Free Avenger of Rome by Douglas Jackson Page B

crack and a cry from behind told him another of the shafts had struck home. He felt hands working at his waist below his armour, but he didn’t have time to wonder what was happening.
    ‘Tiberius?’
    ‘Sir,’ the tribune gasped. His own breath rasping in his throat, Valerius found he was uncommonly pleased that the younger man was showing signs of tiring. At least it showed he was human.
    ‘When I move forward, you go.’
    ‘I can hold them.’
    ‘That’s not a suggestion, tribune. Get back to the ship. Now!’ As he shouted the word Valerius smashed his shield at the pirates contesting the narrow passageway. He hadn’t worked out what came after. All that mattered was to give Tiberius and his men time to escape. The other galleys would be almost on them now and Aurelius had orders to get the
Golden Cygnet
under way before they were in a position to threaten him, no matter who was left on board. Sword blades clattered against the big wooden shield and he knew it was only a matter of time before someone worked their way over the oar benches to flank him, or stabbed his legs beneath the shield. The pressure was almost unbearable. He remembered the last moments in the Temple of Claudius and realized he was grinning.
    ‘Lord? Valerius?’ His heart quickened further at Serpentius’s shout. ‘Now.’
    A hail of spears arced over his head into the crowded passage in front of him and the pirate crew hesitated for a precious moment.
    With a twist of his wrist the shield dropped free and he ran.

X
    WITH THE PIRATES so close behind that he could feel their breath on his neck, Valerius sprinted towards the galley’s bow. The crew of the
Golden Cygnet
had cast off the grapnels and the big merchant ship was already five feet away, with the gap widening every second. He glanced up to see a row of anxious, wide-eyed faces and registered the ropes hanging from the bigger vessel’s side.
    Still travelling full pelt, he mounted the low platform in the bow and dived for the ropes, reaching out with his left hand. Even carrying the weight of his armour he would have done it. He was certain he would have done it. But, as he launched himself, a callused pirate hand clipped his heel and turned the leap into a sprawling tumble that smashed him against the ship’s side. His helmet struck the seasoned oak with a clang and the impact knocked the breath from his body, before he plummeted into the blue-black void under the
Cygnet
’s rail.
    The shock of the freezing waters seemed to stop his heart and for a fleeting moment he had no idea what was happening. His bewildered mind registered the ship’s weed-streaming timbers through the opaque curtain of blue water and silver bubbles as the light above him faded to a tiny window. As he sank, the fingers of his left hand scrabbled for the straps of the armour that was carrying him to his death, but he knew it was useless. He had drowned before, trapped in the narrow aqueduct tunnel below the Viminal Hill, but that had been a terrible, violent drowning, while this was almost dreamlike by comparison. He made no conscious decision to hold his breath. His body’s natural inclination to survive was automatic. But he could only hold it for so long. Gradually, the pressure grew in his chest and his nose and throat began to fill. He looked up at the wooden hull for the last time before a convulsive jerk made him choke and the darkness closed in.
    ‘I’ve seen it done before.’
    The words seemed to come from very far away.
    ‘Put him on his stomach and pump his back.’
    He felt himself being turned over and the pressure of strong hands on his ribs. At first nothing happened; then he felt a burning sensation in his chest and throat.
    ‘One of the steersmen fell overboard in the harbour at Alexandria. We thought he was gone, but his bunkmate who was sweet on him lay on top of the body and gave him a good squeeze. Suddenly all the water came out and he was good as new.’
    Valerius noisily