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‘All hands to deck!’ called the bearded captain in his blue cloak, as Gia and the others rushed to secure the ship.

A sailor retrieved a wet coil of tangled ropes, salted and crusted from the sea. Shouting directions back and forth, they stretched them over the crates, crisscrossing them to form a net, as the ship continued to sway. Cold spray slapped Claudia in the face as she fumbled to tie her rope to the rail, her frozen fingers numb and slippery. Rectina worked the other side, securing it against the post that connected the ship’s drawbridge.

The wind howled, tearing at Claudia’s clothes. Her shawl, only loosely secured around her waist, flapped away like a giant bird. She watched it go, soaring over the waves and out of sight.

Everyone was thrown into motion by the rocking of the boat, flung across the deck and smashing into each other, like a chaotic partner dance to the symphony of screaming and crashing and creaking.

A rope snapped, causing a sail to swing directly towards her.

‘Claudia!’ sounded Gia’s voice.

She ducked, narrowly avoiding a collision, but she was launched backwards by the violent bounce of the boat hitting another wave, slipping and skidding onto her hands and knees, sliding towards the stern.

Gia stumbled after her, struggling to stay upright.

Just as they reached each other, a shear of lightning illuminated the sky, closer and brighter than before, accompanied by a thunderous rumble. When another bolt tore through the darkness, all those aboard gasped, shielding their eyes from the brilliantly bright glare.

CRACK.

The sky split open. The lightning stretched, crackling and sparkling as it formed the unmistakable shape of Jupiter’s staff.

‘No,’ Claudia breathed, the words lost under the waves.

A third bolt of lightning struck out like a sword, lancing the ship with a roar. Flames ignited with a whoosh, blazing heat rippling through the air. Passengers fell to their knees, while others attempted to push and shove their way to the other end of the boat.

Claudia screamed without sound, she and Gia stumbling backwards as fire consumed the wooden deck, growing rapidly. It ate through another rope, sending a second ragged sail plummeting. The mast toppled, knocking several sailors into the sea.

Another wave crashed over the ship, returning the sailors who had been swept overboard, but the remaining sail caught fire, growing wings of flame that burned through the dark.

‘It is Jupiter’s fire,’ said Claudia. ‘It cannot be extinguished.’

‘I thought the gods were forbidden to show themselves directly to mortals,’ said Gia.

‘He is breaking the rules of the pantheon, to send us a warning,’ said Claudia with dread.

Gia shepherded her towards the trapdoor, trying to hustle them below deck, but a stream of terrified oarsmen poured out as the lower portion of the boat began filling with water.

‘We’re going down!’ someone cried.

‘The ship is sinking!’ yelled the captain.

Everyone began shouting in raw, carnal horror.

‘What should we do?’ cried Gia.

Claudia remembered that she was, at least by a technicality, the empress of Rome. She was in charge now, and that simple fact was terrifying. She had to do something, not just out of moral or philosophical duty but governmental, monarchic, goddess-blessed duty.

‘I… I don’t…’

Claudia gazed at Gia blankly as lightning rained down like golden arrows fired by an army of godly soldiers, striking the surface and creating little jets of boiling water.

‘Claudia?’

She had to do something, but what?

Without the sails, they had only the oars to direct them, yet the oarsmen had fled their duties as the ship began to sink.

‘We need to steer away from the storm,’ she told the shaken captain, grabbing an oar as it floated across the deck and throwing it to Gia.