'I don't think I'll be sleeping much tonight either.'
'You get some rest,' said Macro. 'I'd feel better knowing your mind was fresh when we continue the pursuit tomorrow.'
'Why?' Cato asked bitterly. 'So that I can lead us into another ambush?'
'What is this?' Macro frowned and placed his hands on his hips. 'Do you think to blame yourself?'
Cato looked at him squarely. 'It was my fault, Macro. I should have known that Ajax would anticipate our attempt to flank him… I made a bloody mess of it. I was too keen to put an end to him and rushed in.' Cato shook his head at the memory of it. 'Ajax was waiting for us. He had it all worked out.'
'What did you expect? He's no fool.' Macro glanced at his friend and tried to offer a crumb of comfort. 'Still, I expect I would have done the same if I had been in your place.'
'I wonder.'
'Mind if I sit?'
'Be my guest.'
Macro unfastened the straps under his chin and removed the bulky helmet with a sigh of relief. Then he eased himself down on the edge of the trough next to Cato and leaned forward, resting his thick forearms on his knees. He was silent for a moment and then pursed his lips before speaking quietly so that they were not overheard. 'Could you take a little advice? From a friend?'
Cato looked at him. 'From a friend, yes.'
'Right… Look here, Cato, you're a bloody prefect now. You can't afford self-pity.'
'Self-pity? No, you have me wrong. This isn't self-pity. It's a question of poor judgement. I led these men badly.'
'And what? You want to take some form of punishment for it?'
'That's what I deserve,' Cato admitted.
'Bullshit. You think you are the first officer to make a mistake?'
'Mistake is hardly the term I'd use for this.' Cato waved a hand towards the casualties. 'Bloodbath, more like.'
'Shedding blood is our stock in trade,' Macro responded. 'When there's a fight, soldiers get hurt and killed. That's the way of it.'
'But if men die needlessly, then their commander should be called to account.'
Macro puffed his cheeks in frustration. 'For fuck's sake, Cato, I've seen worse cock-ups. So have you. Sometimes a fight goes your way and sometimes it doesn't. The enemy gets the better of every commander from time to time, even the very best of them. You have to accept that.'
'So you agree that I failed my men.'
'Sure, you screwed up,' Macro said frankly.
'Thanks…'
'Cato, I respect you well enough to tell you the truth. If you don't want to hear it then say so.'
'I'm sorry. Speak on.'
'All right.' Macro collected his thoughts. 'The truth is that you are a fine officer. As good as any I have met. I've watched you rise from optio, to centurion and now prefect. I'd wager you'll go further still. You've got the brains for it, and the guts, and though you look like a long streak of piss, you're as tough as old boots. But you lack something.' Macro frowned as he tried to clarify his explanation. 'Not experience – you've had plenty of that, no question about it. No, it's something else… Perspective, perhaps. That sense a soldier has once he has served long enough to see generals come and go. Maybe you have been too successful. You've won promotion before you've developed the right temperament for the job, if you see what I mean. You need to learn to accept that making mistakes from time to time – failing – is part of the job. How a soldier copes with failure is every bit as important as how he deals with success.' Macro smiled fondly. 'Do you remember Centurion Bestia?'
Cato nodded as he recalled the scarred veteran in charge of training the recruits when Cato had joined the Second Legion nearly seven years before. Bestia had died during the invasion of Britannia, fatally wounded in an ambush.
'He was a tough one, and he'd served in just about every corner of the Empire. After I was promoted to the centurionate I had a drinking session with him in the mess. He had a right skinful and, as old soldiers will in the company of their own kind, he fell to reminiscing. Anyway, I remember the most impressive story he told me was about some messed-up campaign in Pannonia. Some of the mountain tribes had decided they'd had enough of Roman tax collectors so they rebelled. The Second was sent in to put down the revolt. But the governor had no idea quite how many rebels there were, nor much about the conditions in the mountains during the winter. So the commander of the legion gets caught in a trap, loses a quarter of his men and has to retreat two hundred miles to the nearest fortified town. Took them twenty days and cost nearly half the men. But Bestia reckoned it was the legate's finest hour. He led his men to safety. That's the point, Cato. The real test of a commander is how he deals with adversity.' Macro looked at Cato and nodded earnestly. 'That's the truth of it. So you'd better get a grip on yourself, right?'
'Yes. I understand.' Cato forced a slight smile. 'And thanks.'
'Think nothing of it.' Macro punched him lightly on the shoulder. 'I'd far rather you were in charge and fucked it up than me.'
'Oh, great…'
Macro raised his canteen and took a series of swigs before he set it down. 'Ahh! That's better.' He decided to change the subject and glanced quickly round at the ruined village. 'So what's the story here? Where are all the locals?'
'Dead.' Cato pointed towards the pen, a short distance down the street. 'Ajax had them all killed.'
'Why? Why the hell would he do that?'
'Maybe they refused to help him. Or maybe he just wanted to keep on destabilising the province. I don't know the reason.' Cato picked up a pebble and rolled it between his fingers for a moment before flinging it away into the darkness. 'Anyway, they're dead. All of them. And that's why we've got to track that bastard down and kill him.'
'There you go. That's the spirit. Put this day behind you, and concentrate on what you must do on the morrow.'
Cato nodded. Macro rose stiffly to his feet. 'I need to speak to Rufus and the optios about the watch-keeping schedule. You get some rest, sir.'
'I'll try.'
Macro slapped his cheek as a high-pitched whine sounded close to his ear. 'If you can manage it with all these little bastards then you're a better man than me.'
He stooped to pick up his helmet and turned to make his way over to the other centurion, sitting propped up against a mud wall. Cato stared fondly at his friend for a moment, then got up and entered the nearest building. He searched around in the rooms that had suffered least from the fire damage and found a bedroll tucked in a corner. He took it outside, where the stench of burning was less overpowering, unrolled it and lay down on his side, trying to ignore the insects that filled the night. For a while he thought of Ajax, and the moment when his death seemed unavoidable. Then the dreadful exhaustion of the day's march through the mangroves and swamps carried him off into a deep sleep.
Cato woke shortly before dawn, immediately feeling guilty that he had slept while Macro had tended to the watch-keeping. The months aboard the ships had left him in poor condition for a difficult march and his legs ached abominably. Cato rose to his feet with a groan and stretched his back, feeling the joints crack.
'Shit,' he muttered, then rubbed his eyes and looked about. Some of the men had already stirred and a handful were busy constructing litters for the wounded out of wood salvaged from the ruins. The air was delightfully cool and a thin mist lay across the low-lying land around the village. The sight of the mist immediately made Cato uneasy. Here was yet more cover for Ajax, and the men under his own command would not be safe until the morning heat drove the mist away. Cato made his way across to the wounded and stood over Centurion Rufus. He nodded at his bandaged leg.
'How does it feel?'
'It hurts. Not enough to prevent me joining the main column.'
'I want you to take charge of the wounded,' Cato said firmly. 'I need a good man to ensure their safety.'
A brief look of disappointment crossed Rufus's face before he nodded. 'As you wish, sir.'
'You can rejoin us once the wounded are seen
to safety.' Cato looked round. 'Where's Macro?'
'He went forward to the picket line a bit earlier, sir.'
Cato nodded and then turned to stride up the street to the far end of the village. As he passed the animal pen he saw that it had burned to the ground during the night and a large tangled pile of charred remains stood within the damaged wall. The air around was still warm and filled with the stench of burned flesh. Cato quickened his pace and strode out of the village. A short distance along the path he saw the first two men keeping watch. At the sound of his footsteps one of them turned to challenge him.
'Who goes there?'
'Prefect Cato. Where's Centurion Macro?'
'Walking the line, sir. He went to the right, should be back any moment.'
'Any sign of the enemy on your watch?'
'No, sir. Nothing. Been as quiet as the grave.'
Cato stared into the mist shrouding the palms that grew alongside the path a short distance off. The long curved fronds of the trees made them look like stooped giants reaching out with their arms. His ears presently heard the sound of boots swishing through the grass beside the path and Macro strode out of the gloom.
'Morning, sir. Rested?'
'Yes, thank you. Anything to report?'
Macro shook his head. 'Nothing. Not a peep out of the renegades. Either they're inhumanly quiet, or they decided to put some distance between us before stopping for the night. I left the optios with orders to rouse the men at first light. Not long now.'
'Very good.'
'Oh, the only other thing is, Hamedes has taken a jar filled with ashes down to the dyke. Seems he had to place the ashes in an irrigation ditch, so they could eventually join the Nile. He said he had your permission.'
'That's right, as long as he doesn't go too far, with Ajax's men about.'
'He said he'd be careful, sir.'
'It's his funeral,' Cato replied and then shook his head. 'Not quite what I meant to say.'
Macro laughed briefly before he responded. 'You don't need to worry about him. He was game for a fight yesterday morning and he kept up with us across that swamp. Pretty good going for a priest. Not like those idle tossers back in Rome, or on the army staffs. He's all right, is Hamedes. I'll make a soldier of him yet.'
'I'm not quite sure that's what he has in mind.'
'You're wrong, sir. After what Ajax did at his temple that lad isn't going to rest easy until he's had his revenge.'
'Revenge?' Cato sighed. 'Seems to be the only thing that motivates us all. Hamedes, Ajax, you and me.'
Macro's eyes narrowed. 'If you're thinking that somehow we're all the same when it comes down to it, then you're wrong. Dead wrong. We executed Ajax's father because he was a bloody pirate. Ajax was condemned to slavery for the same reason. I'm telling you, that bastard deserves everything that's coming to him. The only question is which of us gets the chance to kill him. You, me, or even Hamedes.'
There was a cough and they both turned to see the priest standing a short distance away watching them. Cato was not sure how much Hamedes had heard and cleared his throat awkwardly.
'You've completed your rites, then?'
'Yes, I did what I could under the circumstances. I pray that the gods permit them entry to the afterlife.'
'Hmmm, yes, well, I'm sure you've done your best for them.' Cato looked up and saw that there was a faint loom of pearly grey in the mist. 'It'll be light soon. We'd best get the men ready to march.'
The column continued along the path in the pallid dawn. Cato and Macro went ahead with two sections of legionaries and Hamedes. They stayed close to the head of the main column in case the full force was needed in a hurry. Centurion Rufus followed up with the wounded, and an escort of marines.
A light breeze had picked up and rustled the leaves of the palms growing in clumps along the path. The mangrove soon gave way to swathes of reeds on either side but there was no sign that Ajax and his men had left the path and Cato led his men on, alert for any hint of trouble. As dawn came and the sun rose into the hazy sky, the mist began to lift and an hour or so later the reeds gave way to cleared areas where fields of wheat were fed with water from irrigation ditches. In the distance they caught the gleam of a broad expanse of water.
'That's one of the Nile tributaries,' Hamedes explained. 'We should find a settlement on the bank soon enough.'
'Like that, over there?' Macro pointed and Hamedes and Cato looked ahead to where smoke smudged into the sky. Macro frowned. 'That's not cooking smoke. That's a fire.'
Cato felt his heart sink at the thought of another village laid waste by Ajax and his men. 'Come on, let's pick up the pace,' he ordered, and the advance party lengthened their stride as the path changed direction through the tall grass and date palms and headed straight for the cloud of smoke. As they passed by more fields they could see the roofs of houses ahead, and hear the crackle of flame and then screams and shouts and Cato felt his guts tighten with bitter hatred for the gladiator. The path had broadened into a cart track and they approached the entrance to the village, another huddle of mud-brick buildings, some with additional walls to pen their donkeys, goats, cattle and chickens. A handful of people in the narrow street winding into the village turned at the sound of heavy boots and ran into their houses as soon as they caught sight of the Romans.
'Good spot for another ambush,' Macro commented as he considered the narrow street with alleys leading off it.
'If Ajax was still here, then those people wouldn't be,' Cato pointed out.
They emerged into an open space where a few market stalls stood. Beyond, a stretch of bare earth sloped down to the river. The remains of a handful of reed boats lay smouldering on the shore and a small crowd of natives stood in a cluster, wailing and crying. Cato led his men to the top of the riverbank and halted them, before continuing towards the villagers with Macro and Hamedes. The small crowd nervously parted before him and Cato saw several men sprawled on the ground, lying in their own blood which had poured from gashes in their bodies. Some women, slumped on their knees, leaned over the men, crying inconsolably.
'Looks like Ajax's work,' said Macro.
'Hamedes,' Cato gestured towards the crowd, 'ask them what happened.'
The priest approached them with open hands and there was a short exchange before he turned back to Cato.
'The villagers say that a column of armed men arrived here at dawn and took as many boats as they needed and set fire to the rest. These men tried to stop them, and were killed.'
'Must have been Ajax,' Cato decided. 'Ask them which way he went.'
Hamedes turned and spoke briefly before pointing upriver. 'That way, sir. You can still see them.'
Cato turned quickly to stare upriver. This stretch of the tributary meandered in a fairly gentle manner to the south and there, perhaps two miles away, he could see a handful of tiny fishing boats on the surface of the river, just about to disappear from sight around a bend in the river.
'Ask them if there are any other boats here, or nearby.'
'None,' Hamedes translated.
'What about another village?'
'There is one, half a day's march, downriver.'
'The wrong direction,' Macro growled. 'The bastard's given us the slip again.'
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
'This is not a very satisfactory state of affairs, is it, Prefect?' Governor Petronius tapped his finger on the report he had demanded of Cato the moment the small convoy had reached Alexandria. Even though Cato had secured some boats as soon as possible to pursue Ajax further up the Nile delta, he had lost track of him. They stopped at every village to question the locals and although a small group of reed boats had been discovered abandoned some forty miles north of Memphis, that was the last hint of the direction Ajax and his band had taken. Cato had continued to Memphis, whose inhabitants were greatly alarmed by the Nubian advance further up the Nile. Cato had commandeered one of the wide, flat-bottomed sailing vessels that plied the great river and set sail for A
lexandria to make his report.
Cato stood in front of the governor's desk and considered how best to respond to such a rhetorical question.
'Sir, the fact is that we discovered Ajax's base of operations and succeeded in putting it out of action. We took his ships and accounted for over two hundred of his men. He has between forty and fifty followers left. However, I fear that he still poses a considerable threat to the Empire. I shall, of course, continue to pursue him but I will need to have your warrant to ensure the cooperation of the province's officials along the Nile. In addition, I will need men to complete the task. A mounted cohort should suffice.'
Petronius let out a bitter laugh. 'A mounted cohort, you say? A modest request, you might think. But tell me, after having lost one of my warships and its entire crew, as well as thirty of my legionaries, what makes you think I would be prepared to entrust you with any more men? Well?'
'You can't afford not to, sir.'
'Oh, I think I can afford not to. Especially when my forces are thinly stretched as it is. The Nubians have already advanced as far as the first cataract. That fool, Legate Candidus, sent three of his auxiliary cohorts to intercept the Nubian vanguard. They were crushed. I gather barely half of them managed to escape.'
'That is what I heard at Memphis, sir.'
'Then you will appreciate why I seem reticent to lend any more troops to you. Hunting this gladiator down is no longer a priority. I need to concentrate all available forces to strike at the Nubians, and drive them out of the province.'
'I understand, sir, but if we fail to destroy Ajax then you can be sure that he will continue his private war against Rome. He has already nearly cost the Emperor the province of Crete as well as disrupting the sea trade in the eastern Mediterranean. He cannot be permitted to trouble the Empire any longer.'
'Nor will he, once the Nubians have been repulsed. Then, and only then, will I even consider providing you with any more resources to track down this criminal. Do you understand?'
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