Read Online Captain of Rome by John Stack - Free Book Online

Rome and inform the Senate of your defeat!’
    The tribune turned contemptuously from the younger man and nodded his dismissal to the prefect and port commander before saluting his equal from the Second. His gesture was returned and then all four men left the room without another word, each one passing Varro at arm’s length, careful not to touch the disgraced officer for fear of tainting their own fortune. Varro stood rooted to the spot as the footfalls of the others faded along the corridor.
    Hamilcar let his shield fall to the sand as the approaching skiff reached the line of breaking waves off the beach at Thermae. The two oarsmen rowed with skill, riding each wave as the current of the crest caught them, using the blades of their oars to balance the hull in the crashing surf. Hamilcar walked forward into the water as one of the oarsmen jumped nimbly from the boat, holding the bowsprit to steady the craft and allow their commander to board. Hamilcar jumped in and sat in the bow as the boat was swung around to once more face the anchored fleet in the mid-channel of the harbour, both oarsmen rapidly re-taking their positions,bending their backs into the task of sculling out through the breakers.
    Hamilcar stared impassively past the two rowers to the beach he had just left and the exhausted soldiers who stood motionless along the line of seaweed that marked the furthest advance of the tide. They had fought well over the past twenty-four hours, harrying the Romans relentlessly as they retreated east along the shore. At first Hamilcar and his men could only pick off stragglers and the injured, surprised as they were by the sudden breakout of the Romans, a breakout that had postponed Hamilcar’s reunion with the fleet until now. The enemy infantry’s escape had been uneven and the narrow confines of the coastline had forced the Romans into an extended line of advance, a weak formation that Hamilcar’s commanders had mercilessly exploited, advancing rapidly on the enemy flanks to ambush every rearguard the Romans formed. Hamilcar had personally led many of the charges, his anger at the frustration of his trap causing him to recklessly take the front in an effort to assuage his fury. His orders had been disobeyed; his fleet cut to an ineffective fraction of its original size by an unknown person. Exposing the traitor had become the dominant thought in Hamilcar’s mind and with the pattern of attack established, he had delegated the pursuit of the Romans to one of his commanders, freeing him to return to Thermae to find his betrayer.
    The skiff pulled neatly alongside the flagship, a quinquereme named the Alissar. Hamilcar leapt onto the stepladder and climbed up to the main deck, ignoring the crew assembled in his honour, his gaze instead seeking out the man he had placed in command of the fleet. Himilco stood front and centre, the captain’s salute formal and exact. He stepped forward towards Hamilcar, extending his hand as he did.
    ‘Welcome aboard, Commander,’ he said, a broad smile forming across his narrow face. ‘Congratulations on a great victory!’
    The crew cheered on cue, their voices raised in praise of their commander but Hamilcar’s stern expression never changed and as he neared the captain he noticed a shade of doubt flash across Himilco’s eyes.
    ‘Follow me,’ Hamilcar said brusquely, cutting off the captain before he could utter another word.
    Himilco hesitated for a second, his mind racing to comprehend Hamilcar’s attitude, before he hurried after his commander.
    Hamilcar pushed open the door of the main cabin under the aft-deck and walked into the middle of the room. It was sparsely furnished, as befitting a battleship, with a map-strewn table in the centre and a cot on the starboard side. A large personal chest stood on the opposite side of the cabin. Hamilcar closed his eyes and dropped his head until his chin rested on his chest, breathing deeply in an effort to control the urge to run the