Caput VII

***XLVIII***

Agrippa stood high upon the scaffolding. The second half of the canal connecting the new Portus Julius to Lucrinus Lagus had taken laborers exponentially longer than Percy's anger had taken to carve the first half. The Son of Poseidon in question stood knee deep in the water a quarter of a mile away. He found the however was something unexpected. His plan to hide the fleet on the lakes and connect them to the bay with canals had been genius. The only aspect that Agrippa had added was the addition of the Grotta di Cocceio, an expansive tunnel system connecting Cumae with Avernus Lagus. Sheltered from Sextus' roving ships, the fleet was growing within the lakes.

A return of the corvus, the boarding ramp so vital in the wars against Carthage, would allow the marinus to take the fight to the enemy's ships. The marinii, specially trained naval infantry, had been training with Percy. He taught them how to read the waves and know when to fight on the decks and when to brace. The ships without a corvus embarked an invention of Agrippa's own doing. The harpax utilized the ever-present ballista to hurl large grapnels. The iron weapons could not be thrown off by the defending ship and, once again, the marinii would surge across as the ships neared and begin their macabre duty. The harpax was much lighter than the corvus and Agrippa preferred it to the older weapon. Percy's ships would be the opposite. Veterans of the Gaul and Germania campaigns had been brought south and would use the corvus to deliver their swords to the Sextus' shipping.

Agrippa cast his eyes back to the lone figure in the sea below. Agrippa suspected the sea calmed him in the same manner a stroll through fields of grain eased his soul. Inner peace was a rare find for Agrippa. He suspected it was more so for the Son of Poseidon. The sea did not calm itself without turmoil first. He could not begin to imagine what the younger man felt. Agrippa knew from his in Rome that the wife of one of the augurs was healthy post giving birth. His sources informed him that the child of Reyna Messalina Varus could be Octavian's due to his appearance. Due to the increasing melancholy of his trusted commander, Agrippa doubted that.

***XLIX***

Rarely had Percy reached into the part of his being that tied him to Poseidon. Yes, horses spoke to him, and naiads flirted, but the outright control of the sea had never appealed to him. As he stood in it however, he could feel the strength of the waves flow through him. His hand flexed and leagues away the Mare Nostrum curbed to his will.

He could feel Kymopoleia's glee as storms battered the ports of Sicilia. The ships of the self-proclaimed son of Neptune's unbeaten fleet were held in their harbors while their crews prayed unanswered prayers to Neptune. The god remained silent to all. His voice did not speak to his son; his will did not answer the legacy of Fontus who claimed to be his son. For the first time in decades, he could feel his essence being drawn in two; towards Greece in the east and Rome in the west. His son, inexplicably, seemed to contribute to the divide by himself.

Percy breathed deeply. The salt stung his nose, but it invigorated him. The salt water eddied around his bare calves. He wore a very Greek style belt with heavy leather and bronze flaps that fell to mid-thigh. His torso was exposed the sea and wind, its tone dark and rough as a sailor's. Given the time in Rome and now Misenum, his hair was relatively short and his face clean-shaven. His patience with the process was wining. Soon he would again look like the "barbarian Graecus." It amused him that his hair and beard some to grow faster near the sea.

He rotated his neck and the pops as pressure released. The night before had assured him of two things. One, as much as he had attempted to use other women as an antivenom for his growing affection for Reyna, the trio of young women from Misenum failed to assuage the feelings. Second, he was certain Agrippa suspected he was the father of Reyna's child, though the timing surely threw him off. Afterall, they had been in Germania at the time of conception. He also suspected that Agrippa believed his child growing up with another father and the divide between he and it drove him toward his melancholy. This was not the case. The distance between he, the mother, and the son weighed upon him yes, but he understood something Agrippa could not. The boy was better off as a Varus. Octavian would not be a good father, no, but his name and status would grant a quality of life that Percy could not provide. He was a cavalry officer, barely a citizen, and despite Agrippa's assertions to the contrary, not rich. What Agrippa diagnosed as melancholia was little more than exhaustion.

"Sir!" Percy turned slowly, allowing the sea to return to its own devices and looked to the shore. Markos, erstwhile centurion and now marinus, stood on the shore next to a young man. The man appeared to be at least five years younger than Percy, which meant he was at least fifteen younger than Markos. He was tall, at least as tall as Percy and Percy knew the younger man was likely not finished growing. His shoulders were broad and a scar decorated his lip. His complexion was Germanic in appearance. He was lighter skinned than most Romans, and in Percy and Markos' case, Greeks. Eyes that reflected the blue of the sky studied the bare-chested man exiting the sea. Blond hair cut in the Roman standard framed a strong jaw and high cheekbones.

"Who do we have here?"

"Consul Agrippa's compliments, sir." The younger man spoke quickly, Percy identified it as the output of nerves. He sensed something else, however. Something about him seemed familiar. An aura seemed to push back against him, something about the boy disliked his connection to the sea. A stone's throw away, his eyes caught motion as an eagle perched upon a wizened tree. "He requests I join with your crews."

Percy chuckled slightly and smiled. "That bastard there," he nodded toward Markos, "and I have fought at Philippi, Gaul, Germania. I fought in the east as well. The rest of these bastards were in Gaul and Germania, makes them half as good as our boys at Philippi. Does the Consul believe we need assistance?"

"No." The boy is loyal, I'll give him that, Percy thought. Refuses to call out his commander. "The Consul knows I bear a fear of the sea, he believes your side is the best place for such a man." A man then, Percy considered. Atop the tree, the eagle's wings had flared as the blonde-haired Roman spoke of his fear. Maybe they do watch, Percy added.

"Well," he could not help mirroring the conspiratorial smile he knew had been plastered across Agrippa's face. "I suppose that being by my side might grant you some respite from the Sea God." He stepped forward and extended his arm. "What is your name? And," his voice lowered to a level that only the blonde man could hear, "More importantly, who is your father?"

"Jason, and based upon your method of asking, I would suspect that you already know."

***L***

Eudoros, Son of Ares, was dead. A Hyperborean giant, far from his normal home in the north, had appeared. After laying waste to multiple villages the word tricked to Mount Pelion. He and Lukas, Son of Hermes, departed soon afterward. Only Lukas returned. With his power of oration, Lukas had convinced the settlement that two leaders was unneeded. He alone would lead them with Annabeth and her newly discovered brother as his advisors.

It had been this brother that presented the absurd theory. "Isn't it convenient that Eudoros died fighting a monster and no one saw it? And that the survivor was the man to benefit most from his demise." Annabeth had dismissed the theory outright, after all, she knew him. She would not make such an illogical judgement.

With the surprisingly pacifist voice of Eudoros gone, planning began in earnest for a potential rebellion. They believed the best opportunity would present itself when the Romans inevitably went to war with themselves again. Annabeth predicted it would be fought between Caesar and Antonius. They would fight upon the land. The Greeks would need to be prepared to take the war to the seas. Cut off Rome from their grain supply in Egypt and they would appear at the negotiating table. She smiled despite herself. Athena always has a plan.

***LI***

Left, right, left, leap. Lucius Cornelius Jason epitomized the perfect Roman. Gladius and scutum in hand the Son of Jupiter seemed at ease as he flew across the gap between Praefectus Classis Perseus' hexareme and the smaller Pompeiian quadrireme. The hexareme was the largest in the fleet, yet Agrippa entrusted its command to Perseus and not himself. Jason had seen why earlier, but now as his galea shrouded vision lifted from the oaken deck to the Pompeiian marinii surrounding him he drive it from his mind. He looked back to his own ship and saw Perseus in the prow shaking his head and laughing. The ship was still fifteen meters away. Might have overdone it, he thought and angled his sword toward the shocked soldiers around him. Much like Perseus, he carried iron weapons to combat men and hidden ones capable of killing monsters.

Even as the hexareme closed with Pompeiian ship, Jason struck out with his gladius. The blade plunged into the exposed throat of a shocked marinus. As the blood splattered to the deck, Jason spun with the scutum toward a soldierand watched as the force of the blow hurled the man over the side. The world seemed to shudder as the prow of the larger ship slammed into the flank of its opponent. As the soldiers around him staggered, months of training under the Praefectus Classis allowed Jason to keep his footing. As one man staggered towards him, Jason arrested his momentum with the gladius. The blade plunged to the hilt. Percy leapt from the prow of the hexareme and landed beside the Son of Jupiter.

"A bit obvious, when one jumps forty feet." Jason did not have time to react before the heavy corvus dropped into the quinquereme's deck and Markos led his detachment of marinii into the small maelstrom of a melee. The close quarters battle been part of the plan from the beginning. The infantry, their skills honed from years of fighting in Gaul and Germania, surpassed their opponents. Sextus' fleet was better. Agrippa and Caesar reluctantly accepted that; Jason had watched Percy state it outright before recommending that their larger ships out muscle their opponents. His willingness to state the facts that the politically minded officers would not seemed refreshing to Jason. Sextus' fleet was mostly smaller and quicker ships. They would attempt to outmaneuver the lumbering Caesarian vessels and avoid direct conflict.

A sword swinging past his face woke Jason from his thoughts. He swung his own sword before again striking an opponent with his shield and thrusting toward another. The stunned man stared at the hand holding the sword that lodged in his chest. In the time it took Jason to extract the sword, he watched the Son of Poseidon send three men to Hades. The twin swords flashed, and men died. Jason admitted he was not overly experienced in war. He was, after all, the most junior of the tribuni angusticlavii. But as he watched, the two swords continued to carve through the clearly over classed infantrymen on the ship's deck. The man kills with such ease. Is this truly the gods' will, he thought, that their children end men's lives in pursuit of another man's ambition? He did not linger on it as the gladius again opened a man's veins and crimson sprayed into the air.

Hours later, he stood at the stern of the hexareme. Mylae slowly receded into the distance behind them. The survivors of Sextus' fleet had escaped into a series of shoals that the larger vessels could not follow them into. Jason suspected that Percy could have done something about that, but he had elected against it. Jason thought about the Greek-born man Agrippa had named as a commander. It had not taken long for Jason to realize his father was the Sea God. It had taken a while to decipher that the Sea God in question was not Neptune. As Jason had lied about his age, the man was five years older than he, just twenty-three. But all five of those years as a soldier, Jason thought. Watching the man fight was an invitation to watch Mors at work. Jason knew he was a gifted fighter, partly due to his upbringing in the senatorial Cornelius family and he suspected in no small part due to his true father, Iuppiter Fulminator, Jupiter Bringer of Lightning. Praefectus Classis Perseus, however, could end lives with the same ease he assumed Achilles once could. It was not a complimentary comparison. The Greeks may laud Achilles as a great warrior, to the Romans he was something different. According to Jason's father's friend, Publius Vergilius Maro, Achilles represented nothing more than a savage and merciless butcher of men.

But, he reminded himself, No one introduces him as Perseus son of Poseidon or son of Neptune. Agrippa had bestowed upon him a rank he did not rate, and no one complained. They merely called him praefectus and followed his orders. There was no Lucius Cornelius Jason, Son of Jupiter; there was merely Praefectus Perseus. And that Jason envied.

"What troubles you, boy?" Jason turned to find the officer with a single Greek name approaching him.

"I've never seen lives mean so little. We destroyed thirty ships. We lost five. How many thousands of men died today?"

Percy looked at the smoky haze, all that remained of far too many ships. "Not enough." Jason turned to him shocked.

"What?!"

"Not enough to end this war."

***LII***

The victory at Mylae meant little just days later as sixty ships of Caesar's fleet were destroyed during his landing at Tauromenium. Caesar was wounded and full command of the fleet passed to Marcus Agrippa. However, thousands of soldiers now roamed the Sicilian hinterlands, reports flowed to Agrippa from Lepidus on Sicilia and Caesar near Rhegium. Eventually, over twenty legions would be available to Octavian. Knowing that Sextus' position grew perilous, after several weeks of repairs, Agrippa set forth with his fleet of three hundred ships. All this and more Marcus Antonius learned from his deputy, Titus Statilius Taurus. The reports did little to quell the rage he felt at the 32,000 Roman bodies that had not returned from his invasion of Parthia.

"Bloody fucking Armenian bastards. Fucking abandon me and my boys pay for it." Beside him, Flavius said little. Nearly half his Batavi horseman were dead in this mismanaged clusterfuck of an operation. I'm sure his Egyptian whore will provide more money for another attempt soon. What Flavius feared more than the inevitable invasion of Armenia, however, was the growing animosity between Caesar and Antonius. Antonius flippantly disgraced Caesar's sister in his continued affair with the Ptolemaian queen. Just years before, Antonius' own relatives had rebelled against Caesar.

If Romans were half as good at killing foreigners as they were at killing each other, we'd own the fucking world by now. Flavius returned his attention to Antonius who had already began spouting off his plan for the next invasion of the east.

***LIII***

The creak of wooden oars filled the early morning. Thousands of men groaned and growled as the oars bit deeply into the dark water. Three hundred ships moved across the dark seas of the Mare Nostrum. Within moments of their departure of the ports near Mylae the smell of sweat and fear rose from those under the main deck. More of the ships had been fitted with Agrippa's harpax, an improvement from the corvus. The hexareme, carving through the waters at a speed that Jason did not believe possible until he looked to Percy standing on the rail, maintained its corvus. Across the waters off Naulochus, Sextus' fleet, three hundred further ships offering prayers to Neptune. Six hundred ships now faced each other across the waves.

Percy was already tired, and battle had yet to commence. Despite his understanding that the sea could provide strength, currently he was pushing more than he received. The currents off Naulochus answered to him. He pushed them as needed to assemble Agrippa's ships. The average sailor would never see the difference but those old and wizened could tell the seas were different this morning. Percy knew he could not produce a storm powerful enough to affect the enemy without endangering his own compatriots. He knew he could produce the storm; he did not know if he could control it.

It appeared to his eye that the Pompeiians ships included a larger number of the heavier vessels absent off Mylae. The bastard can learn at least, Percy thought as he looked down the long row of warships. No longer was the ship he stood upon the only hexareme. Nearly two dozen of the large vessels anchored the large oaken wall that now stood opposite Sextus. Nearly a mile away, Agrippa stood upon the forecastle of another hexareme.

In the distance a horn sounded. Soon the trumpet call echoed along the line. With each iteration, more ships surged forward. Percy looked to the master of the vessel upon which he stood. He nodded and the drums began to throb from under the decks as hundreds of men again bent their backs over the oars. Sweat and other fluids ran the depth of the hold as the oarsmen perspired and relieved themselves upon the benches that served as their place of duty until the end of the battle. They sat in three rows with two men per oar. Ninety oars per side gave the hexareme a rowing crew of three hundred and sixty, more than that of the larger quinqueremes. Twenty additional crewmen managed the deck while Percy led one hundred and twenty-five marinii. The extra men with the same number of oars gave the hexareme an advantage in speed.

Those benches, however, would see their efforts and their deaths should enemy vessels attempt to ram them. There was no escape from the labyrinthine underdecks. Dark water would froth and roar as it filled the cavernous hold and as Neptune claimed the ship he would gain their lives as well. As had long been and would always be, there were few wounded in a naval battle. There were those that lived above and those that sank beneath the waves for eternity. These men would row until their bodies gave out or they won. Twenty thousand slaves had been freed to man the oars. The only chance the wretches had to enjoy freedom was to survive the battles they powered.

Thirty yards to Percy's left, Lucius Cornelius Jason matched his position in the prow of a lower built quadrireme. Despite his protests, after his performance at Mylae Percy had seen it prudent to promote the young officer to command the detachment of marinii upon the smaller ship. Some had grumbled that he was not old enough for the position, Percy's retort was that "Well I wasn't born well enough, but here I am." Just as Percy left the ship's master in his position of authority, Jason did the same, limiting his control to the battle and direction of the seventy-five foot soldiers and missile troops. Percy looked forward as sea spray doused the ship's prow. Below him swordsmen gripped lifelines, while in the towers archers and javelin throwers prepared their weapons. Forward of their position, a Pompeiian quadrireme shot ahead of its peers. A first victim, Percy thought. Missiles from the catapults and ballista mounted on the great warships began to fly through the air.

"Ship Master! Ram him!" Percy pointed toward the quadrireme. The ship's master saluted and began to issue orders. Below decks, the drums picked up their pace as three hundred and sixty men increased the tempo of their pulls. The one hundred and eighty oars bit deeply into the sea and the ship surged forward of its compatriots. The distance between them closed from over five hundred yards to barely sixty. Percy could see the Pompeiian marinii preparing for battle. He would give them no chance.

"BRACE!" the ship's master shouted and all of the men above decks dropped to a knee and gripped the safety lines. The drummers began to the beat the cadence for "ramming speed" and the hexareme began its final sprint. Percy closed his eyes and willed the water to speed their passage. He received just a few moments of near full ease from the waves before with a great crash of metal and wood, the ram on the fore of the hexareme carved deeply into the smaller vessel. To his side, Percy saw the quadrireme's mast, meaning the larger ship had cut the poor bastard nearly in half.

"Archer's fire! Ship Master, reverse course!" Missiles flew through the air. With the groan of wood grating against wood, the heavy ship began to fight its own momentum and back out of its foe. As the great prow disengaged though, water took its place, and a deluge quickly filled the holds. Percy could hear men's shouts of panic and dismay, but he pushed them aside and turned to find another victim. Already Agrippa's invention, the harpax, showered the Pompeiian ships. Iron hooks and cables began to drag the ships together into a melee. It was in this type of battle that the veterans of Gaul and Germania could turn to their butcher's work. Only now did Percy look to his left again. Jason's ship was locked into combat with a Pompeiian combatant. On the ship's opposite flank however, another of the Pompeiian quadriremes came about with its ram toward the near stationary vessel.

***LIV***

Jason bashed his shield into the face of one of the fighters. Already flames grew in the rigging of the Pompeiian vessel lashed to their side. The deck, however, resembled the bloody sands of the Amphitheatre of Pompeii following gladiatorial games. Blood of nearly two dozen dead or wounded covered the decks. Jason added to the carnage as he slashed the gladius in his hand across the exposed back of an enemy fighter. The man seized and fell to his knees, at which point he grated the blade into the man's throat. Blood covered his armor and arms. He felt an arrow spark off of his galea and spun in time to see a second warship barreling toward his own. He attempted to manipulate the wind but was unsure of its success.

A burning jar of pitch fell to the deck and exploded, its contents raising a conflagration on the wooden decks. Jason found himself beset on three sides. Ducking behind his shield, he caught two blows upon it. The third strike cut into this upper arm, but he ignored it and drove the gladius into the ribcage of the third man. The ships rocked as the inbound vessel struck the Roman ship. Its prow ram struck the Roman ship at an angle, shearing off oars, but not penetrating its hull.

Jason smashed the rim of his scutum into the foot of one of his assailants, even as blows landed on his armor. As the man fell Jason dropped the shield and ripped his sword from his hand. Slashing violently at the back of the falling man's neck he hacked at the final fighter's arm until the limb gave way and fell to the deck. With one man's head nearly detached, Jason flipped the blade, reversing the grip on his gladius and driving it through the man's mouth as he stared with it open at his missing limb. As flames continued to grow on this vessel, Jason turned back to his own to see oarsmen rushing up from the holds with whatever weapons they could find to fight off the enemy boarders.

Suddenly a great shadow fell across the deck. Jason looked up to see the massive corvus of Percy's hexareme smash through the decks of the aflame ship. He watched Percy leap from the prow and with his landing drive an enemy fighter into the deck with his feet, the man's cranium giving way to the force. Across the corvus nearly two score of infantrymen led by Markos surged onto the deck. Percy was closing on Jason's position. He watched him use his right sword to knock a blow to his left side. Quickly as lightning, the left hand spatha shot out and both blades rested on the shoulders of his enemy. His hands were nearly on top of each other and the muscles of his arms flexed as he ripped them apart and the blades decapitated the man. A second fighter attempted to take advantage of his position and thrust toward him, Jason watched Percy turn slightly and the blade missed. With a nearly effortless motion the Greek opened the heavy flowing arteries of the soldiers arm and blood began to run. Jason punched his scutum into the chest of a soldier and followed it with a short thrust into his abdomen that he followed with a ripping motion to the right. The man's organs fell to the deck and their owner followed them, attempting to return them to their rightful place.

"How goes it, cousin?" Percy asked upon his arrival at Jason's side, his tone betraying none of the chaos and destruction around them.

"The sea is not my place!" Jason shouted in answer even as his gladius cut through the neck of a Pompeiian sailor.

"Blast it! It's same as cavalry, when in fucking doubt, attack!" The two children of the elder gods danced about the deck. Before them men fell one after another. As sailors began to race up the gangways, it became clear the fire had spread to the below decks. "Return to your ship. Beat back the boarders, we'll drag this burning fucker away and force it into their ranks." A series of commands later, soldiers from both Caesarian ships rushed back to their vessels. Twenty marinii under Markos joined Jason in the battle to regain control of his vessel. The lines connecting the burning ship and Jason's were cut and instead of lifting the corvus, Percy used it to drag away the stricken ship.

***LV***

Across the sea of death, Agrippa watched as the heavy hexareme commanded by his Praefectus Classis appeared to hurl a flaming Pompeiian ship across the waves. Already, dozens of enemy vessels had surrendered or been sunk. Throughout the battlespace, pillars of flames marked the vessels stricken by any sailor's second greatest fear. For just as eternal as the lack of wounded in naval casualty figures was the ranked fear of flooding and fire aboard ship.

The flaming ship shot toward the parts of the Pompeiian navy not committed to the battle. Agrippa watched the hexareme come about and close upon another enemy vessel. Even from the distance, Agrippa could see the ship moving at greater speeds than any oar powered ship should have been able to. Fucking Son of Poseidon, Agrippa thought and remembered the commandership of Antonius from Philippi. He looked to the master of his ship.

"Enough hanging back, put us into this fight."

On the coast several miles away, Imperator Caesar looked out to the melee of ships. As loathe as he was to admit inferiority, Agrippa and his damned Son of Poseidon subordinate were by far the superior naval commanders. Well, I would bloody hope so. He is a damned Son of Poseidon after all. He wished the men could see him closer to the battle, but the time necessary to take him to the ships was time that would have delayed this fight.

Officially, he now went by the name Imperator Caesar. But those that had long known him would not let the name of his uncle pass away. To them he would at most remain Gaius Julius Caesar Octavianus, adopted son of Julius Caesar. He would prove them all wrong. He would earn his name. He would ensure history remembered his name, not just the nephew of Julius Caesar. Whatever it takes.

***LVI***

Fires raged amongst the Pompeiian ships. At least a score of their vessels had succumbed to the rams of the Caesarian fleet and their skeletons now decorated the ocean floor. Again, Jason and Percy's vessels had attacked both sides of an enemy quadrireme. Caesarian boarders invaded the small area of Pompeiian control, and the bloodletting began anew.

Jason felt little but the resistance of the soldier's lorica hamata as he plunged the gladius deep into the torso of the opposing fighter. He, following the example of his superior officer, committed to being the first man across the rail and onto the enemy vessel. Perseus did not suffer ordering a man to potential death without entering that same peril. Another man rushed toward Jason and using his scutum he threw the man aside to the shrinking gap of water between the two opposing vessels. Jason heard the man's screams as the two sixty-ton vessels crushed the man between them.

Between the two ships, the number of marinii was lopsided. Collectively, the two attacking forces quickly overwhelmed the defenders. This ship was not set alight and soon its master surrendered. Jason and Percy looked to each other as the remaining fighters began to drop their weapons. The dead were unceremoniously dumped over the side.

"Praefectus!" Percy turned to a watcher. The corvus had been raised and only lines separated the ships. The watchman's arm was extended toward a retreating ship. A hexareme like Perseus', it flew the personal banner of Sextus Pompeius Magnus Pius.

"Jason, with me," he ordered. "Markos, take care of this ship." At a sprint, he took off, Jason mere steps behind him. Less than three minutes later, the hexareme shuddered as it began to move. In addition to the oarsmen, the sail was released. The men below deck were exhausted. For hours not they had broken their bodies on the oars and once again, they were being asked to exert themselves for even greater speeds. More than a few of them entertained thoughts of If I die of exhaustion, what use was my freedom. The drum continued to beat faster and with it, the oarsmen continued to beat the water.

The ship being pursued, undamaged due to its commander prioritizing his personal safety to that of his fleet, slowly began to increase its lead. Its rowers were not tired and its master content to live. Tribune Lucius Cornelius Jason watched as the enemy of Rome seemed primed for escape. "Sir, we won't catch him."

"We don't have to," the green-eyed commander said simply, and Jason watched as his hand flexed wide upon the railing. A rumble began to rise from the sea around them and soon Jason saw its source. A wave, far larger than any around it, swelled as white foam began to froth at its crest. The wave sped forward, closing the distance. Soon the fleeing vessel vanished from sight. Jason watched the commander flip his wrist.

Before them, the many tons of water, driven by some divine force plummeted toward the surface. It's weight alone would have overpowered the ships buoyancy had its mass not broken the ship's spine. The keel snapped and water rapidly filled the wooden hull. The screams of the oarsmen below lasted but a second before they were sucked under the dark waters of the Mare Nostrum.

"By the gods." Muttered a crewman near the two officers.

"One of them anyway," the commander said coldly.

Jason turned to the ship's master. "Forward we will search for Sextus amongst the survivors." In the distance they could see the dots of bobbing heads.

"Noble, but unnecessary. Look over the side, Tribune." Jason followed the commander's hand and to his horror saw scores of dorsal fins racing toward the panicked motions of the survivors.

Jason spun to his commander, "But what if he is the son of Neptune?"

"Then he's a lesser one."

"And what are you?"

"Apparently more of what he claimed to be than he was." Fresh screams began to echo across the water as Perseus ordered a break for the rowers and the ship proceeded on sail power alone.