Pirata: Sea of Blood

Book 4: Pirata

by Simon Scarrow, T.J. Andrews

Genres: Action & Adventure; Historical Fiction

Synopsis

Part four in the new Roman pirate series of novellas from the Sunday Times bestselling authors Simon Scarrow and T. J. Andrews.

AD 25. Across the treacherous waters of the Adriaticum, rival pirate ships and Roman squadrons battle for control. Only the strongest can survive ...

In the dangerous waters along the Illyrian coast, a feared pirate crew is on the hunt. Prey is elusive, for Prefect Canis of the Roman navy has forbidden merchant ships from sailing without an escort. Captain Bulla and his first mate, the young pirate Telemachus, are relieved when a rare target is sighted. But the presence of armed soldiers on board takes them by surprise, as a gang of pirates prepares to take on a highly trained enemy. Victory, if it comes, will be at a terrible price.

There's shocking news to follow. Aware of Telemachus's growing prowess on the seas, the Romans have imprisoned his enslaved brother Nereus. As the men of Poseidon's Trident set sail for Italia, pursued by aggressive Roman warships, a plan is taking shape in Telemachus's mind. A plan only he would dare even to think of ...

The full novel of PIRATA is available now.

(P)2019 Headline Publishing Group Ltd

Release date: April 18, 2019

Publisher: Headline

Print pages: 84

Sample

Chapter One

Illyrian coast, early summer AD 25

Telemachus, first mate aboard Poseidon’s Trident, stood on the main deck of the pirate ship and gazed out towards the horizon. Less than two miles away, a cloud of spray went up as the small cargo vessel they were pursuing ploughed through the swell.

Four hours had passed since the lookout had first sighted the merchantman’s sail, near the port at Vegium. The chase had been long and hard, with the prey’s captain taking desperate measures in his attempt to evade the pirates. Her spare anchor, cordage and deck cargo had been dumped overside, and the last reefing points had been taken out of the sail, exposing every last stitch of her sailcloth to the land breeze whipping in from the Illyrian coastline. But even with her lightened load, the merchantman was no match for the pirates’ sleeker craft. As the afternoon wore on, Trident had steadily drawn nearer to her prey.

‘We’ll be closing on her soon,’ said Castor. The ship’s long-serving quartermaster stared out to sea, shading his eyes beneath the blinding sunshine.

Telemachus turned to him. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Aye.’ Castor nodded confidently. ‘We’re miles from the nearest safe anchorage. She won’t get away from us. Not if this weather holds.’

Another pirate to his left grinned. ‘Finally, some booty. About time. The way our luck’s been going, I was beginning to think we’d be returning home empty-handed.’

Telemachus glanced at his comrade. Geras was one of the few friends he’d made on Trident’s crew. They had been sworn into the ranks at the same time, after the merchant ship they were sailing on had been attacked, and the two men had quickly developed a close bond. Short and well built, Geras had proved himself a loyal and fearless pirate as well as a trusted companion. His weathered complexion hinted at the years he’d spent at sea, and the gleam in his eye suggested a thirst for plunder matched only by his insatiable appetite for wine and women.

‘It’s been slim pickings,’ Telemachus admitted.

‘Slim?’ Geras raised an eyebrow. ‘That’s putting it mildly. This is the first bloody sail we’ve seen in weeks. This area is more barren than a roomful of old crones.’

Telemachus nodded with feeling. Three weeks had passed since the crew had set out from their base at Petrapylae, their ship freshly revictualled and ready to loot the northern Adriaticum. They had quickly discovered that the coast was bereft of shipping, with the few sails they had encountered turning out to be fishing boats – hardly the lucrative plunder they had been promised by their captain. Bulla had worked the men hard to guard against idleness, ordering them to clean out the hold and practise running aloft to give chase to imaginary prey. But the threat of mutiny was never far away, and Telemachus had heard the first murmurs of discontent a few nights ago as the men went ashore for their evening meal. The sighting of the merchantman shortly before noon had provoked a feeling of quiet relief in the young first mate.

‘I don’t get it. What’s happened to all the other shipping?’ Telemachus wondered aloud.

‘Staying in port, I expect,’ Castor responded gruffly.

‘But why?’

‘I should have thought that’s obvious,’ the veteran said. ‘We’ve been hunting in these waters for a while now. Word’s bound to have got around about our presence.’

‘Perhaps they’re waiting for the Romans to clear the sea,’ Geras speculated.

‘Maybe,’ Telemachus said. ‘Or maybe something else has persuaded them to play safe.’

‘Like what?’

‘I’m not sure. All I know is, the captains wouldn’t stay ashore without good reason.’

‘Who cares?’ Geras gestured at the vessel ahead. ‘Our luck’s about to change. As long as she’s carrying some decent cargo, I’ll be happy. So should you, seeing as you’re first mate.’

As second in command, Telemachus would be due a double share of any plunder they captured while at sea. The extra money would go some way towards helping free his brother Nereus from the bonds of slavery. With a few more successful raids, he would soon have saved enough to make a generous offer to Nereus’s Roman master at the forge in Thorikos.

‘Just as long as we don’t run into any more warships,’ Castor muttered.

Geras nodded uneasily and looked away. Twice in the past few days the pirates had sighted imperial navy squadrons. On both occasions the men of Poseidon’s Trident had changed course and fled under full sail, seeking anchorage in the remote islands and inlets scattered along this side of the sea. The Roman biremes had made no attempt to pursue them, but the incidents had unnerved some of the crew, and they cast wary glances at the horizon as they sailed on.

‘Canis certainly seems determined to hunt us down,’ Telemachus said quietly.

A cold shiver gripped his spine as he recalled the murderous attacks that the Roman prefect, Caius Canis, had launched on pirate settlements and vessels along the coast. A month earlier, Telemachus had stumbled upon one of the Ravenna squadrons in a secluded bay. His quick thinking had saved his men on that occasion, disguising themselves as fishermen before the Romans closed on them. Next time, he feared, they would not be so fortunate.

‘He’ll give up sooner or later,’ Castor said confidently. ‘I’ve seen plenty of them prefects come and go. A few raids along the coast to please the emperor back in Rome and then they sod off to some choice new posting. You’ll see.’

Telemachus shook his head. ‘Canis is different. You were there, Castor. You heard what he said when he boarded our ship. He won’t rest until he’s put us all to the sword.’

‘I’d say you’ve got more pressing concerns than running into the Romans again,’ Geras cut in.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

The stocky pirate tipped his head in the direction of a cluster of older men near the foredeck. One or two of them glanced at Telemachus as they waited for Trident to draw close to her prey.

‘Hector’s mob aren’t exactly thrilled about your promotion.’

Telemachus nodded tersely, recalling his fight to the death against Hector, the previous first mate. Although he had worked hard since then to demonstrate his loyalty and earn the respect of the crew, several of Hector’s companions continued to harbour a grudge towards him. They had made no attempt to disguise their feelings about the new first mate, glaring at him and muttering behind his back as they went about their duties.

‘Tell me something I don’t know. Besides, I’m not worried about a few disgruntled hands,’ he responded sternly. ‘I’ve faced worse enemies.’

‘That may be so,’ Castor said, running a hand over his smoothly shaven head. ‘But you’d do well to watch yourself around that lot. Especially Virbius. He’s a mean bastard, that one. Not the type to let go of a grudge.’

Telemachus’s gaze automatically fixed on the man Castor had named: a wiry figure with a dark complexion and matted locks beginning to turn grey. Virbius had been Hector’s first mate on Proteus, one of the pirates’ smaller vessels. She had been damaged in a recent storm and her crew had been transferred to Poseidon’s Trident while she was beached for repairs. As he looked on, Virbius caught his eye and worked his lips into a contemptuous sneer.

‘He can think what he likes,’ Telemachus said. ‘I’m still the first mate.’

‘Aye. But it won’t be for long if Virbius and the rest of them lot have their way.’

Telemachus let out a weary sigh. He’d assumed that his problems aboard the ship had ended with Hector’s death, but now he would have to be wary of the men looking for a chance to avenge their fallen comrade. And then there was the constant threat of capture by the Romans. With the increased patrols along the coast, there was a greater possibility of being captured by the enemy, and the grim prospect of torture followed by an agonising death. Life as a pirate was far more perilous than he’d ever imagined.

He swung his gaze back to the merchantman. The sun was already low in the sky, the sea shimmering beneath its. . .