‘Bastard,’ Macro panted as he stopped beside Cato. ‘Bastard didn’t have the balls to stand . . . and face us.’
Cato licked his dry lips and fought for breath. His armour felt like a vice around his body, crushing him under the burden of its weight and the heat which prickled like that from an open oven. He took a deep breath and swallowed. Closing his eyes, Cato spoke through clenched teeth. ‘He tasks us . . . tasks us to the limit of our endurance.’
Cato’s eyes flickered open. He drew himself up, looked along the riverbank to see the legionaries wearily forming up around their standards. He let out an impatient breath. ‘We’d better send word to the legate. Tell him we have secured the bank.’
‘I’ll see to it,’ said Macro.
‘And have the rest of your men and the artillery landed as quickly as possible.’ Cato gestured towards the temple and continued harshly, ‘If they think that they’ll be safe in there, they’re in for a surprise. They’ll be caught. Trapped. This time there’ll be no escape.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
There was a dull thud as another ballista bolt tore into the mud bricks of the outer wall and a small cloud of dust shivered into the air. Ajax squinted down from the top of the pylon and by the failing light he saw that the interior of the wall was cracked and crumbling from top to bottom. The sun had already set and the sky was a deep violet, pricked by the steely glitter of the early evening stars. The Romans were already building fires around the perimeter of the temple wall to ensure that there would be some light to detect any attempt by the defenders to escape. After they had forced a way across the Nile they had brought up three more cohorts of legionaries and some cavalry as well as the battery of bolt throwers from the island.
Ajax had been surprised by the speed with which the Romans had moved to surround the temple complex, and the first of the bolt throwers had begun to shoot the moment it had been set up opposite the curtain wall. Then, as the rest of the weapons were hauled forward by cart, the bombardment had intensified late into the afternoon and early evening.
Two more bolts slammed into the mud bricks.
‘They’ll have a breach in the outer wall before the first hour of the night is over,’ Karim muttered. ‘Then all that stands before them will be the barricades we’ve put together across the entrances to the temple.’
‘Not quite the fortress I had hoped it might be,’ said Ajax.
The heavy tall timber doors of the main gate between the first pair of pylons had been reinforced with palm logs cut from the trees that grew a short distance away. The narrow side entrances had also been blocked up with makeshift palisades and parties of Arab warriors armed with swords and spears stood behind the defences, grimly determined to keep the Romans out for as long as possible. After all, Ajax reflected, that was the purpose of the raid down the western bank of the Nile. To delay the enemy advance and give Prince Talmis a free hand to devastate the Roman province along the upper Nile. Ajax and his column were supposed to tie the Romans down for several days but the enemy had reacted far more swiftly and resolutely than Ajax expected. As things stood, his position was looking decidedly perilous.
There was another impact on the wall, near the breach, and this time the shaft burst through before clattering against the solid stone of the temple.
‘Perhaps we should try to break out before it’s too late, General,’ Karim suggested cautiously.
Ajax smiled. ‘You think it was a bad decision to make a stand here, my friend.’
Karim pursed his lips. ‘It is not for me to say. You command, I follow.’
‘That’s right. I have my reasons for remaining here.’ Ajax pointed towards a cluster of Roman officers standing on a small mound. ‘They are there, the two men in this world that I most want to kill.’
‘You are certain it was them?’
‘I saw them with my own eyes. I heard them call for me.’ Ajax gritted his teeth. ‘I would have charged them down in an instant had there been a chance to face them individually.’ He stared at the distant figures of the enemy officers, their helmet crests and polished breastplates gleaming in the light of a nearby fire as the flames fiercely consumed the dried palm leaves that served as kindling.
‘You can be sure that when the Romans attack, those two will be leading their men. And I shall be waiting for them.’ He turned to Karim. ‘Perhaps it is as well that we are trapped here in the temple. There is no retreat for us now. We hold out as long as we can, and the chance to face my enemies will come. They will die on my sword. Both of them.’
‘And we shall die with them,’ Karim added quietly. ‘You, me, those who have followed you since the first days of the revolt, and our Arab allies. Is that the best way to defy Rome, General?’
Ajax slowly ran a hand through his thick curls. His hair had grown longer than he liked. He preferred a short crop, enough to absorb the sweat on his scalp so that it did not course down his brow when he was fighting. He sighed. ‘I begin to grow weary of defying Rome. Of being forced to run and always looking back for sign of my pursuers. There comes a time when the prey must turn and face the hunter. Then there is a last chance to die with purpose, with dignity. Perhaps that time has come. If so, then I shall kill as many Romans as I can while I still breathe. If the gods are kind, then I shall kill Macro and Cato as well.’ Ajax looked at his friend and clasped his arm. ‘Is that such a bad end? To die on your feet, sword in your hand, with your comrades - your friends - at your side?’
Karim nodded solemnly. ‘Better than to live as a slave, my General.’
‘That is not living,’ Ajax replied. ‘Merely existing.’
There was another series of thuds as the enemy bolt throwers continued to break down the mud-brick wall, then a rumble as a large section gave way and collapsed into the temple compound in a swirl of dust. There was a short pause before a brassy note sounded from the Roman lines. The bolt throwers ceased shooting and then the signal blew again and a column of legionaries quickly formed up just out of bowshot from the temple. Eight men abreast and twenty or so ranks deep. This would be the legion’s First Cohort, Ajax knew. The most powerful unit at the disposal of the commander of the Roman army. A handful of officers broke away from the group who had been surveying the temple’s defences and joined the column. Thanks to his spy in the Roman army, Ajax knew that Macro was the commander of the First Cohort, and he found himself praying fervently that Cato would be joining him in the attack on the temple.
Ajax turned to Karim. ‘Pass the word. The breach is made and the Romans are coming. Have the archers make ready to give our friends a warm welcome.’
Karim nodded. ‘Yes, my General.’
As Karim hurried down the steps leading from the top of the pylon, Ajax beckoned the Arabs standing a deferential distance from their commander at the far end of the platform. They came over and he pointed out the Roman column. Their leader nodded his understanding, his lips parting to reveal gleaming teeth. A moment later Karim’s voice carried up to Ajax, and then there were more shouts as his orders were conveyed to the Arabs by the Nubian officers versed in Greek and Arab tongues as well as their own. As the enemy’s bucinas sounded again and the column tramped out of the gloom towards the breach, Ajax looked down to see his men scaling the makeshift ladders to bring them up on to the roof of the temple. On the other pylons he could see a small flicker of fire as they lit their bundles of brushwood and dried palm leaves. The flames quickly took hold and illuminated the archers standing by, the first of their arrows drawn from their quivers. Strips of cloth impregnated with oil and pitch had been wound around the shafts, just behind the arrow heads, ready to be ignited the moment the order was given. Karim came running back up the stairs, breathing heavily. He swallowed and made his report.
‘The men are ready, General.’
Ajax nodded and then the two men turned to watch the legionaries tramping towards the breach. Behind them, the archers struck some sparks into a tinder box. A moment later the tiny flame was a
pplied to the kindling in the iron brazier and the flames quickly took hold.
‘They’re in range,’ Karim announced. ‘Shall I give the order?’
‘Not yet.’ Ajax strained his eyes as he scrutinised the head of the column. There were two crested helmets there. Officers. ‘We’ll wait until they reach the wall. I want the first volley to strike them as hard as possible.’
Karim nodded, and they stood in silence and watched as the Romans crossed the stony sand towards the breach, a long black line that seemed like a giant armoured centipede in the gathering darkness. As they approached, an order was shouted and the leading ranks turned their shields to the front to present an unbroken line, sheltering the men behind. They slowed as they reached the rubble below the breach and began to climb up the pile of crumbling mud bricks. As the first men entered the gap in the curtain wall, Ajax cleared his throat.
‘Now.’
Karim cupped both hands to his mouth and cried out, ‘Archers! Ignite arrows!’
The order was instantly relayed to the Arabs who crowded round the flames of the braziers, offering up the rags at the end of the arrow shafts. Karim drew a deep breath. ‘Shoot at will!’
The first arrow rose up in a shallow blazing arc from the far end of the temple and then plunged down into the breach. At once more followed, cutting through the darkness as they converged on the breach, as if the gap in the wall was drawing them in upon itself. The fire arrows rained down onto the head of the Roman column. Some fell harmlessly to the ground, their flames dying away to a flicker as they stuck in the soil. Others burst into sparks as they clattered against the wall, or glanced off the shields and armour of the legionaries. A few found their way through the shields and punched into exposed flesh.
The fiery flow continued, illuminating the breach in an uneven flickering light. Ajax heard the same voice bark out another order and the leading century of the Roman column halted and formed a tortoise. The shields rose up above the legionaries’ heads to provide an overlapping roof to protect them from the barrage of fire arrows that rattled down.
There was a sharp crack just below the top of the platform and Ajax glanced over the edge to see a long shaft clattering down. The Roman bolt throwers had begun to shoot again in an attempt to disrupt the aim of the archers. More shots clattered off the sides of the pylons, but some struck home, snatching men off the platforms to send them tumbling down the sides of the pylons, past the vast carved depictions of Egypt’s ancient gods.
The Romans pressed on through the breach, leaving several of their men dead and injured in their wake. Closing up their ranks, the men at the head of the column tramped across the narrow strip of open ground. They made for the barricade across the opening through the temple wall into the first of the colonnaded courtyards inside. Ajax stared hard at the leading century but could not see any sign of the two Roman officers.
‘Keep shooting,’ he ordered the Arab officer in command of the archers. Then he turned towards the stairs leading down into the interior of the pylon. ‘Come, Karim.’
They hurried down the steep flight of steps lit at each level by the wan glow of an oil lamp. The first sounds of fighting echoed up the walls from outside and Ajax quickened his pace. As he emerged from the base of the pylon he saw his men crowded between the columns to his left. Ajax drew his sword and ran across towards them.
‘Make way!’ he called out. ‘Move!’
The Arabs glanced round and stepped aside to clear a path towards the barricaded entrance. The gap between the curtain wall and the temple was no more than eight feet wide and had been filled with blocks of stone removed from the small courtyard in front of the main pylons to form a slim fighting ledge. Some of Ajax’s gladiators stood there, ready to cut down any Roman that tried to get over. On either side, on top of the temple wall, the Arab archers continued to draw their bows and loose arrows at the Roman column stretching back towards the breach. The legionaries presented a clear target in the flickering glare of the fire arrows and were forced to hunch down behind their shields as they waited for the vanguard to break through into the heart of the temple.
Ajax and Karim heaved themselves up on to the ledge and stood alongside the handful of men defending the wall. A few bodies littered the open ground and the head of the Roman column stood off, twenty feet away, shields protecting the soldiers from the missiles angling in from each side as well as from above. Every so often one of the Romans would bob up to hurl a javelin at the defenders. They had little time to take careful aim before they quickly ducked back behind their shields.
‘What are they waiting for?’ Ajax muttered to himself.
He had barely spoken when he saw a slow ripple passing down the centre of the Roman column. Then, over at the breach, he saw more men spilling out into the gap between the curtain wall and the temple. They wore the conical helmets and scale armour of auxiliary archers and carried wooden screens with them. The screens were quickly set down and the supports kicked back and then the archers set to work targeting the Arabs on the pylons and the walls of the temple. Ajax paid them little regard, he was more concerned by the activity within the column of legionaries. The shield wall at the front of the formation abruptly parted and a small party of men ran forward with a ramp made from lengths of palm logs tied to a ladder. Another party carrying a second ramp rushed out behind them and they made straight for the barricade.
‘Shoot them down!’ Ajax shouted, thrusting his arm out. The nearest archers on the roof of the temple turned at once, aimed down and loosed their shafts. Two men fell, one clutching at the arrow that had passed through his thigh, the other shot through the neck. But the ramp carriers ran on. When they reached the wall, the leading pair heaved the end of the ladder up and the poles clattered down on the top of the barricade. At once the nearest Roman soldiers broke ranks and surged forward, boots thudding down on the ramp before the defenders could push it away. Ajax thrust at the poles of the second ramp before the first of the legionaries reached it and the ramp grated back and then toppled to one side. The iron nails of the boots of the leading legionary scraped on the palm logs as he charged up towards the defenders. Ajax glimpsed the shield above him, and the sword blade rising up, gleaming as it caught the light from one of the archers’ braziers. He hacked horizontally, beneath the rim of the shield, and the edge of his blade bit into the Roman’s shin, just above his ankle, cutting through flesh and muscle before shattering bone. The man let up a shrill cry as his leg gave way and he fell back on the legionary behind him. The second man was knocked off balance and fell off the ramp, together with his wounded comrade, and both landed with a heavy clatter as their armour and shields struck the ground.
The next men rushed up the ramp. This time the leading soldier was more wary, keeping his shield low as he reached the top of the wall. Ajax held his sword hand back as he grasped the edge of the shield and gave it a quick wrench. He managed to pull it at an angle, exposing the thigh and side of the legionary. The gladiator to Ajax’s left was armed with a spear and instantly took advantage of the opening to thrust into the Roman’s leg. The strike was quickly made and lacked the force to make a crippling wound. Even so, the legionary groaned and drew back momentarily. Then, realising that there was no retreat for him, as his comrades pressed from behind, he came on again, punching his shield out and striking Ajax on the chest. There was nothing Ajax could do to avoid the shield and he rode back with it and fell off the wall, crashing down on to the Arabs waiting beneath. Two of them broke his fall and they collapsed under the bulky weight of the gladiator. The landing drove the wind out of his lungs and for a brief moment Ajax lay stunned on top of the squirming Arabs. Then he struggled back on to his feet and looked up to see that the spearman had struck again, this time into the legionary’s groin, and the Roman doubled up, dropping his shield. Karim had climbed up into Ajax’s place and now finished the man with a deep cut into his exposed neck. The Roman collapsed on to the ramp and slid back a short distance into the next m
an.
The end of the second ramp appeared on top of the wall again and Ajax shouted up to his men, ‘Push it back! Keep ’em off the barricade!’
The head and shoulders of the first legionary to make a run up the second ramp appeared as the only other man on the wall hacked at the end of the ramp with a heavy falcata. The wood splintered and Karim struck again as the legionary loomed over him. The strut gave way with a loud crack and pitched the Roman over on to the other ramp, right in the path of one of his comrades who stumbled to a halt just in time to stop himself tripping.
‘Don’t bloody stop! Go! Go forward!’ Macro’s voice bellowed from the other side of the wall. Ajax felt his heart harden and grasped the edge of the platform. Heaving himself up, he thrust one of his gladiators aside. ‘Get off.’
As the man jumped down, Ajax stared into the enemy soldiers milling around below him until he caught sight of the transverse crest of Macro’s helmet. The Roman was standing to one side of his men, and there beside him was the taller form of another officer - his friend, the prefect. Ajax sheathed his sword and turned to wrench the spear out of the next man’s hands. It would have been gratifying to save his enemy for a more lingering death, but Ajax knew that he must seize the chance to strike before it passed. At his side Karim clashed with another legionary attempting to cross the barricade. Ajax ignored the thud of Karim’s sword on the Roman’s shield and hefted the spear into an overhand grip. He raised it up above his head and drew his arm back as he took aim at the two officers. A grim feeling of satisfaction filled his mind as he recalled a similar situation back on Crete when it was Macro who was defending a wall and had hurled the spear that had killed one of Ajax’s closest companions.
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