Chapter 21The black fleet sped northward. The Trojans skirted the coastline of Italia for two days, not daring to stop for supplies. As it was, they were going to be lucky if they made it to the realm of the Latins in time. Every man on the benches had to make do with two ladles of water and a hunk of flat bread per day. Heads throbbed and stomachs rumbled. The galleys were moving under oar and sail, but still the going seemed slow to Aeneas. He volunteered to take the tiller himself, feeling the loss of Beroe all the while.
‘Patience,’ said Sergestos at his side. ‘We’ll be there soon enough.’
Aeneas gave no response but a frown. He bit back the urge to bark at the men to row faster. There was no point. As it was, half the crewmen looked as though they would keel over. Tempers were fraye
