Rome: Sword of the Legion (Sword of the Legion Series)

by R. Cameron Cooke

  Lucius gave him a bemused look.

  “I am a willing slave to my cause, Roman, and that cause is far greater than I.” Demetrius gazed up at the star-filled sky. “There comes a time for some of us, when childhood fantasies must be supplanted with responsibility and obligation. If all men were slaves to their own inclinations, the world would fall into anarchy. Your Roman leaders understand this. Arsinoe and I were each born into a duty. She to rule, and I to serve. We cannot reject these callings. They are a part of us.”

  The night of intoxicated debauchery the duty-born queen had led him through came to Lucius’s mind. “Are you sure your devotion is well-placed, or do you pretend that she is someone she is not?”

  Demetrius appeared annoyed at the question, and curtly brought the conversation to an end. “We march before dawn. I suggest you get some rest. Good evening, Centurion!”

  And without another word, the royal guard captain disappeared into the night.

  XII

  The moan of the desert wind gusting against the side of the tent lolled Lucius to sleep quickly, and he slept well, his muscles finally relaxing from the exertion of the past days. But like all legionaries who had spent time in Gaul and Germany, he slept with one eye open, and was always listening for the odd sound that might portend some kind of danger. It was in the dead of night, when the wind had quite diminished, that one of these sounds woke him. The canvas ties to the flap of his tent were being fumbled with from the outside. Someone was attempting to come in and, whoever it was, was being very discreet and careful about it.

  The intrusion was not a surprise to Lucius. He had fully expected Ganymedes to try to do away with him at the first opportunity, and the late night assassin fit perfectly with the eunuch’s style. Lucius wondered who Ganymedes had recruited to do it. Perhaps it was one of those giant Nubians, or perhaps one of Demetrius’s men. As a precautionary measure against any such assailant, Lucius had bedded down with his gladius by his side, and his Roman pugio clutched tightly in one hand. Whoever it was would be in for a surprise of their own.

  Lucius kept perfectly still as the tent flap slowly opened and a robed figure crept inside on hands and knees. As the figure began to inch its way toward Lucius’s prostrate form, the glint of something shiny caught the glow of one of the torches outside. Lucius instantly came to life, rolling to the side to avoid the assassin’s weapon. He came up in the kneeling position, thrusting his gladius out before him, directly at the interloper’s chest. But a small squeal of alarm stopped his thrust a hair’s breadth before it would have penetrated flesh.

  As Lucius watched, the figure slowly stood up, forming a bulbous silhouette against the tent wall. Then, the robe opened and fell to the ground, revealing curves that he had seen before. Arsinoe stood naked before him, her moist lips glistening in the darkness. Between her bare breasts hung a sparkling object, now polished to a fine shine. And now he knew that it was not the glint of an assassin’s blade that he had seen, but the amulet of power – the bejeweled Eye of Horus. Forged by the priests of old, worn by the great pharaohs of Egypt, passed down with great ceremony over the millennia, the glittering talisman now danced against the whisper-soft skin of this nymph who called herself queen.

  Suddenly realizing that this, too, could be one of Ganymedes ploys to catch him off his guard, Lucius kept the blade pointed at Arsinoe’s abdomen. Two small hands reached out of the night and touched the blade ever so gently. She then brought the blade to her face and began to kiss it, first on one side and then on the other. In the scant torchlight making its way in from outside, Lucius saw her eyes close as if the sword was arousing her to some new height. Then he felt her hand on his, and she was holding the sword with him, kissing it only inches from his face. Comprehending now, that this was not one of the eunuch’s ploys and that the frolicsome queen had come to his tent purely out of her own lust for him, he began to let his guard down. She pushed him back onto the bedding and violently tore at his clothes until he was as naked as she. In a rustle of cast-off garments, she was suddenly on top of him, and no sorcerer’s potion was necessary to light her carnal fires this time. As before, she smelled of rose petals and lotus blossoms, and her skin was as pure and smooth as the day it entered the world. Arsinoe attacked him with the passion of a starving lioness. She was a ravenous beast, and he her prey. Never one to turn down a night of mindless bliss, Lucius welcomed her to him and gave her everything she desired. More than once, her lithe form writhed wildly against him, her nails driving into his shoulders to the point of drawing blood.

  But there were moments during the ensuing hours of unceasing lust that he could not help but think of the aspirations Demetrius had for this woman, and how short she fell from the mark. She was driven by power and lust, not duty. She had no qualms about bedding down with a Roman enemy, should her body crave him, and that was hardly a facet of a god-chosen queen. There was one moment in the wild night of muffled moans that Lucius thought he caught a glimpse of Demetrius’s face, twisted in anger, peering in from the open tent flap. But the next moment, it was gone, and Lucius dismissed it as tricks of his tired or guilty mind.

  At some point in the night, Arsinoe slipped out, leaving Lucius to lie alone on bedding strewn with disheveled blankets.

  Lucius’s eyes had just shut when he heard a new noise outside. It was the shouting of many voices. Torches danced and a general cry of alarm rang throughout the camp. It was too early for the army to muster for the march. This was more like the tumult of panic. He dressed and armed himself quickly and went outside to find royal guardsmen in various states of arming, forming into squads and taking up positions around the perimeter of the camp.

  He found Demetrius issuing orders to his lieutenants.

  “What is it?” Lucius asked.

  Demetrius shot a venomous look at him at first, much like the one Lucius thought he had seen at the flap of the tent hours before, but then his face softened. “A flaming arrow was spotted in the sky over the camel pens. It is the signal for alarm. Our men there have encountered something.”

  “Have you called them in?”

  “Yes, I sent a runner but he has not returned. You may have been right, Centurion.”

  “Wait,” Lucius said, holding up a hand. “Listen.”

  From the darkness that hid the camel corral, came the scream of men being butchered. A thunder of hoofs echoed in the dark.

  “Smother the torches!” Demetrius commanded.

  The word was quickly passed and the camp went suddenly dark, every man listening intently to try to discern the direction from which the enemy approached. But the sound of the hoofs faded, and all was eventually silent once more. Instantly the men in the ranks began to mumble. They knew what it meant to be stranded in this desert without the essential dromedaries. Stealing the herd of camels was tantamount to plunging a sword into the breast of every man in the camp. Either method would kill just as effectively. One was simply quicker than the other. The troop would not be able to make it back the way they had come on foot. The desert was too vast, the water too scarce, and the sun too hot. It simply could not be done by mortal man.

  In spite of the glower that descended on his men, Demetrius kept them all at their posts for the rest of the night. Their only option now was to march back to the oasis, where there was at the very least enough water to sustain them. Having fully resolved to pursue this course, Demetrius quickly reconsidered when the gray light of dawn began to touch the dunes and lift the blackness around them.

  “What in Hades is that!” one man said pointing to a thin dark line that covered the crests of the dunes to the south and west.

  Lucius heard the alarm spread throughout the ranks and jostled for a position to gain a better look. As the sun peeked over the eastern horizon, the black line became more distinguishable, and it caused every man in the ranks to gasp in wonderment.

  A long line of black-clad figures stretched across the dunes in one continuous rank facing the camp. Each figure was m
ounted atop a camel draped in black skirts. Headdresses covered the warrior’s faces and spear-points gleamed above their heads. They stood silent and motionless. Only the exotic red banners waving in the breeze and the occasional stirring of a camel’s head confirmed that they were not mere statues.

  The sunlight also revealed a grisly sight that conveyed the black riders’ intentions quite plainly. The naked and bloody bodies of the ten men that had been guarding the camels, along with the runner Demetrius had sent after them, were impaled on their own upturned sarissas, half-way between the lines. Carrion birds had already lighted upon one of the unfortunate soldiers and were gnawing away at his dead flesh. The appalling display was met with curses and obscene gestures from the Alexandrians who seemed more enraged than frightened by it.

  “There must be five or six hundred of them!” Demetrius exclaimed, pushing his way over to Lucius. “I don’t understand. If those are indeed the Watchers you spoke of, how can that many men dwell in such a desolate place for so long?”

  Lucius shook his head. “I do not know. Doubtless, they have found a way. There is no chance of marching back to the oasis now. They would divide your men into isolated groups and cut them down at their leisure.”

  “I know it,” Demetrius replied in frustration, glaring at the enemy ranks. “Well, what now? Do they intend to just stand there and watch us die of thirst?”

  At that moment, Arsinoe appeared, the black bodyguards muscling a path for her through the distracted troops.

  “Demetrius,” she said with pouty lips after casting an eye in Lucius’s direction. “Why are we not preparing to leave? What is happening?” Apparently she had only now woken up and had slept through the earlier alarms.

  Demetrius bowed cordially to her and gestured to the horde of camel warriors on the horizon.

  “Who are they?” she demanded.

  Ganymedes, who had accompanied her from her tent broke in before Demetrius could answer. “Those are the guardians of the Eye, Great One. They made off with our camels in the night, thanks to our captain’s incompetence, and now they want our heads!”

  Arsinoe looked confused at first and then suddenly frightened.

  “Is this true, Demetrius?” she asked anxiously, like a child to an older brother, as if the realization that her life was in danger had come over her for the first time.

  A horn sounded across the dunes, prompting the attention of everyone in the camp. As they watched, the camel riders all along the black line held aloft their spears and shook them. A small strand of bells dangled from each spear, and this produced a great ringing clamor that devolved into an incessant clicking rhythm resonating across the empty space between the opposing forces. The bells were followed by a great cry from the six hundred-man army.

  “What are they doing, Demetrius?” Arsinoe asked nervously, one hand on Demetrius’s arm.

  “My queen,” Demetrius said curtly. “You must retire to your tent.”

  “No, Demetrius! I wish to stay with you!” She struggled, but Demetrius motioned for the two guards to carry her away for her own safety, and they complied. The eunuch started to say a word in protest, but another glance at the shouting black-clad warriors made him reconsider and he scurried off after the queen.

  As did Lucius, Demetrius concluded that an attack was imminent and immediately ordered men from the east side of the camp to reinforce the southwest side opposite the camel warriors. The royal guard formed two ranks of spears in an arc that hugged the southwest perimeter of the camp, and Demetrius placed the Nubian archers behind them. The black men strung their bows and then selected arrows with large barbed heads from their quivers. A single one of these heavy arrowheads could bring down a camel if it struck the beast in the right spot.

  No sooner had the Alexandrians prepared, than the horns and shouting from the camel riders ceased and the great mass of mounted men began to move forward. Slowly at first, the lumbering beasts with their heads and long necks swaying back and forth, picked up speed, prodded on by the spike-tipped butts of their rider’s spears. A swarm of black enveloped the dunes in front of the Alexandrian ranks as it rapidly closed the distance. The living black carpet dipped behind one dune and then reappeared at its crest moments later before overtaking and swallowing it.

  The royal guard braced. The archers pulled back on their bowstrings and let the first volley fly. But as the heavy-tipped arrows arched across the sky, the entire line of camel warriors came to an abrupt stop, allowing the score of Nubian arrows to stick harmlessly in the sand before them.

  The spear riders now opened file to allow another rank of camel riders to take the front. These men carried bows.

  “Shields!” shouted Demetrius.

  Every man in the Alexandrian ranks crouched behind his shield and that of the man beside him. Lucius did the same, but not before catching a glimpse of the swarming black cloud of arrows taking flight from the line of camel archers. The first mass of arrows largely missed, striking the dune well in front of the Alexandrians’ position. The camel archers, their range increased by the height of their mounts, simply angled their bows higher and loosed again. The second wave of missiles clapped squarely into the Alexandrian line, like hail hitting a roof. The round shields absorbed the feathered projectiles by the dozen, and quickly became much more cumbersome. A few arrows found the gaps and sliced into men’s unprotected thighs, calves and feet. Several men lowered their shields to remove the agonizing arrows from their legs, but they quickly found this to be a lethal mistake as arrows from the succeeding volley found their mark in the exposed necks and shoulders of the writhing men. Men began to fall, and the shaded sand beneath the shield canopy began to run red with blood.

  Many of the arrows overshot, slicing the tents behind into ribbons. After only a few volleys, the sands around the Alexandrian ranks had become a field of feathered shafts. But, eventually, the torrent ceased, or was lessened, such that Lucius and Demetrius could afford longer glances at their opponents.

  “Why are they slowing?” Demetrius wondered out loud.

  “I’ll wager to conserve arrows,” Lucius replied.

  Demetrius nodded. “Then let us take advantage of it!” He waved a hand and shouted to one of his lieutenants. “Front rank, advance! Nubians, forward!”

  Responding to the order without hesitation, the front rank of spears ran several paces forward and then planted their shields in the sand and squatted behind them. The Nubian archers followed on their heels, crouching low with feather-loaded quivers bouncing at their sides. The maneuver was performed to get the Nubians closer to get a better shot at the camel archers who had a height advantage from the high perches atop their mounts.

  This time, the Nubians selected slender arrowheads, meant to cut through human flesh and light armor. They let the arrows fly, not in a massed volley this time, but individually as they ducked in and out of the protection afforded by the royal guardsmen’s shields.

  A camel archer reeled in the saddle, groping at a shaft protruding from both sides of his neck. Another rider’s camel felt the sting of two of the pesky arrows and bolted straight ahead in the direction of the Egyptian lines. The lone rider became an easy target for the Nubians and was quickly dispatched by three arrows driven into his chest in rapid succession. A few others fell, or were maimed, but in spite of these successes, the overwhelming number of camel archers eventually ruled the exchange. One Nubian after another fell to the deadly missiles. Some twitched in the sand through multiple volleys, their glistening bodies absorbing one arrow after another even after the stillness of death overtook them.

  Lucius saw one wounded Nubian grope for the rear using his hands alone. An arrow had lodged in the base of his back, rendering his legs immobile. The black man grimaced in pain with every movement, his own blood and sweat caking the white sand to his skin. But a final arrow eventually put him out of his misery, striking him in the back of the neck and pushing his face into the sand.

  Then a movement in the enemy
line caught Lucius’s eye. The camel riders in the rear ranks, the ones carrying the long spike-butted spears, were moving to the left en masse. Their line was extending to the left, well beyond the Alexandrian’s flank.

  “Call your men back, Captain!” Lucius exclaimed, after groping his way over to Demetrius. “The riders are seeking to flank you.”

  “Call them back to where?” Demetrius said hopelessly.

  “Forget defending the camp perimeter. You are too far outnumbered. You must bring your troops inside the camp to form a final defensive stance – an orbis. Ring your troops in the center. Have them form around the queen’s tent. The outer tents will break up the enemy’s charge.”

  Demetrius took only a moment to consider it before promptly ordering the advanced rank back to the line. He then commanded all of his troops to fall back and regroup at the center as Lucius had suggested. The Alexandrians responded quickly, falling back with their shields held behind them against the never-ceasing arrows which still managed to strike a few in the back. Reaching the center of the camp, the four score surviving royal guardsmen formed a double ranked row of spears and shields, completely enveloping their queen’s tent.

  As they waited for the coming onslaught, Lucius ducked inside the tent, disregarding the impropriety of entering the queen’s private space unannounced. He had done this to warn Arsinoe, but he saw that both she and her handmaids – and Ganymedes – were already hunkering in the center of the tent beneath two giant rectangular shields held by the burly bodyguards.

  Arsinoe’s eyes met his.

  “Come here, Roman!” she commanded. “You will protect me from those savages! Come here, I say!”

  “You are in good hands, princess,” Lucius replied, nodding to the two large bodyguards. “There is little else I can do here. My sword is better employed in the battle line.”

  He then ducked back outside, ignoring her protests, and quickly took three javelins from one of the stacks of missiles piled behind the line of spearmen. He then joined the ranks, ducking beneath a shield just as another swarm of arrows began to strike all around the formed troops.