'This was not a good idea,' Macro growled as he squinted into the darkness. Over the side of the ship they could hear the waves breaking gently on the shingle some distance away. The black mass of the arms of the small bay they had chosen for the ambush stretched out around them. Away from the land, the sky and sea blurred together into a forbidding gloom.

'Can hardly see a bloody thing,' Macro continued.

'That's the whole idea,' Cato replied patiently. 'It'll work in our favour. Trust me.'

Cato could just make out the weary look on his friend's face as they sat on the deck. All around them marines were sitting in strict silence against the sides of the bireme, weapons close to hand. Linen side screens had been erected around the deck to give the ship the profile of a merchant vessel. After six days' cruising along the coast the disguise had finally lured some overeager pirates. From a distance, or in the dark, the bireme would pass for something far more innocent, and tempting, as it quietly wallowed in the gentle swell.

The only signs of life were up on the beach – a handful of campfires, around which huddled the sailors from the bireme. Two men stood sentry, dimly visible on the fringes of the light cast by the fire – the same light that would silhouette the bireme from the sea. That was what Cato was counting on. Somewhere, out to sea, stood the three ships that had shadowed the bireme during the afternoon. They had been cautious enough, hovering on the horizon, no doubt suspicious of such easy-looking prey. The bireme had played its part well enough, affecting some slovenly watch-keeping before turning away from the threat at the last moment, going cumbersomely about and fleeing from the pirates as dusk fell.

The pirates too were playing their own game, having moved away as if they had given up the chase and were sailing back up the coast. Shortly before they were out of sight Cato gave the order for the bireme to head into land, steering towards the bay he had reconnoitred the day before and decided at once that it would be suitable for his trap. A concealed battery of catapults stood close to the shore at the base of each low headland, ready to sweep the surface of the sea between them when the time came to spring the ambush. Two more biremes were anchored in the shadows of a small cliff, ready to slip their cables and row into action. If the pirates took the bait there would be little chance of escape.

As Cato reflected on the details of his plan, he was suddenly struck by a terrible sense of doubt. Supposing the pirates had given up the chase, as they had seemed to, and were even now bedded down and peacefully sleeping many miles away up the coast? Come the morning the marines and sailors who had spent an uncomfortable night under arms, nerves strained in the long wait for the appearance of the enemy, would be bitter and angry and would curse the young centurion and take him for a fool. On top of their recent defeat and the pirate raids of the previous nights it could only further damage their morale. If this ambush failed Cato had no doubt that the prefect would not be willing to try anything else and Telemachus would have his victory over the Roman navy. A dangerous precedent would have been set for any other pirates lurking around the fringes of the Mediterranean. The Emperor would show no mercy to those he held responsible for such a state of affairs…

Macro stirred beside him, and peered over the side, glancing out to sea. He sniffed irritably and slumped back down beside Cato.

'I'm telling you, they aren't coming,' he said softly. 'We must have been waiting for at least six hours already. We're wasting our time.'

'Patience,' Cato hissed back. 'They'll come.'

'How can you be so sure?'

'They're pirates, aren't they?'

'Pretty bloody smart pirates,' Macro responded bitterly. 'They've had the drop on us from the moment this campaign started. What makes you think they'll fall for it?'

'Think about it. They've been snapping up prizes for months. The result is that more and more merchants have been afraid to come out of port. It's the pirates' very success that has been starving them of prey for the last month or so. I'd bet that we're the first merchant ship they've seen for a long time. They won't be able to resist the temptation. I'd bet my life on it.'

Macro grunted. 'You are betting your life on it. Mine too.'

Cato shrugged. 'Then you'd best pray that I'm right.'

'And if they don't come?'

Cato didn't reply, but just sat quite still, head cocked slightly to one side.

Macro nudged him. 'Well?'

'Quiet…' Cato tensed and stared out to sea, his body motionless.

'What is it?'

'I'm not sure…Over there, look.' Cato pointed towards the black mass of the nearest of the headlands and Macro followed the direction of his finger and strained his eyes to make out any detail.

'Can't see anything.'

'No?'

Macro shook his head.

'Me neither,' Cato admitted with a soft chuckle.

'Very fucking funny. I just hope you find it as funny when the Emperor has us thrown to…' Macro glanced out to sea and nudged Cato. 'Looks like you were right after all.'

Cato snapped his head round and saw the enemy vessel at once, as if it had simply materialised from the gloom. The pirates had unstepped the mast to lower the profile and the slender oars were muffled as they slowly propelled the ship into the bay no more than half a mile away.

'Pass the word!' Macro prodded the nearest marine with his boot. 'Enemy in sight. Make ready but no one moves until the signal is given. Go.'

The marine shuffled off in the darkness to spread the word and the two centurions turned back to stare at the approaching pirate vessel. Cato grasped Macro's arm.'There… to one side. The other two. Looks like we'll make a clean sweep of it.'

'Got to catch them first.'

'Yes…'

As they watched, the enemy vessels crept forward across the bay, gaining definition as each thrust of the oars brought them closer. Soon they could hear the soft splash and rush of the pirates' oars and could make out the white surge of water along the bows. Above the prow of each vessel a dense mass of dark shapes crowded the fore deck, still and silent as they closed on their prey. Macro slowly drew his sword and clenched his hairy fist around the handle. He looked at Cato.

'Not yet,' Cato whispered. He looked past Macro to where the nearest marine grasped a boarding grapple, with a length of rope dipping down to coil resting on the deck. He caught the man's eye and waved his hand down. The marine hurriedly lowered his head.

The enemy came on and Cato's mind raced at the prospect of the imminent struggle. His heart pounded with excitement and his mouth was quite dry. In a moment it would all begin and chaos would rage over the deck that surrounded him. Three centuries of marines crouched motionless behind the linen superstructure and Cato could sense their tension, determination to kill, and fear. Nearly two hundred and fifty of them, each with a white band tied about his head for identification. But how many pirates were aboard those ships gliding down towards them? A hundred on each, Cato guessed. It would be a closely fought battle before the other two biremes could join the struggle. But once they did, then the fate of the pirates would surely be sealed.

Above the soft lapping of the water along the hulls Cato could now hear the first quiet words of command, and the excitement in the voice was unmistakable. Cato smiled. The pirates must think that their approach had not been detected and they were about to pounce on the merchant ship without the alarm even being raised. With a jarring thud the bow of the lead pirate ship ground into the side of the bireme and scraped along the beam. The other ships glided towards the stern and across the bow, ready to add their crews to the boarding party.