy weather. As a galley she was a breed apart, the pinnacle of Roman naval technology and a fearsome weapon.
As the onshore wind freshened, blowing a cooling mist into his face, Atticus opened his mouth slightly to heighten his sense of smell. The oncoming wind and his position at the front of the trireme allowed him to filter out his surroundings, the salt-laden air, the smouldering charcoal braziers and the stench emanating from the slave decks below. The breeze would help conceal the Aquila, robbing any approaching ship of the opportunity of picking up the all-too-familiar smells of a Roman galley.
With his vision impaired by fog and, before that, darkness, Atticus had planned on detecting his prey by sound, specifically by the rhythmic beat of the drum marking the oar-strokes of the enemy bireme’s two rows of galley slaves. He knew from reports that the galley they were hunting would be travelling close to the shore, passing the inlet that hid the Aquila from the main channel. The fog afforded the Roman galley extended cover now that the sun had risen, but it was fickle and Atticus knew he could not rely on it as he had on the darkness of the pre-dawn.
Hobnails reverberating on the timber decking indicated a legionary’s approach, and Atticus turned to watch the soldier emerge from the fog behind him. He was a hastatus, a junior soldier, recently recruited and untested in battle. He stood tall with broad shoulders, his upper arms disproportionately developed from long hours training with a gladius, the short sword of the Roman infantry. He wore full battledress and, although his face was expressionless beneath the iron helmet, Atticus sensed the man’s confidence.
The legionary stopped four feet short of Atticus and stood to attention, raising his right fist and slamming it into his chest, a salute to the captain of the ship standing before him. The sound of the soldier’s fist against chain mail sounded unnaturally loud in the quiet of the morning. The silence was shattered, a silence needed to ensure the Aquila remained undetected. As the legionary drew himself to his full height in anticipation of addressing a senior officer, Atticus reacted.
‘Beg to report, Captain,’ the legionary declared in a strident voice. As per regulation, he was looking straight ahead, but his eyes dropped quickly as the captain suddenly lunged at him, his expression murderous. The soldier tried to react but the movement was too quick and he felt the captain’s hand close over his mouth.
‘Keep your voice down, you whoreson,’ Atticus hissed. ‘Are you looking to have us all killed?’
The legionary’s eyes widened in surprise and alarm as both his hands wrapped themselves around the captain’s wrist in an attempt to ease the pressure over his mouth. Panic flared as he realized that the grip was vicelike, the muscles in the captain’s arm like iron, the pressure unrelenting. Atticus relaxed his hold a little and the legionary gulped air into his lungs, dread still in his eyes which moments ago had showed only confidence. Atticus removed his hand, his face expressing the warning for silence that needed no vocal manifestation.
‘I, I …’ the legionary spluttered.
‘Easy soldier,’ said Atticus, ‘breathe easy.’
As if for the first time, Atticus noticed how young the legionary was, barely eighteen at most. Septimus, the marine centurion, had twenty such hastati under his command. Fresh from the barracks, and before that a Roman family, these boys had eagerly signed on at sixteen to fulfil their duty as Roman citizens.
