The Legion

by Simon Scarrow

  Karim nodded. ‘Canthus has concealed the stakes in the grass and his men are ready.’

  ‘Then let the Romans attack.’ Ajax smiled grimly as he stared at the enemy.

  Karim watched him closely for a moment before he spoke again. ‘There is another reason why you choose to stand and fight, isn’t there?’

  Ajax nodded. ‘So you heard him too?’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘Then you will know why I must stand my ground and seize the chance to kill that Roman officer. Unfortunately, I did not see the other one with him.’

  ‘Centurion Macro.’

  Ajax nodded and clenched his fists. ‘To think that I had Macro at my mercy for so many days back on Crete. I could have killed him at any time. I was a fool, Karim. I should have taken justice when it was offered, rather than indulge my desire to torment my enemy.’

  Karim shrugged. ‘It is always easy to be wise after the event, General.’

  Ajax frowned briefly. ‘True . . . All the more reason why I cannot endure the thought of losing this chance to have vengeance. For being sold into slavery, and for the death of my father.’ Ajax’s tone was ice cold. ‘As long as Prefect Cato and Centurion Macro still live, I’ll not be able to rest, not be able to be content.’

  ‘You shall never have those things while there is still a Rome,’ Karim responded wearily. ‘What do you think to achieve, my friend? Is your heart set on killing every Roman in the world?’

  ‘If that were possible, then yes.’

  ‘But it is not possible.’

  Ajax turned to him and flashed a smile. ‘Give me the time to do it and we shall see. Besides, do you think that we are alone in our hatred of Rome? Remember what we got out of that fat captain of the last cargo ship? That the Nubians were poised to invade the south of the province.’

  ‘I remember.’

  ‘Then perhaps we should consider throwing in our lot with the Nubians.’

  ‘Perhaps. But Nubians are an unknown quantity,’ Karim reflected. ‘It might not be wise to join them, even if they hate Rome as we do. I would not make that decision lightly.’

  ‘Nor would I.’

  Karim shook his head pityingly. ‘The desire for revenge weighs down on you, my General. The burden blinds you to the responsibility you have to others. To me, and to all those who follow you. And all those who might one day follow you, if you can put aside your personal craving for revenge. You must put reason before feeling. That is what it means to be a true leader.’

  Ajax shrugged. ‘I am a man, even as I am a leader, Karim. I cannot be untrue to the dictates of my heart. Not for you, or any other who chooses to follow me. I must have my revenge. If the gods are kind I will have it here in this village this night. I will kill those Roman soldiers. I will cut the head off Prefect Cato. But, if I take him alive, then I will do to him what he did to my father and nail him to a cross, and sit and watch as he dies, burning under the sun, begging for water or the deliverance of a quick death. I shall give him neither,’ Ajax concluded harshly.

  They were both silent for a moment, then Ajax stirred and stared intently down the length of the village to where the legionaries were stirring. As he watched, they formed into a line and presented their shields in the dull glow of the dying flames. At the centre stood a tall, slender figure with a plumed helmet. When the soldiers were ready, he raised his sword and swept it forward and the legionaries began to advance.

  Ajax cupped a hand to his mouth and called to his men. ‘Here they come! Archers, make ready! Gladiators, on me!’

  As the figures of his men rose up from the shadows, Ajax turned to Karim with a grim smile. ‘Pray that the gods are generous, my friend, and we end this tonight.’

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Centurion Rufus and his party had crept away into the long grass beside the dyke shortly before and should be making their way towards the enemy, Cato calculated, glancing down a gap between two of the houses to his left. There was nothing to see there, just the shadows now that night had set in. The fires had quickly consumed the flammable materials of the houses and small flames licked lazily along charred timbers and provided some illumination for the street and the ground immediately to the rear of the houses. Rufus and his men should be able to advance parallel to the street without being seen, Cato decided.

  Ahead of him he could see several figures gathering just beyond the far end of the street and he offered a quick prayer to Fortuna that Ajax was amongst them. He could just see more of the dim forms of the renegades spreading out either side of the main body awaiting them and a moment later the first, unmistakable phut of an arrow as it passed above his head.

  ‘Incoming arrows!’ Cato warned his men. ‘Shields up, lads!’

  The men in the rear ranks raised their shields overhead to protect the formation from plunging shots. More arrows fell out of the starlit sky and cracked into the shields or pattered off the hard earth as the line, six men wide and four deep, paced forward, behind the sturdy curves and brass bosses of their shields. The archers kept up a steady shower of arrows as the legionaries approached up the street. The knot of gladiators waiting for them stood still and silent, waiting for Ajax’s order to attack.

  ‘Watch the flanks!’ Cato ordered, anxious to avoid the formation being broken up by another charge of spearmen. The arrows stopped coming as the Romans approached the waiting gladiators and Cato tightened his grip on his sword and shield. When the two sides were no more than ten paces apart, there was a sharp cry of pain from the left, then Centurion Rufus’s voice cut through the darkness.

  ‘Forward! Charge ’em! Up the Twenty-Second!’

  His men echoed his cry with a roar and a moment later there was another cry, and then a shout and then a deep groan.

  ‘What the fuck is happening over there?’ said one of the men behind Cato.

  ‘Silence!’ Cato yelled. ‘Keep moving!’

  Ajax smiled as he heard the cries of pain down beside the dyke. He had been right in his suspicion that the Romans might try to flank him. That was why he had ordered his men to plant sharpened stakes in the long grass soon after they had dealt with the enemy scouts. Now it seemed that the enemy attack had come to grief and, better still, they had charged into the trap. He turned to Karim.

  ‘Take your archers over there and finish them off.’ He drew his sword. ‘I’ll deal with the other party.’

  Karim nodded and trotted away to the right, calling on his men to follow him. Ajax briefly imagined the situation that would confront Karim. The Romans had blundered into the sharpened stakes and several of them were wounded, from the sound of it. As they tried to extricate themselves they would be struck by arrows. If they panicked they were likely to run into another stake. If they held their nerve and groped their way free of the obstacles, they would still make an easy target for the archers. Either way, they were going to pay dearly. He smiled with satisfaction as he strode forward to join his men preparing to take on the Romans still advancing up the street.

  ‘Your shield, General.’ One of his bodyguards held it out to Ajax and he slipped his hand through the guard, adjusted his grip, and edged through to the front rank.

  ‘Let’s teach these Roman bastards a lesson!’ Ajax thrust his sword arm aloft in the salute he had been taught in the gladiator school at Capua. ‘Fight or die!’

  ‘Fight or die!’ his chosen men chorused, before they settled into a crouch and sized up their enemy as the line of legionaries, boots tramping in unison, came on.

  Ajax felt the familiar surge of excitement grip his body, and yet his mind was cool and calculating as he focused his attention on the leader of the small formation, the man who had caused him so much pain in the years since they had fought their first encounter at sea off the coast of Illyria.

  ‘Prefect Cato!’ The yell ripped from his throat. ‘Tonight you die!’

  He charged, his men surging forward on each side, roaring their battle cry as their faces twisted into feral masks of rage and
hatred. Years of hard training had turned Ajax’s body into a powerful machine and he threw his weight in behind his shield as it smashed into that of the prefect. He saw Cato’s plumed helmet jerk back as the Roman line was driven in. Ajax kept his shield in contact with his opponent and thrust forward, sensing the resistance increase as the other man’s boots scrambled for purchase on the hard ground. He could hear him grunt with the effort of holding his position. Ajax braced his shoulder and gave a powerful heave, breaking contact as he turned to bring his sword up and forward, pointing the tip towards his foe. The dying flames still provided enough illumination to light the conflict, and Ajax could see the thin face of the prefect, his expression taut and eyes wide as they fixed on him.

  Ajax thrust at his face, and the Roman quickly parried the blow aside and thrust back, the blade glancing away as Ajax took it on his shield. The sounds of other duels filled his ears but did not distract him as he directed his mind, body and skill against Cato. He thrust with his shield again, clashing boss to boss with a sharp ring, and then thrusting again, but this time switching the blow into a sweeping cut-over that came down at an angle towards the Roman’s shoulder. Cato instantly pivoted back on his right foot so that the sword that would have carved deep through his collarbone swept down through the air instead. At the same time he slashed at Ajax’s outstretched arm. There was barely enough time for the gladiator to twist his wrist and take the impact of the blow on the flat of his sword. Sparks flicked into the air, and Ajax stepped back a pace and nodded approvingly.

  ‘You’re quick, Roman. But you wouldn’t last a heartbeat in the arena.’

  ‘And you talk too much!’ Cato spat back and hammered his blade down on the edge of Ajax’s shield, driving it low enough to expose his throat as he slid the blade on. It was a desperate attack, Ajax noted coolly, as he dealt with it easily enough, thrusting the shield up, under the extended arm, sending the point skywards. Ajax saw his chance and hooked his shield up, behind the guard of the Roman’s sword and jerked it towards him. For an instant the other man’s fingers flinched and then the sword handle was snatched from his grasp and it flew back a short distance behind Ajax and landed with a thud.

  Ajax laughed cruelly as he lowered his shield and smashed it into the prefect’s, and again, driving him back. Then he alternated blows, shield, and then sword, battering at the shield as Cato stumbled away from the onslaught. A figure, one of Ajax’s men, fell between them, blood pouring from a deep wound in the skull as he shouted nonsensically at the top of his voice. His fingers spasmed and the long-bladed sword in his hand dropped, point first, and stuck in the ground. Cato snatched at the handle and drew it back behind the shield.

  ‘Out of my way!’ Ajax bellowed, slamming the man aside with his shield. He raised his sword to batter Cato again. The prefect rode out the next attack, and then Ajax paused and chuckled. ‘By the gods, I could do this all night.’

  He raised his sword to strike and Cato lunged forward, clashing shield to shield, as he thrust the blade round in a shallow arc. The point of the sword punched into Ajax’s cuirass, slid along the curve at the side and found the gap between the front and back plates where it lodged and the last of the force of the blow carried it into his side, tearing open the flesh. At first Ajax was stunned by the blow, and let out an explosive cry before a brief roar of outrage used up the last of his breath.

  ‘The general’s injured!’ a voice cried. ‘Ajax is hurt!’

  At once one of his men thrust his way between Ajax and Cato and launched a savage attack on the Roman, driving him back.

  ‘Get the general out of here!’

  ‘No!’ Ajax roared, then grimaced. ‘No . . .’

  Hands grasped his arms and pulled him away from the fight, back up the street to the far end of the village. He made to protest but had to grit his teeth to fight off the pain in his side. He saw that his men had bested the Romans. More of their bodies lay in the street, and only two of his own men. Yet the gladiators were pulling back, leaving the surviving legionaries staring after them in surprise.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Ajax growled. ‘Finish them.’

  Then Karim was standing in front of him, an anxious expression on his face. ‘General, one of our men watching the path says there are more Romans coming. We have to pull back. There are too many of them.’

  ‘No.’ Ajax shook his head. ‘I had the bastard. I had him at my mercy.’

  He felt sick with rage, cheated of his revenge. Then the pain hit him again. He knew that he could bear it well enough. He had been taught to endure worse during his training. ‘Let me go back. Let me fight him,’ he growled.

  Karim shook his head. ‘No. I’ll not let you die this night, my General.’ He turned and nodded at the men clustered about Ajax. ‘Get him out of here. Head down the path to the river. You know the place. Go.’

  Two men grasped Ajax’s arms and placed them over their shoulders and then carried him away from the village, pinned helplessly between them as he gritted his teeth. Once his leader had gone, Karim called the archers to fall back and form up on him. They came from the darkness and formed a loose line across the path, loosing shafts at the enemy and sending them scurrying for cover amid the smouldering ruins of the buildings. At the far end of the village the first of the Roman reinforcements had appeared and Karim called to his men.

  ‘Cease! That’s enough. We must go.’

  The last of the renegades melted away from the dying glow of the last few houses still alight and disappeared into the darkness engulfing the track that led out of the village. Aside from the occasional crack of a bursting timber in the night and the faint chirrup of some insects in the swamp beyond the dyke, the only other sounds were the agonised groans and cries of the wounded.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  ‘What the bloody hell’s been going on here?’ asked Macro, glancing round at the ruined houses and bodies as he marched up to Cato. ‘Looks like you’ve had quite a fight.’

  Cato had retrieved his sword and sheathed it as he nodded a greeting to Macro. He noticed that his hand was trembling, and it took all his self-control to ease the blade back into the scabbard without dropping it. The truth of it was, he was scared, Cato scorned himself. When Ajax had ripped the sword from his hands and driven him back under that powerful rain of sword blows, Cato had been sure that he was a dead man. Nothing could stand between Ajax and his vengeance. The gladiator had been like some wild force of nature, unleashed and implacable. Cato had been only moments away from his death when that mortally wounded renegade had stumbled between himself and Ajax. It had been as close as that, Cato mused in horror. He regarded his friend with an ashen expression and then blinked and nodded.

  ‘Yes . . . Quite a fight.’

  ‘What happened? I saw some men making off as we arrived. Ajax?’

  Cato nodded. ‘He still lives. I wounded him. His men drew him away when they saw you.’

  Macro stared down the street. ‘Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go after the bastard before he gets away.’

  ‘No,’ Cato responded firmly. ‘Not now.’

  ‘Why the fuck not?’ Macro’s brow furrowed. ‘We’re as close to him as we’ve been in months.’

  ‘We wait until first light,’ Cato said firmly.

  ‘What?’

  ‘That’s an order,’ Cato snapped. ‘I’ve lost enough men to ambushes already without blundering about in the darkness. I’ll not gift Ajax any more Roman lives than I can help. We rest here tonight. Tend to the wounded and let the men slake their thirst. Ajax and his band are just as tired, and have their own wounded to take care of. They’ll not go far in this darkness. We can continue the pursuit at dawn.’

  ‘This is madness,’ Macro said quietly.

  Cato stiffened and drew a calming breath. ‘You forget yourself, Centurion.’

  ‘My apologies, sir,’ Macro hissed through gritted teeth. ‘But we have to go after them.’

  ‘No. I’ve made my decision. We see to ou
r own first. Have your men gather our wounded. They’ll find ’em in the village and over there,’ Cato pointed towards the dyke where Rufus and his men had attempted to outflank the renegades. Whatever trouble Rufus had run into, there was no sign of his men, although the wounded were making themselves heard well enough. Cato winced at the sound. ‘See to it, at once.’

  ‘Yes, sir. I think our priest friend Hamedes has some skill with healing. I’ll set him to work.’ Macro looked searchingly at his friend. ‘And you, sir. Are you all right?’

  ‘Fine. I’m fine.’ Cato swallowed. ‘Just need some water. Now see to the others, please.’

  Macro nodded and turned away to shout the orders to his mixed force of marines and legionaries. They were also stripped down to the essentials and, like Cato’s force, they were exhausted and parched. But their rest and refreshment would have to wait, Macro grumbled to himself in frustration as he summoned two sections and set up a perimeter of sentries across the path at the end of the village, in case Ajax decided to cause any further mischief. Not that he was likely to. The gladiator was too shrewd. He was a man who knew how to pick his battles, thought Macro. The gladiator struck when he had the advantage, and held back when he did not. When he did give battle he fought with utter ferocity and ruthlessness. Were it not for the irremovable stain of the barbaric way Ajax had treated him, Macro might have found it in his heart to admire his enemy. In another life, Ajax would have made a fine legionary.