‘Come with me, Councillor,’ Scipio said, and brushed past Longus, leading Demades through a small archway to an antechamber beyond. Longus could only look on in exasperation as the councillor was led away. Only when the two men were out of sight did his wits return and he ran into the crowded chamber.
‘Why?’ Scipio asked, trying to keep his expression neutral, struggling to keep his mounting excitement under control.
He listened as Demades outlined the reasons that Gisco had told him to recite. They were plausible in themselves, although Scipio would have been content if no reasons for defection had been forthcoming. For him the mere chance of glory was proving too great a temptation, and he had to force himself to think about the proposal rationally.
The opportunity was almost too good to be true. According to Demades, the island was there for the taking, with only a small Carthaginian garrison in the city itself and no naval presence in the area. It would be the new fleet’s first victory, minor given the odds, but major given the island’s strategic location as a naval base off the northern coast of Sicily. More importantly, it would be Scipio’s first victory, and the first step on his road to absolute power. It might even help the legions, he thought sardonically.
His thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of Duilius in the antechamber, flanked by a small number of senators, Longus amongst them.
‘Senior Consul,’ Duilius began, ‘I just heard the news.’
‘Yes, Senator,’ Scipio replied. ‘Given the importance of the city, I plan on sailing immediately with the twenty galleys of the new fleet to take possession of the island.’
‘Senator,’ Duilius replied, thinking fast, ‘the situation is too dangerous for you to expose yourself. As per the Senate’s resolution, I must be the one to command the expedition.’
‘I see no danger, Duilius,’ Scipio replied confidently. ‘The island is undefended and is willing to defect. Councillor Demades will testify to the fact that there is no Carthaginian naval presence in the area. Taking the island under our protection will be a mere formality.’
‘We must put the decision to the Senate,’ Duilius said, knowing he had a chance of reversing Scipio’s decision in the chamber.
‘No!’ Scipio said, suddenly angry. ‘There will be no debate. You forget yourself, Duilius. As strategic commander of the fleet I am in charge here and I have determined there is no danger. Therefore I will sail at once.’
‘I must protest, Scipio,’ Duilius said.
‘Protest as you wish, Duilius. In fact I give you leave to debate my decision in the Senate. While you are discussing my actions, I will be on my way to free the people of Lipara.’
With that, Scipio strode past the hamstrung Duilius, pushing his way through the knot of senators behind the junior consul. Demades watched him go. He had set the trap and the Romans had fallen prey. Now it was time to save himself.
‘You surely don’t need a personal guard in Rome,’ Longus said, half looking over his shoulder at the five men following himself and Demades.
‘One never knows,’ Demades said, thinking fast. ‘The news I carried from Lipara would be seen as a betrayal by the Carthaginians. I need protection from assassins.’
Longus laughed at the suggestion, confident that there were no Carthaginians in Rome.
Earlier Longus had watched Duilius storm out of the Senate and head towards his own town house. He was furious at the defeat of his mentor at the hands of the senior consul and was still wondering how he could reverse Scipio’s decision to sail to Lipara. He realized all he could do was wait for Duilius to summon him to his aid and hope that when the time came he could be of service. As the antechamber had emptied, Longus had noticed the lone figure of Demades, his presence forgotten by all in the heat of the moment. Demades had immediately approached the senator and asked him for his assistance, although at the time he would not say what assistance was required. Longus agreed and now led the councillor to his modest town house at the foot of the Palatine Hill.
On their arrival, Longus summoned a servant to show Demades to the guest quarters, with instructions thereafter to show the personal guard to the servants’ quarters.
‘I will accompany you into your room,’ Demades’s guard commander said suddenly.
‘You will hold your tongue,’ Longus stormed, amazed at the blatant insubordination.
‘It’s all right, Senator Longus,’ Demades blurted, stepping forward, his voice nervous, ‘the commander only fears for my safety.’
‘You are entirely safe within these walls,’ Longus retorted, insulted by the insinuation that his house was not safe, and taken aback by Demades’s defence of the errant officer.
‘Yes, of course,’ Demades replied, again caught between conflicting forces. One look at Cronus confirmed the course he had to take.
‘But, Longus, I promised my wife that I would keep a guard with me at all times. I do not wish to break my word.’
Longus paused for a moment, ashamed by Demades’s obvious trepidation, embarrassed that the man was so concerned about the good graces of his wife. Demades noted the disgust on Longus’s face and bit back the feeling of humiliation.
‘So be it,’ Longus said. ‘Please join me in the main dining room when you are refreshed,’ he added before stalking off, musing all the while on how much Demades had changed since their last encounter.
Cronus waited until the Roman left before escorting Demades into his quarters.
‘Curse you, Demades, why are we here?’ he hissed, pressing the councillor against the wall as he held his neck firm in his hand.
‘I had to come,’ Demades spluttered, the pressure on his throat frightening. ‘Longus insisted I accept his hospitality before making the return voyage to Lipara. To refuse would have been seen as an insult.’
Cronus snarled at the explanation, searching Demades’s voice for signs of deception. He heard only fear. With one last squeeze of pressure he released the councillor. Demades fell to the ground, his hand massaging his damaged throat. He kept his eyes low, trying to hide the myriad of emotions he knew must be written on his face. If Cronus gained any inkling of what Demades was planning, he knew he would be dead in a heartbeat.
Septimus’s face remained grim as yet another man failed to make the jump between the two galleys. The legionary’s clambering hands on the side rail drew cheers from some of the men on the foredeck of the Aquila before he fell the ten feet to the water below.
‘At least this one can swim,’ Septimus muttered to himself as he watched the man make his way over to a waiting rope ladder. They had almost lost one of the men earlier, who had fallen like others before him to the cheers of all, but had not risen immediately after sinking below the water. Two sailors had been quick to realize that the man couldn’t swim and they had dived in to rescue him. It had never occurred to Septimus that most of the men couldn’t swim, a skill he took for granted having learned it in his childhood in the river Tiber.
The training was, as expected, proving to be slow and gruelling. The men were jumping without sword or shield or the extra weight of body armour, and yet many could not make the jump. They were brave soldiers, of that Septimus was sure, for the Fourth had a fearsome reputation; but like all men when faced with an unfamiliar danger, they lacked confidence. Even those who made the other side landed off balance, and in a fight would be easy prey for a defender. It was going to take a number of days at least until all would be able to make the jump with ease. Then Septimus would have to move on to the more difficult task of teaching the legionaries the vital tactics needed for the first frenzied moments of any boarding.
As the cheers died