She shook her head. ‘You do not know me very well, Valerius. I will stay with you, and if necessary I will fight and die alongside you.’
The decision to flee into the swamp didn’t meet with universal approval. Most of the Emesan archers would have preferred to fight on dry land. But they were soldiers and soldiers obey orders. The cavalrymen urged their horses down the bank of the causeway and pushed their way into the reeds in twos, churning the water a muddy brown. Valerius rode at the front of the vanguard, his sword blade only a flick of the wrist from the hunter’s throat. The man sat rigid in the unfamiliar saddle of a horse led by a Chalcidean trooper, his hands hooked like claws on the leather pommel. Tabitha took her position just behind Valerius, beside Serpentius and ahead of Paternus and his servant. It clearly irritated the tribune that he hadn’t been consulted before the decision, but this was no time for argument. The first hundred Emesans rode with their bows strung and at the ready, but in the ranks behind each horse bore a camel driver as well as its rider. The drivers sat facing their charges and linked to them by a length of rope. It was an uncomfortable position, but better than wading through water of uncertain depth, and preferable by far to being left to the tender mercies of the Judaean rebels.
The horses whinnied and skittered nervously as they entered the water and their hooves fought for purchase in the clinging mud. A few of the more highly strung bucked and danced, threatening to spook their neighbours, until their riders managed to get them under control. Valerius would have said this patch of reeds and bulrushes was like any other, but gradually his eyes discerned a faint path through the shimmering green barrier. Even so, the bottom was uneven and more than once his heart leapt into his mouth at a sudden feeling of weightlessness as Lunaris stepped out of his depth. It was clammy and airless among the thick stems and the reeds restricted visibility to a few yards. Swarms of black flies plagued horse and rider alike and the monotonous buzz of insects filled the air. The men rode in silence, but there was no quieting the coughs and snickers of the horses or the braying of the camels. Valerius knew that for all their precautions their progress would be easily monitored by anyone within a hundred paces.
In the sullen depths of the dense stands of bulrushes it was easy to lose all sense of time and distance. It came as a surprise when they broke through to an expanse of clear water that twinkled into the distance where rafts of ducks and geese, patches of yellow water lilies or low, reed-fringed islands broke the shining mirror of the lake surface.
Valerius wondered how any man could tell the difference between the shallows and the hidden depths. But the hunter had spent more than half his life poling his skiff across these waters and with every push the pole touched bottom. The Judaean indicated a course running parallel to the reed bank and pair by pair the Emesan archers emerged into the sunshine. At regular intervals the guide would indicate a change of course to avoid an underwater obstacle or hidden pit. He seemed resigned to his fate now, and Valerius allowed himself to relax and sheathed his sword. Another mile, or perhaps a little more just to be safe, and they could begin to work their way back towards the causeway.
Serpentius called out a warning and Valerius followed his pointing finger. About two hundred paces back he saw a shimmer run through the reeds. The men closest to the phenomenon didn’t appear to notice what was happening, or perhaps they thought it was caused by a gust of wind. They were wrong and it might have killed them. The reeds parted and a shower of spears arced out to slice into the flanks of the nearest horses, creating a screaming chaos of panicking men and injured animals. As quickly as it opened the gap in the reeds vanished. Valerius witnessed the same shimmer in reverse as the attackers retreated. Men floundered in the water as others came to their aid and two of the horses were down, their legs thrashing as the water turned red around them.
A hundred paces further down the column cries of consternation rang out as a second ambush caused more casualties. Valerius grabbed the guide’s reins and dragged the horse with him as he doubled back down the line of men, sending spray flying. As he rode, he ordered the bowmen they passed to stay alert and watch the reeds.
The quick-witted decurio closest to the point of the second attack led a ten-man section of archers into the bulrushes in pursuit of the attackers. Within moments a violent flurry of activity among the reeds ended with shouts of fear and cries of agony. When Valerius arrived a camel stood with its head down and a spear hanging from its belly. Nearby, a cavalryman was up to his waist in a cloud of red, cutting the throat of a dying horse. Valerius spun as the reeds parted behind him, but it was only the officer returning. One of his archers hauled a flat-bottomed skiff with four bearded men lying in the bottom riddled with arrows, their blood staining the wood crimson.
‘Judaean rebels,’ he announced unnecessarily.
The sound of churning water heralded the return of Gaulan and his rearguard, galloping up the side of the column in a flurry of spray. ‘You too?’ The Chalcidean shook his head. ‘They’ve hit the rear five or six times. No casualties among the men, only horses and camels.’
‘They only need to kill the horses.’ Valerius’s heart sank as he worked out the implications of what had just happened. ‘A horse is an easy target and every man on foot in this swamp slows us down to a crawl. They know exactly where we are and all they have to do is shadow us, picking off a few horses at a time. We can’t afford to keep taking losses, so we’ll eventually be forced to return to the causeway.’
‘Where they’ll be waiting for us.’
Valerius knew what the cavalryman was thinking. It would have been better to risk charging the barricade and accepting the casualties needed to make a breakthrough. At least some of them would have survived. Maybe he was right, but they couldn’t turn back time. ‘Form the men into half-squadrons in tight formation. Those leading the camels will need to be on the outer flank away from the reeds. Ten paces between each squadron.’
Gaulan nodded approvingly. ‘So each half-squadron is close enough to support the next. If one is attacked the units to the front and the rear hook round to snap up the attackers.’
‘They can’t have that many boats. Every one we capture weakens them.’
‘We should kill him.’ Gaulan glared at the hunter. ‘He must have known they were collecting skiffs.’
‘Not yet,’ Valerius said. ‘I may have a use for him.’
He returned to the front of the column with the guide. The attacks became less effective against the new formation, but they continued, with a steady loss of horses that he knew couldn’t be sustained for much longer.
‘Couldn’t we fire the reeds and burn them out?’ Tabitha suggested. It would have been a good idea at the height of summer and with the wind in the right direction. But this was spring and the reed beds glowed with the emerald shoots of moist new growth. There had to be another way.
But there was no other way. The only option was to continue plodding southwards with every step through the glutinous sucking mud and belly-deep water taking its toll on their mounts. An hour later even Valerius was beginning to despair. Gaulan reported that men and horses were close to exhaustion and called a halt to allow them to rest. The animals stood with their heads down to the water, flanks sweat-slick and breath coming in sharp snorts; even the camels, hardiest of beasts, appeared diminished by their ordeal.
‘We must either find somewhere dry to rest and feed the horses or we have to fight,’ the Chalcidean insisted. ‘But the decision has to be made soon or the horses won’t be fit to fight at all.’
Valerius nodded, hopelessly searching the watery landscape for somewhere that would provide sanctuary. He pointed to the guide. ‘Tell him we have to find a way back to the causeway road. If possible we need somewhere we can form up to sweep aside any rebels who oppose us there.’
The guide looked aghast. ‘He says there is no such place,’ Gaulan translated. ‘All he knows is paths where two men might ride side by side. It would be suicide. I believe he fo
resees his own fate if he is captured and known to have helped us.’
‘Suicide or not, we don’t have any choice.’
‘We could form up into smaller groups and scatter,’ Gaulan suggested gloomily. ‘Some might get through.’
‘But we would have failed Titus,’ Valerius said. ‘And I will not fail him.’
Suddenly the guide burst into animated voice. The Chalcidean commander ordered him to slow down, then turned to Valerius. ‘Finally, he understands the true gravity of our situation. It appears there is an island large enough to accommodate us. It is the most distant of that group there.’ He pointed to a barely visible clump of brush on the horizon. ‘Reaching it will be difficult and dangerous. He says there are sinkholes and quicksand, and he’s not completely certain of the shallows. Ordinarily he would not have suggested it because of the perils it involves, but in the circumstances it may offer us sanctuary, if not salvation.’
Tabitha came to Valerius’s side and laid a hand on his arm, ignoring the looks of surprise on the faces of the men around her. ‘If we take the path to the causeway you think we will all die?’
‘Most, if not all.’
She looked across the wide expanse of water separating them from the islands and shivered. ‘But if we survive the night we will give the gods another chance to look kindly upon us.’
‘The horses are almost done,’ Gaulan counselled. ‘If he’s wrong and we can’t reach the island, we may never make it back.’
Valerius met Tabitha’s eyes. ‘We go,’ he said loudly enough for the men around him to hear, and immediately shouted commands echoed down the line of cavalrymen, horses and camels. He lowered his voice. ‘But no arguments this time. You stay close to Serpentius in the centre of the column.’ The order clearly annoyed her, but she bit her lip and allowed the Spaniard to lead her away.
Despite the attacks, the beds of reeds and bulrushes had offered an illusion of safety. Out in the open water at the head of the long column of twos Valerius felt terribly exposed and even the most experienced cavalrymen looked nervously around them. With reason. Beyond the far end of the column a flat-bottomed skiff emerged from the reeds and floated just out of bow range. Valerius had a sense of the two occupants shouting to someone in the reeds. He had no doubt that in moments another skiff would be speeding back to the causeway to inform the leader of the Judaean rebels of their change of course.
The water grew appreciably deeper as they moved towards the centre of the lake and Valerius was relieved when it settled at chest height on his horse. It appeared obvious their guide was less sanguine about their prospects. The hunter stared at the water in front of him with an intensity that should have parted it, all the time muttering to himself and emitting occasional squeaks of alarm. Fortunately, he retained enough nerve to direct a string of panicked instructions at Gaulan and as a result the column snaked across the lake like a giant python. Whether by Fortuna’s favour or good judgement they’d managed this far unscathed, but Valerius knew it couldn’t last. Inevitably a rider would react too late and the turn would be a little further ahead than the original order. If he’d had spears he would have marked the turns with their shafts. Without any points of reference he feared any error would be multiplied across a thousand animals and the deviation might be as much as fifty or sixty feet.
A loud bray of alarm alerted him. When he looked over his shoulder a camel near the rear had floundered out of its depth, weighed down by sacks of fodder. Two riders went to try to drag it back, but soon their horses were swimming and it was clear the beast was doomed. The handler had thrown himself from the lead horse to rescue his animal, but all he could do was cling to the mane of one of the rescuers. Meanwhile, the animal bellowed plaintively and struggled to keep its head above water, until, inevitably, it disappeared altogether.
‘No!’
The shrill cry came from Tabitha a hundred paces away and at first Valerius was surprised that she should be so concerned about the loss of a single camel. It was only then he noticed the original craft monitoring their progress had been joined by six or seven more. While the rearguard stared at the drowning camel, two of the skiffs darted in and launched spears that brought down more precious horses. The first fled out of range before the Emesan archers could reply, but the man poling the second panicked and lost control. Valerius saw him pirouette like a dancer and plunge over the edge of the skiff. It wasn’t difficult to imagine what was happening when the Emesans surrounded the vessel, their swords flailing at the unfortunate occupants.
‘Let’s hope they’ve learned their lesson.’ Valerius couldn’t hide his irritation. ‘We can’t afford to lose any more horses.’
But the fate of the horses lay with the gods and sometimes the gods do not appreciate being lectured. The moment Gaulan urged the guide’s mount into motion it reared up as if it had seen a snake, almost pitching the duck hunter from the saddle. One of the animal’s rear hooves had become entangled by a root or trapped between boulders and it gave a panicked scream. With a convulsive heave the horse broke free before anyone could react and bolted in a shower of spray. It had barely gone a dozen strides before it found deeper water and stopped as if it had run into a wall. This time the guide pitched over its shoulder and disappeared instantly beneath the surface. An expectant hush followed as the men at the head of the column waited for him to reappear.
Like everyone else, Valerius expected the guide to rise spluttering from the water, but nothing happened and he kicked Lunaris into motion as the full implications of losing the man hit him. They couldn’t go forward and if they were forced back the horses would be on their knees long before they reached the causeway – if they got that far. Lunaris surged through the chest-deep water to the point where the guide had disappeared. The horse struggled to stay afloat, but Valerius’s hopes rose as he saw a pale, terrified face staring up from just beneath the surface. Pale fingers scrabbled towards him and he reached down with his left hand to snatch a handful of cloth and haul the drowning man to the surface.
His success brought a cheer from the watching men, but even as he turned the horse towards the main column disaster struck. If the hunter had stayed calm it would have been the work of seconds to pull him clear. Instead, in his terror he clawed at Valerius’s cloak and tried to drag himself on to Lunaris’s back. Valerius was already off balance and as the hunter dragged himself to safety he hauled the Roman out of the saddle. Before Valerius had a chance to cry out the cold water closed over him and he felt the weight of his armour pulling him into the depths. He clawed at the straps, but with only the fingers of one hand it was impossible. With a thrill of fear he realized he was drowning.
Lunaris’s legs kicked through the water above him and he reached out, but it was too far and what would he have done in any case? He tried desperately not to breathe, but he knew it was only a matter of time. The armour seemed to close in around his chest and he groaned with the pressure of it. Water forced its way up his nose giving him an irrational urge to sneeze. He fought panic and prayed that someone would come to his rescue, his only consolation being that saving the guide might yet save the column. And Tabitha. Maybe it would be better just to open his mouth and let the water pour in. Just as he made his decision a massive disturbance churned the water around him and his vision dimmed.
‘Valerius.’ The voice was soft, but urgent.
He managed to open one eye. The sun’s rays framed Tabitha’s concerned face and he wondered if he’d been transported to some kind of alternative Elysium. She dabbed his skull, quickly dispelling the illusion as a dart of pain made him wince. It felt as if his head had been used as a battering ram. Something moved beneath him and he realized he was lying over the backs of two horses, one of them Lunaris. Beyond Tabitha a ring of other faces stared down at him, among them Gaulan and Serpentius, but one was missing.
‘The hunter …?’
‘They’re pumping him out,’ Gaulan assured him. ‘He’ll live, but we thought we’d lost you.�
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‘What happened? How …?’
‘Tribune Paternus’s servant came to your rescue,’ Tabitha explained. ‘He forced his way to where you disappeared and dived in after you. We thought it was in vain, but when Serpentius joined him they were able to get you out.’
‘Thank you.’ Valerius turned to Paternus. ‘And please pass on my thanks to your man. What happened to my head?’
‘We think one of the horses must have kicked you.’ Willing hands helped pull Valerius up and with difficulty he straightened in the saddle. By now the sun hung low in the western sky with the island still at least an hour away. ‘Can you ride?’
‘I’ll be all right,’ Valerius said, and immediately vomited into the disturbed water.
Darkness was falling as they urged their horses on to the low bank of earth and scrub. Not much of an island, but enough to accommodate the horses and camels and dry land, any land, was better than being in the water. They fed the animals and Gaulan set guards around the island in case the Judaeans used their skiffs to try the kind of murder raid in which the rebels specialized. Valerius sought out Paternus’s servant and thanked the man, promising a more tangible reward when they reached Titus, but Gavvo only grunted and studied him with eyes as dead as one of the hunter’s ducks. Valerius shook his head at the needless discourtesy and strode to where Serpentius had spread his blanket in a clump of bushes. After the Roman had changed into dry clothes a meal of stale Syrian flatbread and a handful of olives washed down by rough red wine helped revive him. When they finished he was surprised to see the Spaniard pick up his own bedding roll. Serpentius saw his look.
‘I won’t be far away. Shout if you need me.’
‘I didn’t get the chance to thank you for today.’
Serpentius shrugged. ‘It was nothing. I’d probably never have got to you in time if Paternus’s man hadn’t reached you first. All I did was get wet and help drag you clear.’
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