Pirata: The Pirate Chief

Book 5: Pirata

by Simon Scarrow, T.J. Andrews

Genres: General Fiction; Ancient; Historical Fiction

Synopsis

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

AD 25. Mighty Rome is reclaiming control of the pirate-haunted seas, endangering the livelihoods of the pirate crews. Despite their hard-won fighting skills, the pirates are losing. Until one man, a black flag captain like no others, steps in to challenge the Roman enemy ...

A vast fleet of pirate ships has gathered, black pennants fluttering in the breeze. On board are men who would slit each other's throats rather than work together. They have sailed from all directions, reluctant and suspicious, at the request of the notorious pirate Telemachus, the new captain of the Poseidon's Trident. They come in honour of the fallen Bulla, Telemachus's predecessor, not for the young upstart. But Telemachus has a message they can't ignore. The Ravenna fleet, under the command of the ruthless Prefect Canis, has destroyed their trade and devastated many of their hideouts. Once the prevailing sea power, the brotherhood of pirates now live in fear.

Telemachus has a bold plan: rather than flee or hide, attack. Fighting is in the pirates' blood. If they can entice the warships out of Ravenna, the pirate force will outnumber the remaining Romans. Then, anything is possible. For every pirate present, there's a glimpse of a future ruling the waves again. And for Telemachus, the chance to save his brother Nereus, languishing in a Roman cell. Do or die, with nothing to lose ...

The full novel of PIRATA is available now.

(P)2019 Headline Publishing Group Ltd

Release date: May 16, 2019

Publisher: Headline

Print pages: 84

Sample

Chapter One

Petrapylae, summer AD 25

It was late in the afternoon when the first pirate ships sailed into the bay. Telemachus, captain of Poseidon’s Trident, stood a short distance up from the beach and gazed out at the sleek vessels as they rounded the headland, their black pennants fluttering like crows in the breeze. A small party of pirates had gathered beside him, their cloaks pulled tight across their chests as they waited to greet the new arrivals. Some of the crew muttered among themselves, while others wore looks of apprehension at the prospect of welcoming strangers to their base. Despite the oppressive heat of the late summer, the sky was grey and forbidding.

‘Are you sure you know what you’re doing, Captain?’ Geras asked.

Telemachus turned to his burly first mate at his side and frowned. ‘Doing?’

‘Inviting this lot here,’ Geras replied, waving a hand at the approaching vessels. ‘I know we’re short of men and ships, but how do we know we can trust any of these other gangs? You know as well as I do that some of them would sooner slit each other’s throats than work together.’

Telemachus pursed his lips and returned his gaze to the bay. Ten days had passed since he had sent out two of the ships under his command to summon the pirate gangs of Illyricum to a meeting at Petrapylae. Several pirate crews operated out of the islands and havens scattered along the coastline, the locations of their bases known to a handful of Trident’s longest-serving men. A feast was to be held on the beach, and then Telemachus would detail the latest incursions on their trade by the Roman navy, together with his thoughts on how they should respond. The decision to invite the other captains had been met with disbelief and anger by some of his men, but Telemachus had argued that they had no choice but to try and recruit further ships to their cause. Between them, should they agree to work together, they would have enough vessels to take on the Roman squadron at Ravenna. As soon as the first sails were sighted, Telemachus had left his private quarters and made his way down to the beach to greet his fellow captains.

Now, as the ships neared, he glanced anxiously over his shoulder at the crumbling citadel, erected on a spit of rock not far from the beach. Tendrils of smoke rose from the incendiaries mounted on platforms above the battlements, whirling into the late-afternoon sky. Although the pirate captains had correctly identified themselves to the lookout station, Telemachus was taking no chances and had ordered the artillery crews to remain ready to shoot at the first sign of treachery. The memory of a recent ambush, when Roman marines had disguised themselves aboard a pirate ship, was still fresh in his mind.

‘What exactly are you hoping to achieve, Captain?’ Geras asked.

‘I’ve explained already,’ Telemachus replied, a trace of irritation creeping into his voice. ‘We can’t take on the Romans by ourselves. We need the support of the other crews.’

‘That may be so, but these self-interested bastards ain’t likely to go along with our proposal. Not unless there’s something in it for them. Besides, it didn’t end well the last time we worked with another crew.’

‘Thanks for reminding me,’ Telemachus replied tersely.

‘Just saying, Captain.’

Telemachus looked away, recalling the dangerous raids Trident had carried out on the Italian coastline with another pirate ship, Pegasus. After an initial flurry of successes, the crews had been attacked by a Roman squadron. Dozens of Trident’s crew had been killed or wounded before they escaped from the enemy. Their late captain, Bulla, had died of his injuries, but not before he had announced Telemachus as his successor. A decision that had been greeted with resentment by several of the more experienced men on the crew.

Telemachus turned his gaze back to the horizon and sighed heavily. ‘We’ve got to try, at least,’ he said. ‘Building up a fleet is our only hope of reclaiming the Adriaticum from that bastard Canis. If we allow him to seize control of the sea lanes, our days will be numbered.’

‘Are you sure that’s your only reason for trying to recruit this lot to our ranks?’

Telemachus gave his friend a searching look. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

Geras glanced around, then leaned in closer so that the other mates wouldn’t overhear. ‘Everyone knows it ain’t long until the Romans execute that brother of yours.’

Telemachus winced at the mention of his older brother. Over a month had passed since Nereus had been taken prisoner by Prefect Canis, seized from his Roman master at the forge where he had been working. In ten days he would be put to death, unless Telemachus surrendered himself to the authorities.

‘I know you’re desperate to free him,’ Geras went on quietly. ‘But some of the lads are starting to wonder whether you’re putting your brother’s rescue over the needs of the crew. At the moment it’s only a few of ’em who are saying anything, but I thought you should know.’

‘What are they saying, exactly?’

Geras shrugged. ‘Just that we might be rushing into this whole business of building up a fleet. Some of them think we might be better off lying low for a while. Waiting until things calm down, like.’

‘And what do you think, Geras?’

‘Maybe they’ve got a point.’ The first mate saw the dark expression on Telemachus’s face and raised his hands. ‘Look, I’m as keen as you are to give the Romans a good kicking. Gods know they deserve it, after what they’ve done to us. But have you considered what will happen if this plan of yours fails? Any support you’ve got among the crew will disappear faster than an empty seat at the Circus Maximus.’

‘I swore I’d do everything I could to rescue Nereus. If there’s a chance to save him, I have to take it.’

‘Assuming he’s still alive.’

‘He is. I know it.’

‘Even if that’s true, you’ve got a fight on your hands persuading this lot that you’re not needlessly risking their lives for the sake of your brother.’ Geras jerked a thumb in the direction of Trident’s crew.

‘I’ll handle the men. Leave them to me.’

‘Gladly.’ Geras puffed out his cheeks and shook his head. ‘Leader of a pirate gang. More bloody trouble than it’s worth if you ask me. Give me the simple pleasures of life any day.’

Telemachus looked at his comrade. Although they had very different tastes and opinions, the two pirates shared a genuine friendship, and it had been an easy decision to appoint Geras as his second in command. He was loyal and dependable, and more selfishly, his easy-going nature and popularity among the men would also prove valuable in winning over some of the more sceptical members of the crew. Despite the numerous difficulties that Telemachus had inherited upon taking command of Poseidon’s Trident, he was glad that he had Geras by his side.

His eyes turned back to the bay as the crew on the nearest vessel took in the sail and ran out the sweep oars to make their final approach. After a few moments the blades began rising and dipping in a steady pattern, driving her towards the shingle. Half a dozen sails were in sight now, with the more distant ships only just visible as they cleared the point.

As Telemachus watched, the closest ship reached the waters of the anchorage and a series of orders were shouted across the deck. A moment later, the sweeps were taken in and the anchor was dropped over the stern. There was a brief pause before the ship’s boat was lowered overside and a pair of oarsmen rowed the short distance to the shoreline. The boat ground to a halt before the four men in the rear clambered down into the shallows. Telemachus watched them disembark and then glanced at Geras.

‘Time to greet our guests.’

‘Great,’ Geras muttered. ‘Can’t bloody wait.’

Telemachus led the welcoming party down the beach, the shingle crunching beneath their soft leather boots. Ahead of them, the new arrivals made their way through the gentle surf, looking around the beach with suspicion. Three of the burly pirates stopped a few paces away from Trident’s crew and spread out, their hands clasped around the handles of their belted swords and daggers. An older man stepped forward, dressed in a leather jerkin and breeches. Gold rings gleamed on each of his gnarled fingers.

‘Welcome, friend!’ Telemachus declared as he extended his hand to the grey-haired figure. ‘Welcome to Petrapylae.’

The pirate eyed Telemachus’s hand warily without shaking it. Behind him, two more ships had drawn nearer to the shoreline and were also lowering their sails.

‘Who the fuck are you?’ he rasped.

‘My name is Telemachus. Captain of Poseidon’s Trident, and chief of the pirates here. Since the death of Bulla.’

‘Bulla’s dead?’ A look of surprise flashed across the pirate’s face. ‘And now yo. . .