The optio turned to him as they strode across the courtyard, smiling at the wobbly gait of the tribune. 'Been at sea a few days then, sir?'
Cato nodded.
'Mind telling me what you and your lads were doing in a fishing boat?'
'Yes.'
'Oh?' The optio was puzzled for an instant before he got the point. He clamped his mouth shut and they continued in silence, climbing the dazzling white steps towards the palace entrance. The sentries advanced their javelins in salute as the optio passed, and tried to look straight ahead and not pay any attention to the bedraggled man, reeking of fish, who accompanied him. Inside the entrance was a large hall, filled with petitioners waiting for their chance to put their grievances to the legate or one of his officials. At the end of the hall was a large doorway, flanked by eight more legionaries. A table stood in front of the doors, seated at which was a centurion in a light tunic. His vine cane lay in front of him. He was reading through one of the petitions when the optio and Cato approached the desk.
'Yes?' he said without looking up.
The optio stood to attention.' Beg to report the arrival of Tribune Quintus Licinius Cato, sir.'
'Yes, just wait a moment,' the centurion muttered automatically, before he realised what had been said. He looked up, glanced at the optio and then switched his gaze to Cato.' Him — a tribune? What nonsense is this?'
'It's true, sir. He showed me his letter of appointment.'
'Did he? Let me see.'
Cato impatiently produced the document again. The centurion read carefully through it, then examined the seal closely before he puffed his cheeks out and finally returned it to Cato. 'Seems genuine.
What brings you here, Tribune? Shipwreck and rescue by a fishing boat from the smell of it.'
'I am here to see the legate, on a matter of the gravest importance.
I have been sent by Senator Sempronius, acting governor of Crete.'
'You want to see the legate?'
'At once.'
'That's tricky, sir. He's in his private bath suite. Left orders that he was not to be disturbed.'
'That's too bad. I have to speak with him now '
The centurion weighed up his orders against Cato's obvious impatience, and nodded. 'Very well, sir. Optio, take him up to the roof garden. Legate's private baths.'
'Yes, sir.' The optio saluted and gestured to Cato to follow him as the centurion returned to his petitions, working out which ones might provide him with the best chance of earning a hefty bribe.
The sentries opened the doors to admit Cato and the optio, and on the far side they entered an inner hall. Corridors stretched away to the right and left, and directly ahead a staircase led up into the sunlight.
Cato followed the optio as he mounted the steps. They emerged on to a wide-open space flanked by tall walls. The sounds of the city were muffled and competed with the light splash of fountains. Palms grew in geometrically arranged flower beds and provided occasional shade over the paved walkways that bisected the roof garden. Against the far wall Cato could see a suite of buildings and the shimmer of a plunge pool. Smoke wafted up from the furnace that provided the heat for the steam and hot rooms of the legate's private bath suite.
As they approached the pool, Cato saw that a small party of men was sitting in the water chatting idly. Two more lay on cushioned benches as slave masseurs worked on their backs, gleaming with scented oil.
'What's this?' one of the men called out as he saw Cato and the optio striding towards the pool. 'We have visitors! Legate, one of the men has found himself a tramp.'
There was some laughter and the officers looked round curiously as the optio halted and stood to attention, saluting one of the men being massaged. 'Sir, beg to report that Tribune Cato wishes to speak to you.'
The legate rolled his head round towards the optio, and a brief flicker of anxiety flitted over his face as he looked at Cato. 'Tribune Cato? Never heard of him. Are you his slave? Tell your master to make an appointment to see me through the usual channels. That is, via my clerks' office. Now go.'
Cato stood his ground with a determined expression. 'I am Tribune Cato.'
'You, a tribune? I don't believe it.'
'I have already presented my written authority to two of your officers. I can produce it again, if you wish.'
'Later. First, tell me what a tribune is doing in Alexandria. Who sent you? Narcissus?'
Cato could not help smiling at mention of the emperor's private secretary. Aside from being Claudius's personal adviser, Narcissus also ran a formidable network of spies and assassins to protect his master.
'I haven't come from Rome, sir. I sailed here from Crete.'
Petronius's nose wrinkled. 'You stink of rotting fish.'
'A fishing boat was all that could be found to bring me here. Now send these people away, Legate Petronius. We must talk.'
'Send them away? How dare you?'
'I must speak with you alone, on a vital matter. I have been sent here on the orders of the acting governor of Crete.'
'Acting governor? Has that fool Hirtius been replaced?'
'Hirtius is dead, along with the majority of the senior officials of the province.'
'Dead?' The legate pushed the masseur away and rolled round to sit on the bench facing Cato.' How? '
'There was an earthquake on the island. He was entertaining his officials and local dignitaries when it struck. Much of the palace collapsed, burying Hirtius and his guests.'
'Earthquake?' The legate raised his eyebrows. 'There have been rumours in the city about Crete being destroyed by a giant wave.'
'The island's still there. But there was a wave, and between it and the earthquake nearly every city and town has been reduced to ruins.'
'So who's in charge now?'
'Senator Lucius Sempronius. We were travelling together when the wave struck. The ship was forced to head for the nearest port, and that's when we learned that the disaster had struck the island. He took charge of the situation.'
'Sempronius?' the legate mused.' I knew him once. A fine officer.
So he's taken charge in Crete? Well, good for him. But forgive me, how can I be certain that you speak the truth? You've just washed up from the sea with some fanciful tale of disaster. Why should I believe you?'
Cato took the ring from the leather tube around his neck and handed it to Petronius. 'There, recognise the crest?'
Petronius held it up and examined the design, a wolf's head over crossed forks of lightning. He nodded. 'It belongs to Sempronius. All right then, why has he sent you here?'
Cato looked meaningfully at the other guests, all of whom had been listening to the preceding conversation in avid silence. 'Sir, I really must insist on speaking to you alone.'
'Alone, eh?' Petronius stared at Cato for a moment before he clapped his hands.' Out! Leave us! At once.'
His officers and other guests hurriedly climbed out of the pool and, picking up their robes from the benches and seats that surrounded it, made off towards the far corner of the garden, where a terrace overlooked the harbour. Once the last of them was out of earshot, the legate waved the optio away. 'Stand over there, at the end of the pool. If I call for you, come running.'
'Yes, sir.' The optio saluted and strode away.
Cato could not help a small smile at the legate's precaution.
'I had no idea that being the Legate of Egypt was such a dangerous job.'
'A man in my position must always be cautious,' Petronius sighed.
'Egypt is an imperial province. The legate is appointed by the emperor in person. Therefore he is always the target of envious senators, and at the same time he is in grave danger of disappointing the emperor, and you know how that ends.'
'Indeed.'
'So,' Petronius took his linen tunic from the end of the massage couch and pulled it over his head, 'what does Senator Sempronius want of me? Emergency supplies, some engineers to help with the clear-up?'
'Those would
be welcome, sir, but the situation is rather more serious than that. There is a full-scale slave rebellion in Crete. For the moment it is confined to the southern half of the island, but we've lost control of things. The slaves have wiped out the force sent to deal with them, and the remaining soldiers and officials are bottled up in a handful of cities and towns.'
'Sounds bad.' Petronius stroked his chin and looked at Cato shrewdly. 'I imagine you are about to ask me for some men to help put these rebels down.'
Cato nodded. The time to deploy his persuasive skills was on him, yet his body was still coping with the giddy effect of so many days at sea and his mind was dull with fatigue. He opened the top of the leather tube and extracted the second scroll from inside. 'This is from the governor.'
He handed the letter to Petronius, who broke the seal and opened it. Before he began to read he glanced at Cato. 'I expect you could use a drink? Something to eat?'
'Yes, sir.'
Petronius indicated the tables vacated by his officers. Several platters of fruit and delicacies lay half eaten, together with silver jugs of wine. 'Sit over there and help yourself while I read this.'
'Thank you.' Cato walked over and helped himself to some grapes and oranges, relishing the taste after days of chewing dried fish and hard baked bread. He sat down on a cushioned stool and poured himself a cup of the watered wine, sipping it as Petronius read through the brief report on the situation in Crete. At length the legate rolled the papyrus up and strode over to join Cato, sitting down opposite him and pouring a cup of wine for himself.
'I always find that a massage leaves me feeling thirsty.' He smiled.
'In fact almost anything one does in Egypt makes a person thirsty. At least the climate is bearable here in Alexandria. But further down the Nile it gets unbearably hot, and almost nothing lives in the deserts on either side. You have it good in Crete.' He stopped and tapped the scroll. 'At least you did.'
'Can't say I've been there long enough to notice,' Cato replied.
'It was our bad luck to be sailing past the island when the earthquake struck.'
'Unlucky for you maybe. Lucky for Crete that such high-ranking officials just happened to be on the scene to take charge.'
'I suppose,' Cato said carefully So far the legate had not questioned his rank, and it was necessary to convince him to come to Sempronius's aid before his mind was clouded over the questionable status of Cato's elevation to the rank of tribune.
'Sempronius mentions the need for military support but does not say how many men he requires. Do you know what he has in mind?'
'Yes, sir.' Cato took a deep breath. The senator and his two senior officers had carefully considered the forces required to guarantee victory over the rebels.' One legion, two cohorts of auxiliary infantry and two cohorts of cavalry, as well as a squadron of warships to provide transport and support any coastal operations.'
Petronius stared at him, then laughed. 'You can't be serious.
That's nearly half the garrison of this province. We're thinly stretched as it is.'
'But you're not engaged in any campaigns at the moment?'
'No,' Petronius admitted.
'And are there any uprisings to contain?'
'No. But that's because I have enough men to keep the locals in their place, and the desert Arabs at bay'
'I understand that, sir, but Sempronius will only need the use of your forces while he puts down the slave revolt. As soon as Ajax — '
'Ajax?'
'The leader of the slaves, sir. A gladiator. As soon as he is crushed, the forces can return to Egypt at once. The governor gives his word on that.'
'That's reassuring.' Petronius took an exasperated breath.' Look here, Tribune, I'm happy to do what I can to help out in another province, but what Sempronius asks is impossible. I have two legions here. The Twenty-Second is down at Heliopolis. The Third Cyrenaica is dispersed along the coast, and my auxiliaries are garrisoning towns across the delta. It would take some days, months even, before I could concentrate such an army as Sempronius requires. By then your revolt will probably have fizzled out.'
'I doubt that,' Cato responded. 'It is growing in strength every day.
Sir, I can see you don't grasp how critical the situation is. The slaves slaughtered one thousand of our men in a single attack. Some how Ajax has managed to fashion an army out of them, and I fear he has ambitions to free every slave on the island.'
'Then let Rome deal with it. If the situation is that critical, then the emperor will need to assemble an army to put the rebellion down.'
'But he won't have to if we act now ' Cato paused and decided to try a new tack. 'Sir, if you fail to send help to Sempronius, then Crete will be lost. As you say, it will require a large army, and perhaps years to recover the island and stamp out every last nest of rebels. The cost to the emperor will be vast. But what if he realises that the revolt could have been crushed if forces had been available to intervene earlier? You said it yourself: being the emperor's man in Egypt is a tricky business. If you fail to act now, you are sure to disappoint the emperor, and, as you say, we know how that ends.'
Petronius glared back. 'Are you threatening to blackmail me?'
'No, sir. Neither I nor Sempronius will have to. The lost opportunity will be apparent to everyone, and sadly the mob does like to have some one to blame whenever there is bad news.' Cato paused a moment. 'Act now and you could emerge as the man who saved Crete.'
The legate sat back and folded his arms. 'And what if I so denude Egypt of forces that a rebellion breaks out here in my absence and we lose this province? How do you think the mob will react to that, Tribune?'
'That is a remote possibility,' Cato conceded. 'But you have good order here at the moment. It's not likely to happen.'
'But if it did?'
'Then you are dead either way, sir. The best thing to do is save Crete, and save it quickly, then have your men return to Alexandria.'
'You make it sound so easy'
'I am merely stating your options as I see them, sir.'
Petronius stood up and walked slowly around the pool, head bent in thought, hands clasped behind his back. By the time he returned to the table, his mind was clearly made up. 'I can't leave Egypt. If anything happened in my absence, the emperor would have my balls for breakfast. And I'm not prepared to give you all the forces you ask for. So let's compromise, Tribune. I have eight cohorts of the Third Legion here, with an auxiliary and cavalry cohort in a camp twenty miles from the city. If I keep two of the legionary cohorts in Alexandria I should be able to maintain order. As for the other units, I will have to shift men around the delta region, but it should be possible to manage. That's my offer then. Six cohorts of legionaries, and one each of cavalry and auxiliaries. In addition to the naval squadron. Take it or leave it.'
Cato considered. Would two and a half thousand legionaries and a thousand auxiliaries be sufficient to destroy Ajax and his army of slaves? There was no question that quantity was no substitute for quality and the heavily armed legionaries could carve a path through the poorly equipped ranks of the slaves. Even so, they would be massively outnumbered. There was little point in committing a force that lacked the strength to see the task through. On the other hand, if Sempronius could strike quickly enough, he might inflict a victory on the rebels before they grew too established. Cato cleared his throat.
'That is a generous offer, sir. I am sure Senator Sempronius will be eternally grateful to you.'
'Bollocks to Sempronius. I just want Narcissus kept off my back.
Now, if that's agreed, I suggest you get some rest. Make sure you have a long bath and a good shave while you are at it. I'll give the orders for my forces to concentrate in Alexandria. I suspect my staff officers are going to be kept busy over the next few days. That's no bad thing.
Do them good to get back to some soldiering for a change.'
'Yes, sir.' Cato felt as if a great burden had been lifted from his shoulders. 'Thank you.'
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The first attack on Gortyna took place only a few hours after Ajax returned to his camp. His closest comrades had never seen him so angry as he swept past his bodyguards and into the half-ruined farmhouse that he had chosen for his headquarters. He tore off his cloak, and hurled it to one side as he made for the jug of wine and hunks of bread and cheese that had been left out for his supper. There were some of his men who made every effort to enjoy the finest foods that they had been able to loot from the wealthy villas that the slave army had sacked. Ajax did not begrudge them such indulgences. After a life of servitude, they had every right to taste freedom in all its forms. He preferred a simple diet, one that would feed his body and not spoil it, and he made no secret of his plain fare, knowing that it would bind his followers closer to him.
Now he forced himself to sit down at the table and pour himself a cup of wine. He drank it deliberately and then poured another and dipped his bread in before chewing it methodically, staring at the cracked wall in front of him. The owner of the farm had obviously been a man of some wealth, but limited taste. The walls of this, his dining room, had been covered with murals depicting a bacchanal orgy. Directly in front of Ajax was an image of a pair of gladiators, a secutor like Ajax himself, in a wary crouch as he faced a net-wielding retiarius. Arranged around them were the guests, drinking and gorging and laughing as they urged the gladiators on. One of the women, heavily made up, was holding the penis of a man as she watched the fight with an excited expression. In the centre of the party sat the host, a fat, jolly bald man wearing a leaf crown awry on his shining pate as he raised a cup in the air, filled to overflowing.
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