Marius' Mules XII by S.J.A. Turney

Author:S.J.A. Turney
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: war, rome, roman, legion, caesar, cleopatra
Publisher: S.J.A. Turney

Chapter Fifteen

Fronto’s head snapped back and forth between the army flooding back through the fort and the disaster at the port.

He’d seen Caesar’s ship sink, crashing through the jetty and taking hundreds of souls with it, but he’d also seen the general dive into the water at the last moment. He knew that, as senior officer at the forefront of battle, his duty was to oversee the withdrawal here, but he could not help but watch the harbour debacle, for the consul’s survival was critical.

Without Caesar, why were they here. What would they do?

His gaze scoured the dock side for a quarter of a mile. Aegyptian units were now in complete control of the port, and the few Romans he could see were either rolling around on the ground clutching deadly injuries, or were being herded away as prisoners by whooping natives. The ships had pulled away into the harbour now, or most of them had, anyway. Of the twelve ships berthed at the quayside, two were lost to the deep, one already only visible as masts jutting from the surface, the other caught up in the ruined jetty and lying on its side. A third remained docked, though now under enemy control and swarming with Aegyptians.

Nine were pulling back out across the water, packed with fleeing Romans. It was an ignominious sight, for certain. Not one that Fronto felt Caesar would put in his missives to send back to his adoring public in Rome. At least, not unless he could yet turn the tide and make it glorious, as he had done between Dyrrachium and Pharsalus, or Gergovia and Alesia.

Finally, his heart thumping, Fronto caught sight of the general. The shape of Caesar was visible among dozens of other Romans swimming through the waters. Many soldiers who had plummeted into the harbour had drowned before they could remove their chain shirts, and others were already struggling with the weight of their other gear, occasionally dipping beneath the surface. Most would not make it to safety.

Even as Fronto watched, tense, Caesar, struggling to swim in his bronze cuirass, suddenly disappeared beneath the gentle waves of the harbour. He held his breath, staring at the water, and felt a surge of despair as that glorious crimson cloak suddenly bobbed up to the open air. He almost exploded with relief when a moment later Caesar broke the surface once more, having managed to struggle out of his cuirass in the deep. Treading water while regaining his breath, the white-clad consul gathered his red cloak under his arm and began to swim, arm windmilling and feet kicking, carrying him further and further from danger.

Still, it was a mile to the safe shore, and the ships in between were busy. It was a long way. A young, fit legionary would have difficulty with such a task, let alone a man of fifty some years. His gaze slipped ahead and he realised with a little relief that Brutus had finally got the better of the smaller Aegyptian vessels.

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