The Gladiator c-9

by Simon Scarrow

  On either side of the city sprawled the camp fires of the rebel army, and as Macro cast his experienced eye over the size of the enemy camps and quickly estimated their strength, he wondered if Cato's relief column would be strong enough to fight its way through to Gortyna, let alone launch a campaign to crush the rebels. When the real contest came, it would pitch the training and equipment of Roman legionaries and auxiliaries against overwhelming numbers and fanatical desperation. Macro could not guess at the out come of such a conflict; it was quite unlike any other he had experienced.

  They continued into the hills, and Macro's senses were finely strained as he kept glancing ahead and from side to side, all the time listening for any sound that might alert his suspicion. They had travelled perhaps five miles when he detected the first hint of dawn to the east; a faint luminosity in the night sky that outlined the mountains more clearly. The track had merged with a dried-out river bed. Steep rocky slopes rose on either side. Macro raised his hand. 'Halt.'

  The others reined in as Macro turned his horse round and nodded to Julia. 'We've come a fair distance from the city. I doubt there will be any rebel patrols this far into the hills. There's nothing for them to scavenge up here. Good luck, miss.'

  'Thank you, Macro,' she replied quietly and glanced towards the horizon. 'You should have turned back before now. It'll be light long before you return to Gortyna.'

  'I'll be all right. It'll take them a while to get over the kicking we gave themearlier.'

  'I hope so.'

  There was a brief silence as they looked at each other, then Julia leaned across to kiss him on the cheek. 'Take care, Macro. Give my love to Cato when he reaches Gortyna.'

  'I will.' Macro was still flushing from the embarrassment of being kissed in front of the escorts. 'He'll be glad that you're somewhere safe. As soon as it's all over, he'll come and find you.'

  She nodded, and then Macro nudged his heels in and moved on towards the optio leading the escort. 'You clear about your orders?'

  'Yes, sir.' The optio went on to intone his instructions. 'We make for Cnossos, and if the rebels come north we take a ship to Athens, where the senator's daughter is to be placed in the care of the governor.'

  'Very good. Now you'd better get moving.'

  They exchanged a salute, and Macro spurred his horse into a trot as he rode down the column. The optio gave the order to advance and Macro heard the horses' hooves clop forward again, but he did not look back. Julia was safe, and he was needed back in Gortyna. In truth he should have remained there, but the senator had insisted on his seeing his daughter on her way. Even though he resented the order, Macro realised that it would help put Sempronius at his ease, and the senator could ill afford any distractions now that Ajax and his rebel horde were camped before the walls of the province's capital.

  He continued back down the river bed and up on to the track as it turned sharply round a large rock, passed through a small forest and began to descend. The air was cold and he breathed in the sharp scent of the pine trees as he calmly contemplated the danger he was riding back into. As soon as Ajax had got over the failure of his initial assault, he would be quick to realise that his best chance lay in stretching the defenders' resources. A co-ordinated series of attacks on the most damaged sections of the wall was bound to be rewarded, with a breakthrough somewhere. One breach was all that the rebels would need; then they would flood into the city and massacre anyone who failed to reach the acropolis in time.

  Macro was so intent on his thoughts of the coming siege that he heard the enemy scouts before he saw them. There was a sudden shout and he reined in abruptly and stared about in a moment of panic. The path was traversing the side of a hill and the trees fell away sharply to his left. A short distance ahead, the track bent round and zigzagged down the hillside. Two hundred paces below, Macro saw a large party of horsemen, perhaps as many as fifty of them, riding along the track, dressed in dull brown and grey tunics and cloaks.

  One of them had seen him and was pointing directly up as he called out to the others. They stopped and looked up, and located Macro's red cape in an instant. The leader shouted a command, and at once his men spurred into a gallop and raced up the track.

  'Oh, shit,' Macro muttered. It was as he had feared, and for an instant a spark of anger flared in his breast.' Damn Sempronius…'

  For an instant he thought of leading them away from Julia and her escort. But there was nowhere to go. The slope on either side was too steep to ride on. He could only continue forwards, or turn back in the direction he had just come from. It took only a brief moment's thought for Macro to realise there was only one course of action. He had to ride back and warn the others, who would then have to spur their horses on and try to outrun their pursuers. Pulling savagely on his reins, he wheeled his horse round, and dug his heels in and galloped back up the track. Behind him he could hear the pounding of hooves and the cries of his pursuers.

  He leaned forward, whipping the loose ends of the reins round the horse's neck while he shouted harsh encouragement and gripped hard with his thighs. Reaching the top of the slope, he rounded the rock again, dropped into the river bed and galloped along, spraying pebbles and loose stones into the air. He could see the way ahead of him for another few hundred paces before the route curved round a slope, and there was no sign of the escorts. He estimated that he had less than a quarter of a mile's start on the men behind him, and as he approached the bend their cries and the pounding of hooves echoed off the rocky slopes on either side. As the horse scrabbled round the bend, he saw Julia and the others a short distance ahead. The rearmost auxiliary turned in the saddle and looked back. As soon as he saw Macro, he called out and the escorts halted. Julia had turned her horse and was surprised and anxious to see Macro hurtling towards them.

  'Macro! What's the matter?'

  'We've got company!' he shouted as he rode up, reining in harshly. 'We must go, now! Follow me!' He spurred his horse on again, riding at the head of the line, following the river bed as it began to twist and turn more frequently as it led up into the mountains. He kept glancing back to make sure that Julia was keeping up, and saw her leaning forward as she rode along with the rest of the men, her expression one of determined concentration.

  The sound of hooves and the occasional shouts of the pursuers filled the still air. Above, the craggy skyline was illuminated by the first rays of the rising sun, but down in the river bed it was still gloomy and chilly.

  As they turned yet another corner, the route split into two paths, both seeming to continue up in the direction of the ridge ahead.

  Macro halted the column, desperately sizing up the choice. The path to the right was narrow and sloped gently. The other route was wider and the incline more pronounced. Macro hoped that it might reach the crest more quickly and raised his arm.

  'That way!'

  They charged into the left fork and urged the horses up the slope, the leading mounts spraying dust and pebbles into the faces of those behind. Macro stayed at the head of the column, keeping just in front of Julia. On either side the slopes be came steeper until they were in a ravine. Then, as they galloped round another bend, the path ended in a sheer cliff, forcing them to come to an abrupt stop. The snorting of the horses and the scraping of their hooves filled the air. Macro stared at the cliff, heart pounding.

  'Fuck!' His spare hand balled into a fist and he struck his thigh.

  'Fuck!'

  'Macro.' Julia looked at him, afraid. 'What do we do?'

  Macro turned round to face the escorts. 'Swords out! We're going to have to cut our way through!'

  Some of the men briefly stared at him in surprise until the optio called out, ' You heard the prefect! Swords out! About face!'

  Macro pointed to the nearest of the auxiliaries. 'Stay with the lady. If you see a chance to get her away during the fight, do it. Head for Cnossos.'

  'Yes, sir.'

  Macro edged his horse through to the front and raised his sword.
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br />   'Let's go!'

  They spurred their mounts, thundering back down the ravine.

  Ahead of them the sounds of the pursuers were clearly audible, harsh and distorted as they echoed off the rock face. The two sides were suddenly up oneach other as they met on a bend. Horse thudded into horse and the riders desperately held on before they hacked at their opponents. Macro and his men were equipped with the standard short swords, while the enemy carried a mixture of weapons: short swords as well as longer blades, the lethal crooked falcatas and some spears that were little use in the tight press of horseflesh and men in the confined space. The air was filled with the scrape of blades, wild snorts and whinnies, grunts as men struck blows, and cries of pain as they landed. The dust on the floor of the ravine swirled in clouds about the men locked in conflict.

  Macro hacked a sword thrust to one side and opened up the face of the man as he withdrew his weapon for the next blow. From the corner of his eye he saw the first of the escort go down, run through with a battered-looking cavalry sword. The auxiliary doubled over, then rolled off to one side as his enemy yanked the blade free. A brief glance was all Macro could spare him as he turned to parry another blow and stab at the face of his next foe. The man threw himself back to avoid the thrust and tumbled off the back of his horse. Macro could see that the escort was hopelessly outnumbered and being steadily forced back. Another of his men was cut down with a savage blow to the head that shattered his skull in an explosion of blood and brains. A sudden surge of horses pressing forward into the melee found Macro squeezed back between his men so that he was close to Julia again.

  She met his eyes with a questioning look. He pursed his lips and shook his head. There was no chance for them now. Macro turned his horse round. There was one last course of action to be contemplated. He needed a moment to prepare himself for the deed.

  'Come with me.'

  'Where?'

  Macro did not answer. He nodded to the man he had assigned to protect her.' Get stuck in, lad. Make every blow count.'

  Then he led the way back up the ravine at a gallop, until they came to the end. There he dismounted and offered Julia his hand.

  When she was down beside him, she glanced round at the high rock surrounding them.

  'There's no way out.' She looked up at him, lips trembling. 'Is there?'

  'No, miss.' Macro looked at her sadly.

  Julia glanced back towards the ravine, as the sounds of the fighting drew closer. 'What will they do if they capture me?'

  Macro knew well enough. Almost certainly there would be no mercy, and plenty of suffering before they had finished with her. 'Best not to think about that.'

  'What?' She stared at him and responded plaintively:'I don't want to die. I don't want to suffer.'

  'I know.' Macro put his arm round her shoulder awkwardly.

  'This way'

  He led her to the cliff and they turned to face the ravine. With a last savage clatter of blades and a final cry of pain the noise of the fighting died away. Then there was the sound of horses coming their way. Julia pressed into Macro.

  'I'm afraid. I don't want to die.'

  'Of course not, miss,' Macro replied gently. 'It's only natural.'

  'And you?'

  Macro smiled. 'It's been a long time coming. I've grown used to the idea. I know one thing. They're not going to forget me in a hurry.'

  The first of the enemy appeared, then another, and more of thememerged from the gloom. They came on at a steady walk, weapons held ready. Some bled from wounds and all of them stared at Macro and Julia fixedly. Macro stepped in front of Julia and raised his sword.

  'Come on then, you bastards! See how a Roman dies!'

  There was no response, just a deathly cold in their eyes as the horsemen clopped towards them. Julia took Macro's elbow and he felt her tremble as she spoke.

  'Macro, don't let them take me. Please.'

  He felt an icy sense of dread clench round his heart at her words.

  There was no avoiding what he must do. Macro felt sick. He swallowed back the bile and turned towards her.

  'I'm so sorry, miss.'

  She glanced past him to the approaching men, then grasped his shoulders and stared into his eyes.' Do it quickly!'

  Macro's features twisted into an expression of agonised helplessness, then he nodded and lowered the bloodied tip of his sword to rest against her stomach, just under her rib cage. Her body was warm to the touch even though she was shivering. She clenched her eyes shut and took a last gasping breath as one of the men shouted a warning and they rushed forward.

  'The gods save you, Cato my love,' she whispered. 'Macro, I'm ready. Do it.'

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  It was taking far too long for the force to assemble, Cato fretted irritably as he made his way along the breakwater extending from the old royal quarter into the great harbour. To his left there was a mass of commercial shipping riding at anchor waiting for a berth, and beyond lay the Heptastadion — the long causeway stretching from the mainland to the island of Pharos. As he glanced at it, Cato could not help admiring the ambition of the Alexandrines once again. The city was full of wonders, as he had discovered while waiting for Petronius to assemble the relief force to be sent to Crete.

  The library had overawed him. Never before had he seen such a concentration of learning. In addition to the vast number of books on every conceivable subject, the place was filled with scholars quietly discussing shared interests, or locked in vehement dispute over some point.

  He sat down on the steps of the Temple of Timon at the end of the breakwater. From there he had a good view of the fleet assembling in the royal harbour. In addition to a squadron of warships, Petronius had provided four light scouting ships of the same class that Cato and Macro had served aboard when they had been seconded to the fleet at Ravenna some years earlier. Besides these, there were eight large cargo ships to carry the horses and equipment allocated to the force. Counting the marine contingents aboard the warships, the legate had assigned nearly five thousand men to the force being sent to the aid of his old friend Senator Sempronius.

  The decision of who to appoint as commander of the force had proved to be a delicate matter. In addition to the experienced officers commanding the legionary cohorts, as well as the auxiliary units, Petronius had a number of military tribunes on his staff who claimed the command for themselves. Cato had reminded the legate that Sempronius would be making his own decision with respect to appointing a commander of the relief force when it reached Crete.

  Moreover, he had asked that Cato himself be the commander of the forces while they were en route to the province. In the end Petronius had appointed the senior centurion of the Twenty-Second to the post, until they arrived at Gortyna. Decius Fulvius was a scarred, bald veteran with the build of a boxer, who could bellow like a bull. Cato was impressed by his competence and aura of authority, and accepted the legate's decision.

  Even though the commander had been appointed and the ships were ready, the auxiliary units were still on the march and would not reach the city for another day, Cato had been informed. The prefects, long used to the comfortable garrison duties of Egypt, had proved reluctant to be sent on campaign and had made every excuse to delay their departure, until the legate had threatened to replace them on his own authority and report the matter to the emperor. That had done the trick and the two cohorts had set off at once.

  It had been several days since he had arrived in Alexandria, Cato reflected in a depressed mood as he found some shade on the steps of the temple and gazed out to sea. Some where out there lay the island of Crete, where his friends were in danger. They needed him and he was stuck here in Alexandria, dragging his heels until the relief force was ready to set sail. He thought longingly of Julia, and for a moment he closed his eyes and lifted his face to the sea breeze, letting it caress his skin as she was wont to do so lightly with her fingertips that it made his body tremble at the sensation. He could not wait to be in he
r arms again, to hold her body against his and kiss her.

  Abruptly he stopped himself pursuing that line of thought. The consequences would be embarrassing in such a public space, and the agony of her absence would only depress him further and make him more anxious over having to wait for the fleet to set sail from Alexandria. As he opened his eyes, he felt the wind strengthen, and the awning over a nearby fish stall billowed up and snapped taut. The stallkeeper was already looking anxiously to the west as he began to pack his goods away into baskets to carry back down the breakwater into the city. Cato rose from the steps and walked round to the far side of the temple. The sky beyond the Heptastadion was dark and cloudy and the swell in the harbour was more noticeable. A storm was coming, blowing in from the west.

  For a moment Cato watched the horizon, won de ring if he should return to the quarters the legate had provided for him in the palace that had once been the home of the Ptolemaic pharaohs. There he would be forced to endure the empty conversation and mindless entertainments of Petronius's bored staff officers as the storm broke outside. The thought soured him, and he resolved to stay and watch.

  A fresh blast of wind buffeted him and he turned to see that the storm was almost upon him. Great waves were crashing against the foot of the lighthouse across the bay and bursting in massive clouds of spray swept on by the rising wind. Out to sea, a grey curtain of rain was sweeping towards the coast beneath dark clouds that smeared the sky along the horizon.

  The rain began in earnest, stinging his face, and Cato could not help shivering slightly in the cold wind moaning around the temple.

  All at once there was a dazzling flash of light and a moment later the muffled metallic crash of thunder, as the storm struck the port. A cargo ship, a mile out, was battling to reach the harbour, almost all the sail reefed in as her bows burst through one wave after another.