'Yes, sir. I just don't agree with you.'
'Disagreement is not a privilege that a subordinate can exercise, Prefect,' Petronius snapped. 'I am the supreme power here in Egypt. I act in the name of the Emperor and while you are here in my province, you will do as I instruct. That is the end of the matter.' He paused and smiled coldly. 'Well, not quite.'
Cato stood still and silent, waiting for the governor to elaborate.
Petronius rose from his desk and crossed his study to the opposite wall where a long map of the Nile had been painted, from the delta all the way into southern Egypt. Beyond the line marking the frontier, the details were few. He reached up and tapped the map.
'Candidus is concentrating his forces at Diospolis Magna. In addition to the Twenty-Second Legion, he has two infantry cohorts of auxiliaries and two cavalry cohorts. That is all that can be spared. I have scraped together every spare man that I can to join the army. Now it seems that Candidus is short of a number of officers. His senior tribune was the officer commanding the auxiliary force defeated by the Nubians. He was killed in the fight. Candidus is also short of the full complement of centurions. Several of them were on detachment to frontier posts acting as magistrates. They were lost when the Nubians crossed the border.' Petronius turned round to face Cato. 'It is my decision to attach you and Centurion Macro to the Twenty-Second Legion for the duration of the present emergency.'
Cato had seen it coming and had already prepared his answer. 'I'm sorry, sir, but I have my orders from Governor Sempronius. I am to seek and destroy the slave Ajax and his followers. Until that is achieved I am not free to carry out any other duties.'
Petronius's expression hardened. 'How dare you address me so haughtily, you upstart little prig. Who the hell do you think you are? You are an over-promoted junior officer. There is not a drop of noble blood in your veins. You have no family or connections in Rome worth a bent sestertius. You are nothing more than Sempronius's little pet. You would do well to remember that.'
'I hold the commission of prefect, sir.'
'Oh, you may well hold the rank of prefect, for now, but your patron won't be able to save you from cocking up one day soon. Then you'll be broken back down to a rank more suited to your lack of years and experience.'
'Be that as it may, for now I am under the orders of Senator Sempronius.'
'You forget yourself, Prefect.' Petronius smiled. 'In Egypt I act in the name of the Emperor. There is no higher authority. If I give you a command, it is as if Claudius himself gave it. Is that not true?'
Cato pursed his lips. The governor was correct. He had the authority to do as he pleased, until recalled to Rome. He could overrule the orders of Sempronius if he wished and there was nothing Cato could do about it. 'Yes, sir. That's right.'
Petronius nodded his head. 'Then the matter is decided. You, and Centurion Macro, will leave for Diospolis Magna immediately. My chief of staff has already prepared your letters of appointment. You can collect them as you leave my offices. Any questions?'
'Yes, sir. May I take it that once the campaign against the Nubians is over, you will authorise me to renew the hunt for Ajax?'
'As you wish.' Petronius shrugged. 'However, I suspect that it will be some months before the Nubians have been dealt with. Unless the gladiator is a complete fool he will have fled the province long before then. If not, then I will be sure to consider any request you make. Now, Prefect, you are dismissed.'
'So, how did it go?' Macro asked as he slid a cup across the table to Cato and poured him some wine. He had been waiting in a tavern just outside the palace gates on the Canopic Way, the two hundred foot wide avenue that stretched across the heart of the city. Outside, in the midday sun, tens of thousands of Alexandrians discussed their business or conversed with friends, struggling to make themselves heard above the din of street hawkers and the merchants shouting about their wares to passers-by. Cato had brushed past them, ignoring the endless entreaties to examine their cheap souvenirs and antiques. The traders pursued him with promises that he need only look, without being hassled. Their promises were as cheap as the goods they sold and they only relented when Cato snarled at them to leave him alone.
Cato slumped down on to the stool opposite Macro and Hamedes and quickly drained the cup. He glanced at Hamedes.
'Shouldn't you be trying to find a vacancy in the priesthood of some temple?'
Hamedes snorted with derision. 'Here, in Alexandria?'
'Why not?' Cato gestured along the Canopic Way. 'There's hardly any shortage of temples in the city.'
'The temples here are run by Greek parasites. They filch money from the gullible to line their purses. I am a priest from the true temples of Egypt. I will not defile myself by serving in Alexandria.' Hamedes helped himself to a cup of wine. 'Besides, the Alexandrian priesthoods are a nice little earner and there aren't any vacancies right now.' He shrugged.
'A priest is a priest is a priest,' Macro muttered as he took the handle of the wine jug and eased it back over to his side of the table. 'Anyway, how did it go with the governor?'
'Let's just say that he wasn't too pleased that Ajax got away.'
'So is he going to give us enough men to track the bastard down?'
'Give us men?' Cato laughed drily. 'Far from it. You and I are being sent to join the fight against the Nubians.' Cato pulled the orders he had been given from inside his tunic and tossed them across the table to Macro. 'Read, if you want to.'
Macro gently pushed the papyrus scroll aside. 'What the hell is Petronius playing at? He knows how dangerous Ajax is.'
'It's a matter of priorities, apparently.'
'Priorities?' Macro frowned. 'Since when was letting the leader of a slave rebellion remain at large not a priority?'
'Ah, there you have me.' Cato clicked his tongue. 'That's what I said to the governor. But he was adamant that the Nubians had to be dealt with first. He's probably right,' Cato conceded. 'So, it's back to the army for both of us. Of course, that may yet serve our purpose.' Cato leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. 'The last we heard of Ajax was that he was heading up the Nile. He's on the run. He doesn't have many men left. The question is, what would you do in his place?'
Macro scratched his neck. 'Look for a new base to operate from. Find new allies…' He looked at Cato and cocked an eyebrow. 'The Nubians?'
'That's my thought.'
Macro was not so certain. 'It's a bit of a long shot. Why would he do that? Why not just find a nice quiet route out of the province and bugger off to some far corner of the Empire and cause trouble there?'
'Because the Nubians offer him the best chance of doing more damage to Rome.'
'And why would the Nubians take him on?'
'Wouldn't you? You've seen the handiwork of Ajax and his men. They'd be a useful asset to any army.'
'I suppose,' Macro responded thoughtfully. 'Though I doubt Ajax will take kindly to receiving orders rather than giving them. Trust me, Cato, I've had the chance to watch the man at length. He is determined to serve no master but himself.'
'We all have to swallow our pride sometimes.' Cato eased himself back. 'I could be wrong. He might already be on his way out of the province. But I doubt it. Not while we're here.' A sudden insight struck him. 'In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if he was hoping that we would be joining the army sent against the Nubians. All the more reason to join forces with them.'
'He hates us that much?'
Cato recalled the insane rage in Ajax's expression the night they had fought in the village and a familiar cold chill rippled down his spine. 'Yes. Yes, he does. I'm certain of it. And that is the only advantage we have right now.'
Hamedes cleared his throat. 'So, sir, when are you leaving for the upper Nile?'
'Tomorrow. There's a military convoy being loaded at the quay on Lake Mareotis. We've been given berths on one of the barges. We leave at dawn.'
'That soon?' Macro thought a moment and shrugged. 'Why not? If Ajax is waiting for
us there, the sooner we deal with the bastard the better.' He turned to Hamedes. 'Looks like we'll be parting company. Here's to you.' He raised his cup. 'As gypo guides go, you're all right.'
Hamedes looked at Cato. 'Is that a compliment, sir?'
'From him? Oh yes.' Cato lifted his cup as well. 'Thanks for your help.'
Hamedes seemed troubled. 'The truth is, sir, that I wish to find a place in one of the older temples that still hold to the old faith. Not here, with these con men. I want to return to the upper Nile, where I was raised.' His eyes gleamed. 'And you still need someone who speaks the native tongue, to help you find the gladiator and his followers. I might serve you a while yet, before returning to the priesthood. You know I have as much reason to find him as you do. The blood of my brother priests demands justice.'
'Yes.' Cato could see the intensity of Hamedes' gaze and guess at the feelings that filled his heart and mind and fuelled his desire for revenge. He nodded. 'Very well, you can join us. I'll have you enrolled as a scout. Might as well be paid for your efforts.'
The priest smiled. 'I am in your debt, sir.'
The Nile barges were heavily laden with military supplies for the coming campaign: baskets filled with arrows, the heavier shafts of ammunition for the bolt throwers, newly forged sword blades, shield bosses and trims, tubs of nails and boots. There were scores of legionaries and officers who had been on leave, or detached service, and were returning to their units, along with some fresh recruits. Cato, Macro and Hamedes, laden down with the kit they had retrieved from the Alexandrian fleet, boarded one of the last vessels to leave and were ushered out of the way to the small foredeck while the crew thrust the vessel away from the quay and hoisted the large triangular sail. The hold had been filled and sacks of grain and jars of oil and wine were heaped across the deck.
'It's a wonder the tub stays afloat,' Macro mused as he set his kitbag down and made himself comfortable under the small awning that covered the foredeck.
Cato nodded. There was scarcely more than a foot of freeboard over the side and he wondered what would happen if the barge was caught by a sudden gust of wind. With all the cargo aboard, it would surely sink like a rock and Cato had no desire to be pitched into the Nile. It was not the prospect of swimming to the nearest bank that concerned him so much as the thought of the crocodiles that might be lurking amid the reeds, waiting to snap up some easy prey.
'Rest easy, Centurion.' Hamedes smiled. 'The waters of the Nile are always calm, and the wind constant. There is no cause for alarm. Besides, I have an offering of a jar of oil for the Nile gods.' He patted his kitbag. 'They will protect us.'
'I'm not bloody alarmed,' Macro growled. 'I'm just saying the boat looks overloaded, that's all.'
Hamedes nodded understandingly and then stretched himself out on his back, resting his head carefully on the bulky kitbag he had brought aboard and settled down to get some sleep. The two Romans watched the receding skyline of Alexandria for a while, taking turns to sip from a wineskin that Macro had bought in one of the markets of the Canopic Way. At length, Macro coughed and turned to Cato.
'Do you really think Ajax will be down there, with the Nubians?'
'The more I think about it, the more certain I am,' Cato replied. 'It offers him the best way of continuing his war against Rome.'
'And us?'
'Why not? There's every chance of killing two birds with one stone. Where else would we be when the governor needs every soldier he can scrape together to repel the invasion?'
'I'm not so keen on being considered to be part of the scrapings, if it's all the same to you.' Macro flashed a smile. 'But I take your point. And if you're right, it should make the task of finding Ajax that much easier. But duty first, eh? Defeat the Nubians and then find Ajax.'
'Defeating the Nubians might be a rather harder task than you think.'
'How so?'
'I had a word with one of Petronius's staff officers before I left the palace. I wanted some information on the forces available to Candidus. The two infantry cohorts sound like good formations, but the cavalry is under strength. It's the Twenty-Second I'm not so sure about.'
'They're legionaries. They'll stand up to whatever the Nubians throw at them.'
'I hope so.' Cato rubbed his chin and wished that he had taken the opportunity to have a shave in Alexandria before embarking. 'The fact is that the Twenty-Second is something of an oddity.'
'Oh? What's their story, then?'
'The legion was raised by Mark Antony. He filled the ranks with men from Cleopatra's army. When Antony was defeated by Octavian, the Twenty-Second was integrated into the rest of the army and has been stationed on the Nile since then. They're a mix of Greeks and Egyptians from the Nile cities.'
'You think they might be a bit soft then?'
'Maybe. They have had no part in a major campaign since the civil war. For most of them, this is going to be the first action they've gone into. I just hope they've been trained well enough for the job.'
Macro shook his head. 'Cato, even if the quality of the men is suspect, they're still commanded by centurions, and centurions, my friend, are the same the world over. As hard and demanding a bunch as you will ever find.'
'Not all of them. We've seen our share of bad officers in our time.'
'A few bad eggs, that's all,' Macro replied tersely, not willing to endure too much disparagement of the brotherhood he felt honoured to be a part of. 'The centurionate has a fine tradition. There are always exceptions.'
'Then let's hope we don't find too many of them in the Twenty-Second. '
'I need some rest,' Macro announced suddenly. He removed the armour from his kitbag and punched spare tunics, cloak and boots that remained into a rough pillow and laid his head down, turning his back to his friend. Cato smiled at his touchiness, and then eased himself down on to an elbow as the barge entered the canal that linked the lake to the Nile. On either side the banks were lined with reeds and clumps of palm trees, interspersed with small settlements of the ubiquitous mud-brick houses. Women were busy taking advantage of the cooler morning temperature to wash clothes in the placid waters while children played slightly further out, splashing each other, their shrill cries of joy carrying clearly across the canal. As the barges sailed past, they stopped their games to wave, and Cato smiled as he waved back.
He had grown so used to the demands and the strains of commanding soldiers that he had forgotten some of the simple pleasures of life, he realised sadly. His childhood seemed all too brief to him at that moment. He brushed the sentiment aside, cross with himself for allowing a moment's idleness to sour his mood. He realised that there would be plenty of time for reflection in the next few days, and resolved that he would focus his thoughts on more useful, and pleasing, matters, such as the future he planned to have with Julia when he returned to Rome. And so he spent the rest of the morning watching the landscape of Egypt drift by as the convoy made its way upriver towards Diospolis Magna. Occasionally Macro and Hamedes stirred and exchanged a few words, before closing their eyes again. In the afternoon the convoy left the canal behind and entered the river. The sun beat down on the barges, and a steady hot breeze blew over the deck like the heat from a nearby furnace.
At dusk the barges put into the shore and grounded gently on a grassy stretch of the riverbank. Fires were lit and rations issued and the insects began to swarm round in whining clouds of dark specks against the light of the flames. Hamedes said he would bed down amongst the sailors, once he had drunk his fill of wine.
'Suit yourself,' Macro responded. 'But I'm not going to lie out here and get bitten to death.'
Macro called over several of the legionaries and ordered them to erect the tent he and Cato would be sharing.
'Quick as you can now, lads!' Macro barked as he swatted the mosquitoes away. 'Before these little bastards drain the blood out of me.'
As soon as the tent was up, Macro ducked inside and laid his bedroll out on the ground. Cato joined him a little lat
er, after a last look up at the brilliant display of stars in the heavens. The glow of the fires lit up the linen walls of the tent and occasionally the wavering shadows of men passed along the cloth, like the profiles of the paintings he had seen on the province's temples, Cato decided. No air moved through the tent and it was hot inside. Cato slipped his tunic off and lay sweating in his loincloth. On the other side of the tent, Macro had quickly fallen asleep, even though he had rested most of the day, and his rumbling snores vied with the sounds of chatter and laughter of the men by the fires. Cato smiled and closed his eyes. He might as well make the most of this short, restful interval, he decided.
He woke suddenly, not moving, his eyes wide open, staring up at the roof of the tent. Cato was not sure what had broken his sleep and he was about to stir when he heard the faint sound of movement outside the tent. Then the sound was gone and with a sigh he turned on to his side and closed his eyes again. At once there was a low rush of sound like a long sharp escape of breath. Cato's eyes snapped open as he realised that he and Macro were not alone in the tent. He slowly turned himself back and raised his head to look round. The campfires were still burning and provided a faint rosy light inside the tent. A short distance away, close to the foot of Macro's bedroll, a slender shape rose up from the ground, swaying slightly.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Cato felt his blood freeze in his veins. He sat up, and the noise came again as the shape lurched sideways, moving between the two bedrolls.
'Oh shit,' Cato whispered. He kept as still as he could, eyes fixed on the snake. Behind it he could see the tent pole with his sword and that of Macro's hanging on the peg. His heartbeat increased to a pounding rhythm as he thought frantically. If he moved again he was sure that the serpent would attack. Instead, he licked his lips nervously and whispered as loudly as he dared.
'Macro… Macro… Wake up.'
The snoring broke up and there was an incoherent muttered grumble from the other side of the tent.
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