The Gladiator (42 page)

‘But I’m afraid.’

‘And so am I,’ Macro admitted. ‘But you can choose not to let them use it against you. That is the only way we can defy Ajax at the moment. So, chin up and keep a brave face on for those bastards over there.’

‘I’ll try.’ Macro sensed a shadow at his shoulder and then a voice spoke close to his ear. ‘Fine words, Centurion. We’ll see how brave you can be when the time comes to do to you what you did to my father.’

Ajax moved round to the end of the cage and squatted down where they could both see him. He had a chicken leg in one hand and raised it to his mouth to take a bite.Then his nose wrinkled and he tossed the leg to one side. Almost at once, a pair of seagulls whirled down and began to fight over the meat, pecking away at each other savagely.

‘You stink, the pair of you. More than enough to put me off my food.’ He stared at his captives for a moment and sneered. ‘Who would believe that two such disgusting examples of humanity could belong to the great Roman empire? You are like swine, rolling in your own filth. I wonder what your emperor would say if he could see you now? And you, woman, what would your father, the governor, think if he beheld you now as I do? I would not blame him if he disowned you. After all, you are not fit for decent company. And that’s before I let my men loose on you.’

Macro saw Julia recoil at the thought, pressing herself into the far corner of the cage. Ajax laughed at her reaction and Macro felt a surge of rage sweep through his veins.

‘You leave the girl alone, you bastard! If you want your fun, then take it out on me. She’s just a girl. But me? I’m a centurion, a man of the legions. I’m your challenge, Ajax. Try and break me, if you dare.’

Ajax had an amused expression on his face during Macro’s outburst, and he shook his head mockingly. ‘It’s as I thought. The best fun to be had is in letting you watch the governor’s daughter die first, in front ofyour eyes. Something for you to dwell on before we come for you, Centurion. Then, while you are left to rot on the cross, you’ll have plenty of time to remember what happened to her. And you’ll know it’s all your fault. If you had not killed my father and sold me into slavery, none of us would be here now’

‘If your father had not been a murdering pirate bastard then I would not have had to crucify him in the first place.’ Macro smiled. ‘Credit where credit is due, eh, sunshine?’

For a moment Ajax’s features froze into a mask of bitter hatred, then he breathed in and took control of his feelings with a slow smile. ‘I think I might just nail you to the crosspiece in person, Macro.Yes, I think I should like that a great deal.’

‘Is that what you are keeping us for? I thought it was because we might be useful hostages.’

‘Oh yes, that was the reason once. But then the girl’s father decided that stubborn defiance was a greater virtue than paternal affection. And now I have hostages infinitely more valuable than you two.’Ajax edged to one side and gestured towards the captured ships. ‘At one stroke I have the power to feed Rome, or let her starve. Once the emperor knows that I have his grain fleet, he will have to discuss terms with me.’

N o w it was Macro’s turn to sneer. ‘And what makes you think he should bother with you? Those are Roman warships outside the bay. You cannot escape with those cargo ships, and you cannot defend them adequately ifthey remain in the bay.The navy will pick its own time, then sail in bold as brass and take those ships from you.’

‘Really? You must think I was born yesterday,’ Ajax mocked him. ‘Those warships will not dare to enter the bay, because the moment they do, I shall give the order to burn the grain fleet. So, my dear friends, you can see the situation for yourselves. I have got your emperor by the balls. Sadly, that makes you two little more than a detail, an entertainment, and the time is fast approaching when I will have no further need of you.’

Cato gave orders for the camp to be constructed on the high ground overlooking Olous as the column completed the fourth day’s march. The auxiliaries advanced a short way down the slope to form a protective screen while the legionaries set down their march- ing yokes, took up their pickaxes and shovels and began to dig into the stony ground. It was hot and the work was back-breaking after a hard day’s march, but it was part of the daily routine while on campaign, and aside from the usual grumbling the men carried out their work efficiently. By the time the sun had set behind the hills to the west, a ditch surrounded the camp, within which a rampart and palisade provided adequate defence against any attempt at a surprise attack.

Once the camp was ready, the auxiliaries were called in and the column settled down for the night. There was no moon in the sky, and though the stars shone brilliantly, the landscape was wreathed in darkness. Mindful of the enemy’s willingness to take the initiative, Cato doubled the watch and had a full cohort stand to along the palisade and keep watch over the approaches to the camp. Accom- panied by Fulvius, he made an inspection of the defences before the two of them returned to the headquarters tents in the heart of the camp, occupying a small mound overlooking the ramparts and on towards the enemy. The fires of the rebels glittered in a huge arc around the dark waters of the bay, dwarfing the neat lines of the Roman camp. Out at sea, three lamps glimmered where the warships lay hove to, keeping watch on the entrance to the bay. T h e rest of the fleet was beached in a cove some miles to the north, and Cato had sent for the navarch in command ofthe ships to come and report to him the next day.

‘The buggers aren’t short ofmen,’ Fulvius muttered as he surveyed the enemy.

Cato shrugged. ‘Numbers aren’t everything. We have better men and the better position. If they attack, they’ll have to do it uphill, and they’ll have to get over the ditch and the palisade. Our men can deal with any ofthem that get close enough to come to blows.’

‘I hope you’re right, sir,’ Fulvius muttered. ‘So what happens now? Looks like something of a stand-off. We can beat off their attacks, but we might not have sufficient men to take their camp.’

‘The situation is to our advantage.We’re camped across the only road out of Olous to the rest of the island. The navy blocks access to the sea, so we have them trapped. The main problem for us will be keeping supplied with food and water. We have enough for five more days before I have to send a detachment back to Gortyna with the wagons for more rations. Of course, that’s not a problem for the rebels now that they have their hands on the grain fleet. They could live off that for months. With the streams that run off the hills, they won’t be short of water either. However, the reality is that it is their turn to be under siege.’

Fulvius seemed doubtful, and gestured to the hills surrounding the bay. ‘If they wanted to get away, they could slip over these hills easily enough.’

‘If they wanted to get away. But they don’t. They have their carts and wagons with them, weighed down by loot, and then there’s the grain fleet. That is their one chance to cut a deal with Rome. And that’s why Ajax won’t abandon those ships.’ Cato paused and looked over to where a line of torches marked the palisade that had been erected to protect the beached ships. ‘The trick of it will be in finding a way of separating the rebels from the ships. We have to act soon. The grain fleet has already been delayed. Before long the stocks in the imperial warehouses are going to be exhausted, and Romewill starve. If we can’t rescue those ships in time . . .’

Cato turned away and strode towards his tent. Fulvius scratched his cheek for a moment and then followed his superior. Inside the tent, Cato had unfastened the clasp of his cloak and flung it over towards his bedroll. There were few of the usual refinements of a senior officer in the tent, since there had been no time to arrange for any at Gortyna. Comfort had been the last thing on his mind when Cato set off in pursuit of the rebels, and so there was only a small campaign table and a handful of chests containing the column’s pay records, strength returns and spare waxed slates. He yawned as he unfastened the buckles of his harness and drew it, and then the chainmail vest, over his head. He let them drop heavily by the bedroll. The march in the hot sun, and his exhaustion, had left him with a headache, and he declined the wine that Fulvius offered him from ajug that had been left out by one ofthe headquarters servants.

Fulvius shrugged, and filled a goblet almost to the brim before he eased himself down on to a chest with a sigh. ‘So then, what do we do now?’

‘Nothing we can do tonight. Tomorrow we’ll scout the enemy camp and see if there are any weak points that we might attack.’

‘You are thinking of an attack then?’ Fulvius probed.

‘I don’t see what else I can do. Some of the grain ships will no doubt be lost during the fight, but we have to rescue what we can and hope that it is enough to keep Romegoing until another fleet can be gathered to fetch more grain from Egypt. It’ll be a bloody business if we have to attack, and if anything goes wrong, if the men break, then we’ll be cut to pieces.’

‘The lads of the Twenty-Second won’t let you down, sir. They’ll fight well, and if the attack fails then they’ll keep formation when we fall back.’

‘I hope you are right,’ Cato replied wearily. ‘Now then, that’s all for tonight. I’m turning in.’

Fulvius drained his cup and stood up. ‘I’ll have one last turn round the camp, sir. So I can sleep easy’

‘Very well.’ Cato nodded. Once the centurion had left the tent, he took off his boots, extinguished the oil lamp and lay down on the bedroll. Even though it was a hot night, there was a gentle breeze blowing, enough to cool Cato’s brow and make it worth keeping his tunic on. His head felt thick with exhaustion, and it was a struggle to think clearly as he lay and stared up at the goatskin tent overhead. The moment he tried to settle into a comfortable position to sleep, his mind filled with images of Julia and Macro. If they were still alive, they were not more than a mile or two from where he lay. It had taken every fibre of his self-control to hide his feelings from Fulvius and the other men under his command. Inside, his heart felt like a lump of lead, weighing his body down. The worst moments came when his imagination thrust images of their torment to the front of his mind, making him feel sick with helplessness and despair until he forced such thoughts aside and concentrated his mind elsewhere.

He lay on his mattress, turning frequently, and ended up curled in a ball on his side before his weary body and exhausted mind finally succumbed to sleep.

Cato was woken by the blare of a buccina sounding the change of watch. He blinked his eyes open and winced at the stiffness in his back. Sunlight slanted through the open flaps of the tent and he instantly scrambled to his feet, furious that he had not been roused. He pulled on his boots and laced them up before hurrying out of the tent. Before him lay the camp, the men calmly going about their morning duties as they cleaned their mess tins and packed them away in their kit sacks before making ready their armour and weapons for morning inspection. Centurion Fulvius was sitting at a table in front of one of the other tents, writing notes on a wax tablet. He stood up and saluted as Cato came striding across to him with an icy expression.

‘Why was I not woken at the end of the night watch?’

‘There was no need, sir.’ Fulvius affected a surprised look. ‘The watch officers had nothing to report and there’s been no sign of any movement down at the rebel camp. I was just about to complete the orders for the morning cavalry patrols before I came to wake you.’

Cato lowered his voice so that only Fulvius would hear. ‘You know damn well that the senior officer should be woken at first light.’

‘I had no orders to that effect, sir.’

‘Damn orders, it’s customary. Even when a unit is on garrison duties. On campaign there’s never any question about it.’ Fulvius did not respond, thereby intimating his guilt. Cato glared at him for a moment, and then snorted with derision. ‘Tell me, when was the last time you served on a campaign?’

‘It’s been a while, sir,’ Fulvius admitted. ‘In my previous legion, on the Danube.’

‘How long ago?’

The centurion’s gaze wavered. ‘Twelve years, sir.’

‘And since then you have served in Egypt: garrison duty. Little to keep you occupied but spit and polish and the odd field exercise, eh?’

‘Keeps the lads on their toes, sir.’

‘I don’t doubt it.’ Cato recalled the endless drills and route marches of his earliest months in the Second Legion. It was not the readiness of the men he questioned. ‘So, having ducked out of the fighting for the last twelve years, you think you are better qualified to lead these men than I am. Is that it?’

‘Something like that.’ Fulvius was still for a moment and pursed his lips. ‘Permission to speak freely, sir?’

‘No. Centurion, I am the commander ofthis column and that fact ends any discussion on this matter. If you question my authority, or undermine established procedures again, I will have you removed from your position and sent back to Gortyna. Is that understood?’

‘Yes, sir,’ Fulvius replied sourly.

‘I will not warn you again,’ Cato growled through clenched teeth. ‘Now get out of my sight. I want you to do a spot inspection of the first three legionary cohorts, and report back to me once you’ve done. Go.’

Cato saw a glimmer ofanxiety in the veteran’s eyes. Then he stood at attention, saluted and strode offto carry out his orders. Cato shook his head, then turned and marched back to his tent, barking at one of the orderlies to bring him some bread, meat and watered wine for breakfast. As he sat and stared down towards the rebel camp, he considered the stand-off once again. Ajax had the grain fleet, and therefore no need to attack the Romans, while Cato risked the loss of the grain fleet if he attacked, as well as having the added concern of commanding too few men to guarantee victory. Yet time was on the rebels’ side, and there was no avoiding the conclusion that Cato would have to attack, whatever the odds.

As he was dipping the last hunk of bread into the bowl of wine, he noticed a movement down at the enemy camp. A small column of riders had emerged from the sprawl of tents and haze of smoke from the camp fires. They passed through their picket line and continued steadily up the slope towards the Roman camp. Cato soon lost sight of them behind the rampart and left the table to fetch his mail vest, helmet and sword belt from the tent, before making his way down to the rampart facing the rebel camp. By the time he reached the rampart the duty centurion had ordered his men to stand to. A cohort of legionaries were spreading out along the beaten earth of the walkway to face the approaching horsemen. Cato glanced at them as he climbed the ladder on to the platform constructed over the timber gates. Fulvius was already there and nodded a greeting to Cato as the latter joined him.