Cato snatched a lungful of air and jumped to his feet. 'NOW!'

With a deep-throated roar the marines rose up from the shadows and tore down the linen screens that had disguised their warship. Those who had been equipped with boarding grapples swung them up and out and they sailed through the darkness, thudding down on to the decks of the enemy vessels. At once the lines were pulled tight, the barbs lodging in the timbers of the pirate ships, and they were drawn in towards the bireme. At the stern a flame crackled into life as a marine set a lamp to the oil-drenched beacon prepared earlier. The wavering glow lit up the marines swarming across the deck, as well as the shocked and surprised faces of the pirates aboard the vessel held fast to the stern of the bireme. Moments later more flames flared up in the distance to acknowledge the signal and the trap was complete.

For a moment the pirates were silent, then their leaders roared out orders and with a great cheer they clambered up on to the rails of their vessels and threw themselves at the Romans.

'GET 'EM!' Macro roared close by, and the marines pressed forward to meet the enemy. For a moment the two sides were distinct and separate and then there was only chaos as the deck of the bireme was covered in a mass of bodies hacking and slashing at each other with swords, daggers, clubs and axes. In the pale light of the beacon only the white headbands of the marines could distinguish one side from the other. Around Cato a thin line of marines dissolved as the pirates jumped in amongst them and threw themselves into the attack.

'Look out!' a voice cried in Cato's ear as five or six dark forms flew through the air and crashed down on the Romans. Cato snatched up his small round buckler and thrust it towards the nearest enemy. The pirate sprawled across the centurion, carrying them both down on to the deck, the impact driving the air from Cato's lungs in an explosive gasp of pain. He felt smothered, and the stench of the man's hot breath was in his face as Cato dropped his buckler and clawed over the pirate's shoulder, searching for his throat, clamping his fingers down on the windpipe. The man reared up, choking with agony as he tore himself free of Cato's grasp. Then there was an explosive grunt as Cato slammed the tip of his sword into the man's side, just below the ribcage. The pirate wrenched himself free, toppling away from Cato and a warm gush of blood splashed down on to Cato's arm. He thrust himself up and crouched low on the deck, glancing madly about as the fight raged on every side. Above the clatter of weapons and the groans and cries of the men locked in conflict, Cato heard Macro yelling out to his men at the top of his voice.

'Get them! Kill them all! Kill 'em!'

Cato grabbed the buckler from the deck and pushed his way into the melee, thrusting himself between two marines hacking away at the heaving crowd of pirates who had forced their way on to the deck of the Roman ship. Directly in front of Cato a huge man landed on the deck with a thud. He wore a linen cuirass and brandished a heavy curved blade, which he swung back over his head the moment he saw the Roman officer in front of him.

'No you don't!' Cato shouted, sweeping his buckler up to meet the blow and thrusting his sword forward. The blade caught the man in the chest, making him stagger back a pace, but the point only cracked the surface of the cuirass, and made a shallow cut into the muscle beyond before it fetched up against a bone. Even so, it robbed the blow that hissed down at Cato of much of its force and the sword glanced off the buckler with a dull ring and struck the deck. A searing pain shot up Cato's left arm and his fingers went numb, nervelessly releasing their grip on the handle of the buckler, which fell away. Cato snatched back his blade, altered the angle and thrust the point up into the soft flesh under the pirate's chin, and punched it into the man's skull. The pirate toppled backwards and Cato wrenched the blade back with a wet crunch.

He straightened up, glancing round, but it was impossible to tell how the fight was going. The writhing mass of marines and pirates was too confused for Cato to work out which side had the upper hand. Over the heads of his men he could see the growing flicker from the beacon on one of the biremes rowing towards the fight. Then he was aware of another enemy rushing forwards, swinging an axe as he pressed in towards Cato, teeth locked in a wild grimace of hatred and rage in the dim glare of the flares of light from the aft deck.

A sudden surge of men closed in on Cato, pressing into his flesh, and to his horror he found that his sword arm was pinned to his side. The pirate snarled with glee and then swept his axe round, slicing through the night air at Cato's neck. Cato lashed out with his boots and slipped down towards the deck. Above him the axe swished overhead and crunched through the spine of the man standing next to Cato. On his hands and knees Cato felt the warm drizzle of blood splattering down across his shoulders. As dark bodies drove him on to his side a new terror gripped him: that he might be crushed to death on the deck. Shielding his head as best as he could with his numb left arm, Cato held his sword close, ready to thrust, and tried to regain his feet. But a fresh surge knocked him down, and at once a booted foot stamped down on his chest.

'Get off!' Cato shouted. 'Get off me!'

A face glanced down in shock and at once the boot was removed. 'Sorry, sir.'

Before Cato could reply the broad tip of a spear plunged into the man's throat and carried him back, out of sight. Cato knew that if he did not get off the deck soon he would be dead. He drew a deep breath and powered himself up, lashing out with sword and fist at anybody in his way, regardless of whether it was pirate or marine. Then he was up again, feet braced apart and sword ready. The press of the melee had passed him by and now the focus of the fight was moving aft, behind the mast. He stepped aside as a handful of marines swept past and threw themselves into the struggling mass. Breathing heavily, Cato took a moment to glance round and saw that one of the biremes was only moments away. Her marines were crowded above the prow, ready to join the battle and decide the outcome. Cato turned and saw the other bireme slightly further away, oars surging through the sea as she hurried towards the fight.

But already one of the pirate trierarchs had realised the terrible danger he and his men were facing. Beyond the stern of Cato's bireme, he could see one of the pirate ships lurching away, then snag on one of the grappling lines. A distant shout sent one of the pirates running to the side rail and he parted the line under a flurry of axe blows.

'Shit…' Cato muttered. The ship would escape unless someone was alerted to its trierarch's intentions. Only the furthest bireme could intercept in time, but the melee on the deck stood between Cato and the stern, from where he could attract their attention and shout his warning. He sheathed his sword, hurried to the side of the bireme and threw his legs over the rail, scrabbling for purchase on the planking with the toes of his boots. Then he began to work his way aft, the dark glimmer of the sea a short distance below. Beyond the rail the scrape of weapons and curses and cries of the battle continued and Cato kept his head low as he shuffled awkwardly along the side of the bireme. Then the rail began to curve up towards the steering oars and the sweeping fan of the sternpost. Gritting his teeth, Cato strained his arms and pulled himself up, but as soon as his head rose above the rail a thin pirate smiled toothlessly and leaned towards him, dagger drawn back to slash Cato across the throat. Just as Cato was preparing to throw himself backward into the sea a burly arm wrapped itself round the pirate's neck, yanking him off his feet. The man grunted and then his whole body spasmed, before it toppled to one side and Macro plucked his blade from beneath the pirate's shoulder.