The Legion c-10

by Simon Scarrow

  The man glanced back and shook his head. 'Nothing for days, sir. Last I heard was that their mounted troops had been seen as far north as Ombos.'

  'Where's that?'

  'A hundred or so miles upriver.'

  Macro turned to Cato. 'Not exactly blazing a path through the underbelly of the province, are they? And Candidus isn't exactly rushing to drive them back either.'

  Cato shrugged. 'I'm sure the legate has his reasons.'

  'I'd be interested in hearing them.'

  They strode down through the last set of pylons, and saw another avenue of Sphinxes heading towards the temple of Amun, over a mile away. A short distance from the avenue was a large low building, surrounded by another mud-brick wall. A section of legionaries stood guard at the gate.

  'This way, sir.' Their guide gestured to Cato. The optio in command of the gate raised a hand as they approached.

  'Halt! State your business.'

  'Officers joining the legion,' the legionary explained and stood aside as Cato reached inside his tunic and took out his orders and handed them over for the optio to inspect. He ran his eyes over the papyrus scroll and then saluted. 'Welcome to the Jackals, sir.'

  'Jackals?'

  The optio turned and pointed at the standard rising up above the gate leading into the priests' quarters. Above the legion's number, a depiction of a canine head in gold stood out against the red cloth of the fall. Cato and Macro briefly examined the standard and exchanged a knowing glance: there wasn't a single battle honour adorning the staff.

  'I expect you'll want to be entered on to the roll, sir.'

  Cato nodded. 'But first I wish to see the legate.'

  'He's not here, sir. You'll have to see the camp prefect instead. Caius Aurelius.'

  'Where is the legate?'

  'He left the army several days ago, sir. I heard he was touring the forts along the Nile to make sure they were adequately prepared to hold out against the Nubians.'

  'When is he due back?'

  'Can't say, sir. Best ask the camp prefect.'

  'Where do I find him?'

  'Through the gates and straight on, sir. Admin offices are just beyond the pool.'

  'Pool?' Macro smiled as they strode through the gates. 'Sounds like a cushy posting.'

  In stark contrast to the bland exterior of the wall running round the priests' quarters, the interior afforded comfort in some style at first glance. Palm trees shaded the paved paths that surrounded the buildings. Flower beds were watered by pipes that ran through the gardens. Few plants remained, however, and those that did were sadly neglected and their leaves were covered in a layer of fine dust. The path from the entrance led through a double line of columns and opened out on to a tiled courtyard surrounded by airy cells. A large awning covered the courtyard and in its shade the staff of the headquarters had set up their trestle tables. The clerks were busy cleaning their pens and putting aside their work as they looked forward to the evening meal. On the far side of the courtyard was another line of columns and beyond they could see the mirror gleam of water. The cells of the second courtyard were given over to the senior officers of the army and cots had been set up at the back of each cell while a desk stood at the front. Several officers were still hard at work and Cato asked a passing orderly for the camp prefect.

  'Over there, sir. Far end of the pool.' He pointed out a slight man with dark, tightly curled hair, hunched over a large desk as he examined a document. Cato led the small party round the shallow pool. As he approached the cell, the camp prefect glanced up. He looked tired and anxious.

  'Yes?'

  'Prefect Cato, sir. I've been sent from Alexandria to take up the senior tribune's vacancy. My orders.' He handed the document over. 'This is Centurion Macro, assigned to the legion.'

  'And him?' He nodded at Hamedes.

  'Our scout, sir.'

  Aurelius quickly glanced at the orders and pushed them to one side. 'It's good to have you with us. Even though we had a junior tribune join us yesterday we're still short of the full complement of officers, particularly in the First Cohort. Our best officers can be called on to act as magistrates right across the province. Two of our centurions were serving south of Ombos and we've had no word from them. The same goes for the first spear. He was overseeing the construction of a new fort at Pselchis. Frankly, I fear the worst.'

  'Sorry to hear it, sir,' said Macro.

  'Well, perhaps no news is good news,' Aurelius replied unconvincingly. 'In the meantime, Prefect Cato, you're acting senior tribune. Centurion Macro gets command of the First Century.' He tapped the scrolls. 'You come highly recommended, and we need experienced officers. As you might know, it's a while since the entire legion saw active service. We've been carrying out policing action most of the time. Still, the opposition's little more than a mob of mounted brigands. That's what we're told, anyway.'

  As the man spoke, in his high voice with its sing-song cadence and rhythm, Cato's earlier fears about the combat readiness of the legion seemed to be justified. Aurelius was clearly a man far more at home wielding a stylus than a gladius. Cato could only hope that the legate had wider military experience.

  'Sir, if I may, I'd like to present myself to Legate Candidus at the earliest opportunity when he returns. I need to speak to him about the possibility of an additional threat to this region.'

  'I'm sure you would like to speak to Candidus,' the camp prefect replied. 'So would I. The fact is, he said he would be back three days ago. I've sent patrols to look for him but there's no sign of him on the road to Ombos. The gods only know where he's got to.'

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  The Nubian army was in camp twenty miles to the north of Ombos, in a shallow loop of the Nile that watered their horses and camels, as well as the herds of goats that served as mobile rations. There was little sense of the orderly layout that Ajax had seen in the Roman army at Diospolis Magna. The gladiator had halted his column of mounted men on a rocky outcrop a mile away from the camp. Prince Talmis's forces sprawled across the flattened fields of wheat. Ajax estimated that the Nubian army must be at least thirty thousand strong. There were tents dotted around, but most of the men had erected temporary shelters constructed from palm fronds. The majority of the Prince's men seemed to be Nubian warriors, with a smaller contingent of Arabs, swathed in flowing dark robes. At the heart of the camp lay a cluster of larger tents, and Ajax could make out a loose ring of spearmen guarding the cleared perimeter that stretched a short distance around the tents.

  'That's where I think we'll find Prince Talmis.'

  Karim nodded. 'I hope you're right about this, General.'

  'Trust me. He'll welcome us. Especially when we offer him a few tokens of our friendship.' Ajax smiled as he patted the sacks hanging across the back of his horse. 'Relax, Karim, if there's one thing you can be certain of in this world it's that the principle of my enemy's enemy being my friend applies everywhere.'

  The flesh wound he had received from Cato was still healing and Ajax twisted round carefully in his saddle to inspect his men. Only twenty-eight of them were still with him. Some had been lost in a skirmish with the Romans five days earlier, and more when they had raided an outpost to seize the horses. Still, most of the gladiators who had formed his bodyguard back during the rebellion in Crete had survived, as had the strongest of the slaves he had liberated from the captured ships. They handled their weapons competently enough, and had plenty of courage and loyalty and in time would prove themselves alongside the cadre of gladiators.

  'When we approach their camp, keep your hands away from your weapons. Whatever happens, you do nothing unless I give the order. Is that clear?'

  His men nodded.

  Ajax gestured to the tall Nubian gladiator mounted astride a horse whose hide was as black as the skin of its rider. 'Hepithus, come forward!'

  'Yes, General.' The Nubian clicked his tongue and urged his mount alongside.

  'Those are your people. You will act as my translator. Only
use the words I speak to you, and you will tell me all that passes between those who address us.'

  Hepithus nodded.

  Ajax turned back to scan the camp spread out before him. Half a mile from the foot of the outcrop a score of warriors mounted on camels slowly patrolled the northern approaches to the camp. Ajax pointed them out to Karim and Hepithus. 'We'll make for those men. If there's any trouble we'll have plenty of room to make our escape.'

  'I thought you said we were guaranteed a warm welcome,' said Karim.

  Ajax smiled. 'It is as well to be prepared in case the welcome is too warm, my friend.' He flicked his reins. 'Let's go.'

  The small column of horsemen began their descent from the outcrop. A narrow path wound down the slope on to the river plain and the hoofs of the horses immediately kicked up a haze of dust that was bound to be seen by the Nubian patrol. Sure enough, Ajax saw them halt briefly, then one rider turned and urged his camel into a loping gallop as he raced back towards the camp. The rest spread out into a line and turned to approach the horsemen. As they came on, Ajax saw them draw out light javelins from the long quivers hanging from their saddle frames. He turned to call back to his men. 'Remember. Keep your hands away from your weapons unless I say otherwise.'

  The gap between the two formations rapidly narrowed and when they were no more than a hundred paces away from the line of camels, Ajax raised his hand and reined in. 'Halt!'

  The column clopped to a standstill and the men sat in their saddles, both hands holding on to their reins. The camels approached steadily and then, when they were within javelin range, their leader called out an order and they slowed and stopped. The riders wore dark robes and headdresses and held their weapons in an overhand grip, ready to hurl them the instant they received the order.

  Ajax cleared his throat and raised a hand in greeting. 'We come as friends. I wish to speak with Prince Talmis.' He nodded to Hepithus and the Nubian spoke with the leader of the patrol, then turned to Ajax.

  'He asks who you are.'

  'Then tell him that I am Ajax, the gladiator, leader of the rebellion against Rome on the island of Crete, and I have come to offer my services to Prince Talmis, against our common enemy.'

  Hepithus translated and there was a short pause before the leader of the patrol spoke again.

  'He wants us to hand our weapons over to his men. Then he will escort us into their camp.'

  Karim edged his mount forward and spoke quietly. 'General, it would not be wise to venture any further without the means to defend ourselves.'

  Ajax took a deep breath and shook his head. 'We will do as he says. Swords out!'

  There was a chorus of steely rasps as his men drew their weapons and held them ready. The Nubians stirred uneasily and several raised their javelins.

  'Throw them down!' Ajax ordered and tossed his sword to one side. His men followed suit, save Karim who watched the Nubians warily.

  'Do as I say,' Ajax hissed angrily. 'Now.'

  Karim swung his arm down and the sword stuck into the ground close by the heel of his boot. The leader of the patrol shouted an order and four of his men made their camels kneel before they slid from the saddles and ran across to the column of horsemen to gather up the weapons. They hurried back and placed them in their saddle buckets before remounting and urging their camels back on to their feet. There was a brief series of throaty grunts from the camels before all was still again. The patrol leader gestured to Ajax to follow him and turned his camel towards the camp. Half his men followed him, and the rest waited for the horsemen to pass by before taking up the rear.

  As they entered the camp, the nearest Nubians stood up and watched curiously as they passed by. The odour of manure and woodsmoke filled the air and Ajax cast a professional fighter's eye over the warriors of Prince Talmis's army. Those on the outer fringes of the camp were lightly armed, barely more than simple tribesmen armed with hunting spears and hide shields. Some had bows, or javelins. What they may have lacked in equipment they made up for in numbers. Ajax estimated there must be at least fifteen thousand of them. The next section of the camp was given over to men with swords and armour. Many wore breastplates over long robes and bronze helmets rimmed with linen to shade their faces and necks. There were several thousand of these armoured warriors and Ajax felt his heart lighten at the prospect of the odds facing the far smaller Roman army camped downriver.

  Ahead lay the open patch of ground surrounding the complex of tents belonging to Prince Talmis and his generals, Ajax surmised. To their right, in the bend of the river, thousands of horses and camels grazed on the crops of the Egyptian peasants, or drank from the river.

  The leader of the patrol halted as he was approached by several of the spearmen guarding the perimeter around the tents. A few words were exchanged and the commander of the spearmen stared suspiciously for a moment before he waved the riders through and pointed to a line of tethering posts a short distance from the tents. Ajax's men were escorted by the camel riders and the spearmen and when they reached the posts, Ajax gave the command for his men to dismount and stand by their horses. One of the spearmen trotted off to the nearest tent and a moment later an officer, in ornate flowing robes and a gleaming vest of scale armour, emerged. He strode up to Ajax and looked him over with dark, deep-set eyes.

  'I am told you wish to speak to my Prince.' He spoke in fluent Greek.

  'I do.' Ajax nodded. 'I intend to offer him the services of myself and my warriors.'

  The officer turned his gaze on Ajax's men, noting their powerful physiques and the scars that many bore on their faces and limbs.

  'Are you deserters?'

  'We are gladiators.'

  'Slaves then,' the officer sneered.

  'No longer. We took our freedom with our own hands and have been fighting Rome ever since. Rome is our enemy, as it is yours. That is why we offer our service to your Prince.'

  'And what can you offer him that his own men can't, I wonder?'

  'This.' Ajax smiled and reached for the sacks tied across the back of his horse. He hauled them down and dropped them heavily on the ground at the feet of the officer. The spearmen tensed and lowered the tips of their spears a fraction, ready to strike. Ajax bent down to untie the tops of the sacks and then reached into the first. He drew out a bundle of red cloth and tossed it to the officer. The latter did not flinch as he caught it and unravelled the material to expose a red standard, cut from its jack. It carried the legend 'Legatus' in gold letters, and beneath, smeared with dried blood, 'Candidus'.

  The officer smiled. 'So, slave, you stole the personal banner of the Roman general? Impressive, but my Prince needs warriors, not common thieves.'

  'We did more than steal his banner, my friend.' Ajax reached further into the sack with both hands and drew out a severed head. He raised it by the hair and held it aloft. The skin was mottled and the eyelids half open over dull eyes. The jaw was slack and the teeth gleamed behind blackened lips. The warm air was filled with the stink of decaying flesh and the officer's nose wrinkled. He took a step back.

  'May I introduce Legate Caius Candidus, lately commander of the Roman army camped at Diospolis Magna. I have his ring hand in the bag as further proof of his identity. The other sack contains the heads of the officers who were riding with him when my men and I attacked the legate and his escort five days ago.'

  The interior of the Prince's tent was spacious and the ground covered with rugs and cushions. Light entered through slits in the roof held up by several stout posts. Ajax was standing in the middle of the tent, lit from above so that his body was framed with a faint halo as he faced the Prince. Talmis lay on a couch to the rear of the tent. He wore a white robe and bejewelled gold rings adorned his dark fingers. Like Ajax he was powerfully built and the outline of his muscled limbs was evident beneath the light folds of his robes. The Nubian Prince's face was broad and a finely trimmed beard ran neatly round his jaw.

  On a large brass platter between the two men lay the heads of the R
oman officers and the ring hand of Candidus. Talmis regarded them for a moment before his gaze moved up to the gladiator standing before him, flanked by two watchful spearmen from the Prince's bodyguard.

  'It is customary for visitors to kneel before me.' Talmis spoke Greek, like many of the more educated members of his father's court. His tone was neutral but Ajax was well aware of the veiled threat implied by the words. Nonetheless, he remained standing and put the onus on the Prince to continue speaking.

  'Why do you not kneel to me, gladiator? I can hardly believe that your Roman masters did not teach you the deference demanded of a slave.'

  'I am no longer a slave, Your Highness,' Ajax replied firmly. 'Neither are my followers. We are free men, by right of arms. We acknowledge no master and have no loyalty to any kingdom. Therefore we kneel to no man.'

  'I see,' Talmis replied slowly, and his lips framed a faint smile. 'Such hubris is a bold approach when you stand unarmed in the middle of my army's camp. If I wished, I could have you cut down to size, should you refuse to kneel to me. And what is a man without his legs?'

  'If you harmed me, you would have to kill my men also. And that would deprive you of a useful ally in your fight against Rome. Not to mention those of your men we would kill before you destroyed us.'

  'I think you underestimate my bodyguards, gladiator.'

  'Really?' Ajax smiled. Then, before the men either side of him could react, he turned and snatched the spear from the man to his right, thrust the shaft between the man's legs and flipped the shaft up so that the guard's leg shot up, and he toppled heavily on to his back. Ajax spun round, spear held in both fists, and blocked the thrust aimed at his chest by the other man, then slammed the butt into his face. Dazed, the man's fingers released his spear and it slipped to the ground. Ajax hooked his foot behind the guard's boot and thrust again with the butt of the spear, sending him thudding to the ground. He spun the spear round and stood over the guard, holding the tip of the spear an inch from his throat. He paused, then lowered the spear and grasped the man's hand and hauled him up before thrusting the spear back into the hands of the first guard who had only just scrambled back on to his feet.