'Yes, sir.'
Cato glanced at the Prince and his men. 'If they make any attempt to escape before the signal is given, kill the men. Take the Prince alive, if you can.'
Macro moved closer to Cato and muttered, 'What's to stop us killing him anyway? Once we have Ajax?'
Cato shook his head. 'Talmis poses little danger to Rome. I think that this defeat will weaken him. He'll be busy keeping his followers in line as it is. If we kill him, we give the Nubians a grievance that will need to be avenged.'
Macro shrugged. 'If you say so. Frankly, one more dead Nubian suits me fine.'
Cato nodded to the decurion. 'You have your orders.'
The decurion turned in his saddle to call back down the line. 'Castor! Decius! Dismount and escort the legate!'
The two tough-looking men swung down from their saddles and handed the reins to their comrades before unhooking their shields and trotting forward to the two officers. Cato dismounted and gestured to them to follow him. 'You too, Macro. And you, Junius.'
He led the way down to join the Nubian captain as they waited for the skiff. The men in the small boat worked the oars hard as they fought the current. As they waited, Cato stepped aside from the others. 'Macro, over here.'
They moved out of earshot and Cato turned to his friend with a searching look. 'When we get hold of Ajax it is my intention to take him back to Rome alive. Do you understand?'
Macro was silent for a moment and his expression hardened as he replied through gritted teeth. 'After all that bastard's done? You haven't forgotten Crete, Cato. But then it wasn't you he held captive in that shitty cage. It was me, and Julia.'
'I know.'
'Bollocks. I say we kill him, dump his body in the Nile and be done with it.'
'Those were not our orders.'
'Orders?' Macro leaned closer, face to face with Cato. 'Fuck the orders… Fuck 'em. Fuck Sempronius, Narcissus, the Emperor. Fuck the lot of 'em. I don't care. Ajax owes me, and I want my revenge.' He paused and softened his tone as best he could. 'Cato, lad, I need revenge, and so do you, for Julia's sake.'
'I won't speak for her.'
Macro stabbed his finger at Cato's harness. 'She's going to be your wife. Do you think you can live with that precious conscience of yours, knowing what he did to her and yet letting him live an instant longer than necessary?'
'Ajax will die,' Cato replied firmly. 'He will be condemned by the Emperor and crucified. You know it.'
'Oh, he'll be condemned all right, but what if Claudius decides to send him to the arena? You know how good he is. If anyone can win over the mob, it'll be Ajax. Then what? Supposing Claudius spares him, as a sop to the mob? Even if he dies, he'll go out a hero. Either with a sword in his hand spitting defiance, or screaming his hatred of Rome from the cross. If he's crucified, he'll be a martyr, just like Spartacus before him.'
'Then we'll have to bridge that cross when, or if, we come to it.' Cato grasped his friend's arm. 'Macro. We have no choice. We have our orders and I will carry them out. And so will you. Give me your word on it, or I'll have no choice but to send you back to the camp.'
Macro's face flinched with the effort of containing the poisonous rage that Ajax had planted in his heart many months before. At length he sucked in a deep breath through his teeth. 'As you command… sir.'
'Thank you.' Cato bowed his head slightly in gratitude before he glanced towards the river. 'The boat's here. Let's go.'
They returned to the others as the skiff reached the shore. One of the men hopped over the side with a splash and guided the bows in. The captain climbed aboard and settled in the stern before the others took their places; Macro and Cato opposite the captain, then the two auxiliaries and Junius on the small triangular deck at the front. The Nubian pushed the boat off and the man at the oars turned the craft and started to propel it back across the glassy expanse of river towards the landing stage on the island. One of the legionaries leaned out to look down at the water and the boat rolled slightly to that side.
'Sit back!' Macro snapped. 'Don't move again.'
'Sorry, sir.'
The skiff was heavily laden and awkward to move and the man at the oars had to work hard to keep on course. The sun was beginning to sink into a murky orange haze to the west and the dark forms of birds swooped low over the water, feeding off the insects. They were not the only animals feeding, Cato realised as the skiff approached the landing stage. There was a movement in the reeds away to the left and a long glistening snout protruded briefly through the slender green growths, then with a swirl of water and swish amongst the tops of the reeds, it was gone.
The skiff approached the landing stage, constructed from stone in the forgotten days when priests once came to the shrine to make offerings. Now the stone was worn with age and mottled with bird droppings. The man at the oars shouted over his shoulder to Junius, and then pointed to the rope loosely coiled beside the tribune. Junius nodded his understanding and took up the rope, reaching out to the iron ring that was fastened to the side of the stonework. A thrust of the oars brought it within reach and the tribune grasped it and pulled the boat in. As soon as he could he slipped the end of the rope through the ring and pulled it back, drawing the craft closer. Once the craft was securely moored, Junius clambered ashore and helped the others up. When they were all on firm ground, Macro turned to the Nubian captain.
'You speak Greek?'
'Little.'
'Then no tricks, understand?' Macro slapped his scabbard. 'Or else.'
The captain nodded and then led the way up a crumbling stone path lined with palm trees. It was only a short climb before they emerged close to the entrance to the shrine. Cato turned back and saw the distant figures watching them from the riverbank. Then he strode towards the entrance with the rest of the party, his heart beating swiftly as he anticipated the meeting with Ajax. At his side Macro's expression was grim and his lips pressed tightly together. The two auxiliaries followed Macro, and Cato and Junius took up the rear. The sentry at the gate saluted as he saw the captain and there was a brief exchange before the Nubian led the party inside the shrine.
The interior was enclosed in a ten-foot wall on which hieroglyphs had been deeply carved to let the shadows accentuate each character. Two figures sat with their backs to the far wall, watched by two men with spears, some fifteen feet away. Ajax looked up as the new arrivals stood in the entrance. For a moment his face was blank, then his keen gaze took in the weapons in the hands of the Romans and he smiled weakly.
'So, Prince Talmis has been defeated. I wondered. Now I am to be your victim instead of his.'
Cato stared at the gladiator, his mind seething with hatred and a constant refrain to remember his orders. There was something else he was dimly aware of at the same time: a vague sense of disappointment that the long hunt had come to an end.
'We go,' announced the captain.
'What?' Cato turned to him. The Nubian gestured to his men and pointed in the direction of the skiff. Cato nodded curtly.
The captain called to his men and they backed away from the prisoners and gathered their haversacks and joined their officer. Then, with a brief nod to Cato, the Nubian led his men out of the shrine. Cato heard the pad of boots fading away and then there was silence as the prisoners and the Romans gazed at each other.
Ajax broke the silence. 'What will you do with me?'
'Take you back to Rome,' Cato said tonelessly.
'I see. You will make a spectacle of my death? A warning to other slaves of the cost of defying Rome.'
'I imagine that's what the Emperor will want. Frankly, I don't care about that. Macro and I just want to see you pay for all the suffering you have caused.'
'And what of the suffering you caused me?'
Macro growled. 'Your father was a bloody pirate. He deserved his end. As you deserve yours.'
Ajax glanced past the two officers and a brief smile flickered across his face. At once Cato felt an icy tremor course down his back. He t
urned to follow the direction of the gladiator's eyes. Behind him stood the two auxiliaries, spears grasped firmly as they watched the prisoners closely. Beyond them Junius had drawn his sword and was waving it from side to side. The signal for the release of Prince Talmis. Cato felt his anger rising. 'I didn't give the order to-'
Junius stepped forward and swung his sword into the back of the nearest auxiliary's neck, cutting through the spine. The man's mouth sagged open as he collapsed. The other man half turned and looked down at his stricken companion, too shocked to react fast enough to save his life. Junius stepped forward and stabbed him in the throat.
'What?' Cato stared at the tribune aghast. It was Macro who grasped the truth first. He tore out his sword and turned on Junius.
'Traitor!' he roared. 'He's the one!'
'Traitor?' Cato felt as if he had been struck numb. The image of Hamedes lying dead with a knife in his back leapt into his mind. He felt sick with the terrible knowledge of his mistake. 'No… Not Junius.'
The tribune grinned. 'I doubt you'll ever find the body of Junius. The jackals along the road from Memphis will have seen to that. That's where we caught him, on his way to join the legion.'
He threw his sword over Cato's head and ducked down to snatch up one of the auxiliary's spears. The sword thudded into the ground in front of Ajax and he snatched it up and sprang to his feet, as did the other prisoner. Ajax laughed harshly.
'My thanks, Canthus. You save me again.' Ajax pointed the sword at Cato. 'The legate is mine. Deal with the centurion.'
'Canthus?' Cato felt sick, but still had enough presence of mind to draw his sword. The young man lowered the tip of his spear and thrust at Macro. His action was fast and Macro only just had time to lurch to one side to avoid the weapon. At once his opponent feinted again as he tried to keep him off balance. But Macro had managed to drop into a balanced crouch and easily parried the blow aside. The two men watched each other closely.
A padding of feet caused Cato to turn, just as Ajax slashed out with his sword. The tip hissed through the air and Cato ducked. Thrusting his blade up, Cato stabbed at Ajax's side. It was a hurried stroke, yet the blade cut through his soiled tunic and gashed the muscly flesh over the gladiator's ribs. Ajax snarled ferociously and backed off a step. He reached round with his spare hand to touch the wound. Behind him Cato saw his companion, Karim, the swarthy lieutenant he recalled from the rebellion on Crete. The man was hurrying round the far wall of the shrine, towards Macro's back.
'Macro! Watch out!'
As Cato shouted the warning, Ajax lunged forward, slashing at Cato's face. He tried to scramble away, but the sword point cut high on his forehead and swept on down across his brow, nose and cheek. It felt as if he had been hit in the face by a red-hot hammer and his vision instantly blurred and a terrible, agonising pain seared across his consciousness, blotting out thought of anything else. Cato stumbled back and fell, his sword slipping from his fingers. The impact drove the breath from his lungs and blood spilled into his eyes and blinded him.
Macro heard the warning, and saw Canthus's gaze flicker to his right. Macro pounced forward, hammering his sword down on the fingers of the hand nearest him. The blade cut through and the severed digits dropped from the spear shaft. Canthus howled with pain. Macro ran on, and with his full weight behind the punch, smashed his fist into Canthus's face. As Canthus staggered under the blow, Macro struck with his sword, a savage blow to the side of his head that split his skull with a wet crack. Before Canthus hit the ground, Macro turned on the spot, bracing his feet and holding his sword point out. Karim could not check his sprint in time to avoid the weapon. The point plunged through his chest, shattering his sternum, driving the air from his lungs in a hot blast into Macro's face. Even so the impetus of his charge drove his body on and both men crashed to the floor, the point of Macro's sword bursting out of the rebel's back. Karim glared down at the centurion as blood dripped from his open mouth. Both hands reached up, desperately feeling for the Roman's throat. Macro felt them begin to claw at his neck and heaved him aside, wrenching at the blade.
There was a sudden blur of movement from the other side of the shrine as Ajax charged towards him. Macro slashed out with his sword, aiming it at the gladiator's knee. But Ajax's reflexes had been finely honed in the arena and he leaped high to avoid the blow, over Macro and the body of Karim, and ran on another two paces before scrambling to a stop and turning to face the centurion. Macro rolled on to his feet and rose in a crouch, sword held out to the side, ready. Neither man moved for a moment; and their breathing, the fading gasps of Karim and the moans of Cato echoed softly off the ancient walls.
Ajax licked his lips. 'You should have killed me alongside my father.'
'Yes, I should,' Macro muttered. 'That was a mistake… which I intend to correct.'
He paced forward and swung at the gladiator. Ajax parried the blows and then counterattacked with a swift series of thrusts and cuts that tested Macro's swordsmanship and sharp reactions to the limit. Then he stepped back and they stared at each other in the failing light. The blood from Ajax's side was flowing freely and he could feel the warm trickle running down the outside of his thigh. He knew that he would begin to weaken soon. The telltale chill already pricked at his skin. Soon his vision would begin to blur. The veteran instructor who had trained Ajax years before had drilled into his students the danger signs associated with wounds. As soon as a man knew that he was weakening, he must strike, or soon be reduced to begging the mob for Mercy. Ajax launched another flurry of blows and the clash of blades echoed shrilly off the surrounding walls. Still he could find no way past the Roman's defences. He caught the cold look of satisfaction on Macro's face.
Macro saw the wound in the gladiator's side and the streak of blood on his leg. Evenly matched as they were, time was against Ajax. His loss of blood would steadily slow him down and in the end Macro would kill him. Revenge would be his.
Ajax nodded bitterly as he grasped the truth of his situation. 'You think you have won, Roman. Do you really think you will defeat me? Do you think I, Ajax, would permit that?' He sneered. 'While I live, the flame of rebellion will burn in the hearts of slaves everywhere. And I live as long as you have no proof that I am dead. By that measure, you are defeated today.'
Before Macro could grasp his meaning, Ajax turned and sprinted towards the entrance and ran out into the dusk.
'Shit!' Macro glanced at Cato, momentarily torn by the urge to help his friend. Then he turned and ran after Ajax. The gladiator ignored the path leading down to the landing stage and headed across the cracked paving stones in front of the shrine, down the smoothed boulders and into the long grass. Macro followed him, losing ground thanks to his shorter legs. The grass rustled and whipped at his legs as he ran after Ajax, already some fifty feet ahead of him and gaining more ground with every pace. Ahead Macro could see that the end of the island was close to the western bank, no more than fifty paces of open water. Ajax entered the reeds and his boots splashed into the shallow murky water. By the time Macro reached the reeds, Ajax was already waist deep, wading out into the Nile. He glanced back and smiled as he saw the gap he had opened up between himself and Macro. Then he was clear of the reeds and leaped forward, releasing his sword. He began to strike out into the current.
Macro stopped ankle deep in the water lapping at the reeds and slipped his sword belt over his head. His fingers clawed at the fastenings of his harness. As he heaved his harness over his head and threw it aside, he heard a loud rustle in the reeds a short distance away, then a splash as a heavy body entered the water. A dark shape surged out from the reeds and made across the water at an angle towards Ajax.
At the last moment, the gladiator turned and saw the crocodile's unblinking eyes, set in its ridged tough hide. He turned and looked at Macro. 'No! NO!'
Then his head snapped forwards. His arms came up flailing, trying to beat at the monster that gripped him in its powerful jaws with sharp, tearing teeth. There was a great co
mmotion in the water as the crocodile came up and rolled over, its light-coloured belly glistening in the last light of the day. Then it was gone. The disturbed water rippled for a moment before the Nile flowed peacefully on into the gathering dusk.
Macro watched for a moment, to be sure that Ajax was gone. His body felt numb with shock at the death of his enemy. Then there was a terrible rage that welled up from the pit of his stomach, burning his heart as he gritted his teeth, mentally cursing the gods with every resource of anger at his disposal. To have pursued Ajax for so long, and so far, only for this. Macro's fists clenched tightly and he trembled.
'Fuck… Fuck!… FUCK!'
His words echoed faintly from the far bank and then there was silence. He slowly turned away from the Nile, picked up his armour and waded on to dry ground before hurrying back to the shrine to see to his friend, Cato.
EPILOGUE
Two months later Cato climbed the path up to the imperial villa perched on the cliff on the eastern end of the island of Caprae. They had taken passage on an imperial courier packet from Alexandria, and braved the rough autumn seas to cross the Mediterranean and sail up the west coast of Italy, making for the port of Ostia on the mouth of the Tiber. When they put in at the naval base of Puteoli they were told that Emperor Claudius and the imperial secretary, Narcissus, were wintering on Caprae. Accordingly, the captain of the packet reversed course and made for the small rocky island thrusting up from the sea just off the bay of Naples. Cato had left Macro in one of the inns of the small fishing village nestling beside the harbour.
As he climbed the path, passing through checkpoints manned by wary Praetorian Guards, Cato collected his thoughts so that he could deliver a clear report to the imperial secretary. The defeat of the Nubians and the death of Ajax had brought his mission in Egypt to an end. Once the Twenty-Second Legion had returned to its base in Memphis, Cato and Macro had quit the legion and returned to Alexandria. They travelled down the Nile on a barge, Cato resting under an awning as he recovered from his wound. The Jackals' surgeon had sewn the wound up and it had taken many days before the flesh had knitted together in a jagged scar stretching across his face.
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