Cato replied. 'I doubt they will find it difficult to find some ship owners with more avarice than principle to serve their needs.
However, we have a squadron of warships waiting at Matala. If we send them to Olous we may well be able to catch the rebels between our ships and your soldiers. If we do, then they will have no choice but to turn and fight us.'
'All right, then.' Fulvius nodded. 'I'll send the order for the galleys to get moving. My men can begin the advance to Olous at first light.'
Sempronius cleared his throat and raised himself up in his chair.
That will not be necessary, Centurion. My senior officer can give the necessary orders.'
'What?' Fulvius looked surprised. 'But I understood that Macro had been taken prisoner.'
'Yes. That's why I have selected a replacement for him.'
Sempronius waved a hand at Cato.' The tribune is to take command of the local forces and your reinforcements.'
'Him?' Fulvius stared at Cato. 'Sir, I must protest.'
'Your orders are clear enough, Centurion. You are to hand over command to me the moment you reach Gortyna. And here you are.
I have chosen Tribune Cato to command our combined forces. You will serve as his second in command.'
Fulvius shook his head. 'Sir, with respect, the tribune is too young and too inexperienced to take command.'
'Really?' Sempronius leaned back in his chair, looking at Cato as he counted off on his fingers. 'Appointed optio in the Second Legion. Took part in the invasion of Britannia, where you were decorated for bravery. You and Macro rescued the family of General Plautius. You were involved in the capture of the enemy commander, Caratacus, and the subsequent defeat of the remnants of his army.
Then you served with the Ravenna fleet in the pursuit and destruction of a pirate squadron operating from the coast of Illyria.
After that you served in Judaea and put down a revolt. And then, when I first met you at Palmyra, you held the citadel until relieved and then went on to defeat the Parthians in a frontier battle.'
Sempronius looked straight at Cato.' Am I correct?'
'Yes, sir. But I cannot take the full credit for all that.'
Fulvius was looking at Cato with a frankly admiring expression, but then turned abruptly back to Sempronius. 'An impressive record, I'll admit, but given that Centurion Macro has been taken captive, I think I should refer this matter to my legate, sir.'
'Enough! You and Cato have your orders. There will be no further discussion of the matter. I charge you both with finding and defeating the rebels. The briefing is at an end. Tribune?'
Cato stiffened. 'Sir?'
'You have work to do. Carry on.' Sempronius rose from his chair, and all the officers hurriedly stood to attention as he strode towards the door. Once he had left the office, Cato stood at ease and there was an awkward silence as the other officers glanced from him to Fulvius. Cato cleared his throat. 'You are all aware of our situation, gentlemen. Have your men get a good night's rest. We face something of a challenge in the days to come.' He smiled faintly. 'You are dismissed. Centurion Fulvius, remain behind.'
Fulvius nodded, and remained on his feet as the other officers filed out of the room and the last man closed the door behind him.
Cato took the chair vacated by Sempronius and met the other man's gaze steadily. 'I don't imagine you're too pleased with the governor's decision.'
'No, I'm not,' Fulvius agreed bluntly. 'I assume that list of your achievements is accurate.'
'It is.'
'You're obviously an impressive young officer,' Fulvius conceded. 'And I'm sure you will go far, in time. But ask yourself, is this the right moment to take such a risk and appoint youth over experience?'
'I thought the point of the governor's remarks was to prove that I do have experience,' Cato responded tersely. 'In any case, the question of who should command is academic. The governor has appointed me. Of course, I will be happy to hear any suggestions you might wish to make during the course of the campaign.'
Fulvius nodded, and Cato decided that he had better make sure that Fulvius did not take this as an invitation to undermine his authority.' Be clear on one thing, Fulvius. I will not brook any attempt to contradict me in front of the other officers, or the men.
Is that understood? If you disagree with any of my decisions, you may make your case in private only'
'I understand.'
Cato took a deep breath.' From now on, you will address me as "sir".'
Fulvius bit back on his irritation and saluted formally. 'Yes, sir.'
'Good.' Cato was relieved that the confrontation had been avoided, for the present. In truth he was not certain that he would be a better man for the job than Fulvius, let alone Macro. However, there was no avoiding the responsibility Sempronius had thrust upon him. Not without surrendering all of his authority to Centurion Fulvius, and he would not do that while Julia and Macro were still prisoners of the rebels. He paused, and smiled to himself as he realised that this was precisely why Sempronius had chosen him to command the force. He needed some one who would not put his daughter's life at risk. The only man who had as much stake in Julia's survival as her father was Cato. The extolling of Cato's record merely a ruse to win Fulvius's respect, he decided bleakly. Be that as it may, he would do everything in his power to end the rebellion and save the lives of Julia and Macro.
Fulvius was watching him impatiently and Cato cleared his mind in order to consider the details of the coming campaign.
'We have to plan the advance, and co-ordinate with the warships.
You'd better send for your headquarters staff. We've got a long night ahead of us.'
'Yes, sir.' Fulvius rose up, saluted and left the office. Cato stared after him for a moment, then sighed and reached for a blank wax slate and stylus to begin making his notes outlining the order of march for the men of his new command.
The column was already on the move as dawn lightened the eastern horizon in a watery pink glow. Two squadrons of cavalry rode half a mile ahead of the first cohort of legionaries. The mounted men were spread out in a screen to provide early warning of any possible ambushes, and to run down and kill or capture any rebel stragglers they might encounter on the road to Olous. Cato had made it clear to the decurions of each squadron that he wanted prisoners to question. More than anything he needed to know that Macro and Julia were still alive. There was little doubt as to the route the rebel army had taken. The country ahead of the Roman column had been ravaged by the enemy, and was marked by burned buildings, occasional bodies and the remains of fires. Cato was still puzzled by the decision Ajax had taken to abandon his siege of Gortyna so abruptly and make for the eastern coast.
Cato sat on his horse by the city gate and watched as the long column of legionaries, followed by the baggage train and then the auxiliaries, snaked out along the road that climbed towards the rolling hills on the horizon. In a few hours the warships at Matala should receive their orders and begin making their way along the southern coast. Even though the army had only sixty miles to march across the spine of the island and the fleet had to sail at least four times the distance, the ships would arrive first, with orders to seal the entrance to the bay and prevent any ships entering or leaving. If the rebels were thinking of escaping by sea, then that route would be closed to them and the approach of Cato's force would give them very limited room to manoeuvre, especially as they would be slowed down by their non-combatants.
As the tail of the column began to emerge from the city gate, Cato saw Sempronius pass through the small side arch and stride towards him.
Cato saluted.' Good morning, sir. Come to see us off?'
Sempronius reached up and took Cato's hand.' The gods protect you, Cato, and Julia and Macro.'
Cato nodded. 'I'll do whatever I can to bring them back.'
'I know you will.' Sempronius released his hand and stepped back a few paces as Cato tugged gently on the reins and dug his heels in, trotting the horse along t
he line of the auxiliary troops, burdened down by their marching yokes as they headed into the dust stirred up by those ahead of them in the column.
It took two days of hard marching to reach the hill town of Lyttus.
The walls had been shaken to pieces by the earthquake and the rebels had pillaged the town and put most of the survivors to the sword. A handful of old men, women and children wandered through the ruins with numbed expressions. Cato gave orders for them to be fed and detailed a century to escort them back to Gortyna. Then, as the men made a makeshift marching camp out of the rubble from the walls, and settled for the night, Cato joined Fulvius and his staff in the small temple to Athe na that had survived intact in one corner of the forum. One of the clerks was already lighting the oil lamps and distributing them to his colleagues as they sat cross-legged on the floor ready to carry out the usual compilation of strength returns and ration consumption. While Fulvius signed off each of the completed records, Cato began to read through the daily reports from the scouts that Sempronius had sent to follow the rebel army. They confirmed that Ajax was still heading east, towards Olous. Cato nodded with satisfaction. By now the rebel army would have reached the sea, and walked into a trap of its own making. It was hard to believe that Ajax could make such mistake, and for a moment Cato felt a sudden anxious doubt. There had to be something he had missed. Some reason to explain the gladiator's apparent foolishness.
Once he had finished, Cato was about to bid good night to Fulvius when there was a clatter of hooves in the forum outside the temple. One of the headquarters guards shouted a challenge as Cato looked round. A moment later a scout came running in through the entrance. He glanced round until he saw Cato in his red cloak, then hurried over and saluted.
'Beg to report, sir, I have an urgent message from my decurion.'
'He's already reported today'
'Yes, sir. That was before we moved on a little further to camp where we could overlook the rebel army at Olous.'
'Well?'
'Sir, the bay's full of cargo ships. Big ships, sir. Most of ' em are damaged. Broken masts and suchlike. Some of them were beached, being repaired it looked like.'
Cato frowned. Where on earth could the rebels have secured so many ships? A fleet of cargo ships from the sound of things. It suddenly struck him that there was only one such fleet on the seas of the eastern Mediterranean at the moment, and he chewed his lip briefly before he asked,'Did you see any kind of identification on the ships?'
'Yes, sir. We did. There was a purple pennant flying from the top of each mast.'
Cato took a sharp breath and glanced at Fulvius. 'You heard?'
'Yes, sir.'
'Then you know what it means.' Cato felt a sudden chill of apprehension. 'Ajax has captured the grain fleet.'
'If it's true, then what in Hades is it doing in that bay?' asked Fulvius. 'They should be well on the way to Ostia by now '
'It was that storm,' Cato explained. 'It struck a few days after the grain fleet left. Must have blown them far off their normal route, probably wrecking some and damaging the rest. They must have put into the bay for repairs.'
Fulvius clicked his fingers. 'That's why they abandoned the siege!
Ajax must have got news that the grain fleet had been forced to make for the bay'
Cato nodded. 'And now he's got his hands on the food supply of Rome. You can be sure that if we don't do what he says, he'll destroy the fleet and all the grain. If that happens, a month from now the mob are going to be tearing Rome to pieces.'
THE BAY AT OLOUS
ROMAN
CAMP
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Macro stared out through the bars, down the slope of the hill into the bay. It was late in the morning and sunlight streamed through the bars of the cage, casting stark shadows across the grim interior. Around them the slaves settled into their new camp, which sprawled across the slopes of the hills. Ajax had chosen to have his tents erected on the narrow rocky peninsula that shielded the bay from the open sea. The men of his war band, together with their women and children, were camped around him in a rough circle, and Macro could see no way to escape from the camp, even if he and Julia could get out of the cage. Thanks to their filthy state they would instantly attract attention and would be quickly hunted down and recaptured the moment the alarm was raised.
Down in the bay, he could see the rebels hastily setting up defences around those ships that had been beached. A crude palisade was under construction a short distance inland, with towers at regular intervals. The crews of the grain ships, and the small marine contingents that had been put aboard to protect them from pirates, were being held in a stockade in the heart of the main camp. The ships themselves were now under close guard by the rebels. The most heavily damaged by the storm were beached, while the rest were rafted together and lay at anchor out in the bay. Ajax was taking no chances with his precious prizes, with good reason.
Turning his head, Macro could glimpse the sea between two of the tents that comprised the rebel leader's headquarters. The unmistakable lines of three Roman warships lay hove to a mile from shore. That was something at least, he mused. Ajax might have captured the grain fleet, but he would not be able to use the ships to escape the island.
Macro's gaze flickered to Julia as she leaned into the opposite corner of the cage. Her head hung forward and was shrouded by the matted hair that hung down across her shoulders.
'You awake?' Macro asked softly. 'Julia?'
She looked up slowly, and he could see from the glistening streaks over the grime on her face that she had been crying again. She swallowed and licked her lips.
'I'm thirsty,' she croaked.
'Me too.'
They were given water at dawn, noon and dusk, along with a greasy thin gruel. It had been that way since they had been put into the cage, and each day of the march since the rebel army had suddenly quit the siege of Gortyna. Ajax had ordered that his prisoners be fed on the same diet that had been provided to slaves on the farming estates. At the appointed time the same old crone and a burly member of the rebel leader's bodyguard came to the cage to feed them. The routine was always the same. The man would order them to shuffle to the back of the cage before unlocking the door to admit the old woman. She quickly set down two battered copper pots with ladles, gruel in one, water in the other, and then retreated from the cage. On the first day even Macro's iron stomach revolted at the terrible smell of the stew of rancid gristle, fat and barley. But hunger had a way of making things palatable, and he soon grew to savour the small quantity of food that he was allowed. The water be came increasingly precious as well, and the heat during the day was a torment of dry throat, leathery tongue and cracked lips.
The conditions of their imprisonment were made immeasurably worse by the lack of any arrangements for their sanitation and they had to live with the stench of their own filth. It had been bad enough for Macro to be stripped of all his clothes in front of Julia, and to have to live under such conditions, but Julia had never suffered any indignity like this, nor even imagined such an intolerable existence.
Macro had tried to help her in any way that he could, by looking away when she needed to go, and by deliberately avoiding looking at her except straight in the eye. Fortunately she had been given a torn cloak by the old hag who brought them food. It had been thrust at her and Julia had seized it at once, wrapping herself in its rank, ripped folds. Even with this small comfort she had quickly be come numbed by the grimness of it all and retreated into long periods of silence.
Macro regarded her suffering with a growing burden of sorrow. She was young and beautiful, and in love with Cato. She did not deserve such a fate as this.
As he thought of his friend, Macro's sorrow increased. The girl was as dear to Cato as anything else in the world. Her loss would break the lad's heart. And, Macro was human enough to realise, his own death would be a hard blow for Cato. They were as close as brothers, though sometimes Macro felt they were more lik
e father and son, and he dreaded Cato doing something rash once he discovered that they had been taken prisoner. Assuming that Cato was alive, he mused grimly.
Ajax had constructed their torment perfectly, Macro reflected.
They were permitted to live, but stripped of every dignity, kept like animals — no, worse than animals. With little possibility of escape, and no seeming chance of being freed as a result of negotiations, a grim future awaited them, until the day that Ajax tired of their torment and had them butchered. Until then Macro watched for any opportunities and tried to keep his muscles exercised as far as possible in the confined space, so that his body wasn't stiff and hobbled if he needed to act swiftly.
He turned to Julia and forced himself to smile.' Not long until noon.'
'Long enough,' she whispered, leaning her head back against the bars and squinting at the brilliant sunlight lancing through the slots overhead. She shut her eyes and was silent for a while before she spoke again.' How many days have we been in here?'
Macro had to concentrate hard for a moment. Even though he had been keeping count, for some reason he doubted the number he had in his head. He counted back just to check. 'I make it sixteen.
Yes, sixteen, I'm sure of it.'
'Sixteen days,' Julia sighed. 'Feels like sixteen years… I wish I was dead.'
'Don't say that,' Macro replied in a kindly tone. 'While we're alive, there's always hope.'
She uttered a cracked laugh. 'Alive? You call this being alive?'
'Yes, yes, I do.' Macro did his best to sit up straight and stare at Julia. 'We will get out of here, Julia. Don't let go of that thought.
I swear it to you, in the name of all the gods. We will get out of here.'
She looked at him hopefully, then nodded with a sad smile. 'You're right, of course. They'll drag us out of this cage to kill us. Or maybe we'll be left to die in here and one day some one will pull our bodies out and throw us into a ditch for the rats and dogs and crows to feast on.'
'Stop that!' Macro snapped, then forced himself to smile gently.
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