The Gladiator (36 page)

‘There’s no way out.’ She looked up at him, lips trembling. ‘Is there?’

‘No, miss.’ Macro looked at her sadly. Julia glanced back towards the ravine, as the sounds ofthe fighting drew closer. ‘What will they do if they capture me?’ Macro knew well enough. Almost certainly there would be no mercy, and plenty of suffering before they had finished with her. ‘Best not to think about that.’ ‘What?’ She stared at him and responded plaintively:’I don’t want to die. I don’t want to suffer.’ ‘I know.’ Macro put his arm round her shoulder awkwardly.

‘This way’ He led her to the cliff and they turned to face the ravine. With a last savage clatter of blades and a final cry of pain the noise of the fighting died away. Then there was the sound of horses coming their way. Julia pressed into Macro.

‘I’m afraid. I don’t want to die.’ ‘Of course not, miss,’ Macro replied gently. ‘It’s only natural.’ ‘And you?’ Macro smiled. ‘It’s been a long time coming. I’ve grown used to the idea. I know one thing. They’re not going to forget me in a hurry.’

The first of the enemy appeared, then another, and more of them emerged from the gloom. They came on at a steady walk, weapons held ready. Some bled from wounds and all of them stared at Macro and Julia fixedly. Macro stepped in front of Julia and raised his sword.

‘Come on then, you bastards! See how a Roman dies!’

There was no response, just a deathly cold in their eyes as the horsemen clopped towards them. Julia took Macro’s elbow and he felt her tremble as she spoke.

‘Macro, don’t let them take me. Please.’ He felt an icy sense of dread clench round his heart at her words.

There was no avoiding what he must do. Macro felt sick. He swallowed back the bile and turned towards her.

‘I’m so sorry, miss.’

She glanced past him to the approaching men, then grasped his shoulders and stared into his eyes. ‘Do it quickly!’

Macro’s features twisted into an expression of agonised helplessness, then he nodded and lowered the bloodied tip of his sword to rest against her stomach,just under her rib cage. Her body was warm to the touch even though she was shivering. She clenched her eyes shut and took a last gasping breath as one of the men shouted a warning and they rushed forward.

‘The gods save you, Cato my love,’ she whispered. ‘Macro, I’m ready. Do it.’

It was taking far too long for the force to assemble, Cato fretted irritably as he made his way along the breakwater extending from the old royal quarter into the great harbour. To his left there was a mass of commercial shipping riding at anchor waiting for a berth, and beyond lay the Heptastadion – the long causeway stretching from the mainland to the island of Pharos. As he glanced at it, Cato could not help admiring the ambition of the Alexandrines once again. The city was full of wonders, as he had discovered while waiting for Petronius to assemble the reliefforce to be sent to Crete. The library had overawed him. Never before had he seen such a concentration of learning. In addition to the vast number of books on every conceivable subject, the place was filled with scholars quietly discussing shared interests, or locked in vehement dispute over some point.

He sat down on the steps of the Temple ofTimon at the end of the breakwater. From there he had a good view of the fleet assemb- ling in the royal harbour. In addition to a squadron of warships, Petronius had provided four light scouting ships ofthe same class that Cato and Macro had served aboard when they had been seconded to the fleet at Ravenna some years earlier. Besides these, there were eight large cargo ships to carry the horses and equipment allocated to the force. Counting the marine contingents aboard the warships, the legate had assigned nearly five thousand men to the force being sent to the aid of his old friend Senator Sempronius.

The decision of who to appoint as commander of the force had proved to be a delicate matter. In addition to the experienced officers commanding the legionary cohorts, as well as the auxiliary units, Petronius had a number of military tribunes on his staff who claimed the command for themselves. Cato had reminded the legate that Sempronius would be making his own decision with respect to appointing a commander of the relief force when it reached Crete. Moreover, he had asked that Cato himself be the commander of the forces while they were en route to the province. In the end Petronius had appointed the senior centurion of the Twenty-Second to the post, until they arrived at Gortyna. Decius Fulvius was a scarred, bald veteran with the build of a boxer, who could bellow like a bull. Cato was impressed by his competence and aura of authority, and accepted the legate’s decision.

Even though the commander had been appointed and the ships were ready, the auxiliary units were still on the march and would not reach the city for another day, Cato had been informed. The prefects, long used to the comfortable garrison duties of Egypt, had proved reluctant to be sent on campaign and had made every excuse to delay their departure, until the legate had threatened to replace them on his own authority and report the matter to the emperor. That had done the trick and the two cohorts had set off at once.

It had been several days since he had arrived in Alexandria, Cato reflected in a depressed mood as he found some shade on the steps of the temple and gazed out to sea. Somewhere out there lay the island of Crete, where his friends were in danger. They needed him and he was stuck here in Alexandria, dragging his heels until the relief force was ready to set sail. He thought longingly of Julia, and for a moment he closed his eyes and lifted his face to the sea breeze, letting it caress his skin as she was wont to do so lightly with her fingertips that it made his body tremble at the sensation. He could not wait to be in her arms again, to hold her body against his and kiss her.

Abruptly he stopped himself pursuing that line of thought. The consequences would be embarrassing in such a public space, and the agony of her absence would only depress him further and make him more anxious over having to wait for the fleet to set sail from Alexandria. As he opened his eyes, he felt the wind strengthen, and the awning over a nearby fish stall billowed up and snapped taut.The stallkeeper was already looking anxiously to the west as he began to pack his goods away into baskets to carry back down the breakwater into the city. Cato rose from the steps and walked round to the far side of the temple. The sky beyond the Heptastadion was dark and cloudy and the swell in the harbour was more noticeable. A storm was coming, blowing in from the west.

For a moment Cato watched the horizon, wondering if he should return to the quarters the legate had provided for him in the palace that had once been the home of the Ptolemaic pharaohs. There he would be forced to endure the empty conversation and mindless entertainments of Petronius’s bored staff officers as the storm broke outside. The thought soured him, and he resolved to stay and watch. A fresh blast of wind buffeted him and he turned to see that the storm was almost upon him. Great waves were crashing against the foot of the lighthouse across the bay and bursting in massive clouds of spray swept on by the rising wind. Out to sea, a grey curtain of rain was sweeping towards the coast beneath dark clouds that smeared the sky along the horizon.

The rain began in earnest, stinging his face, and Cato could not help shivering slightly in the cold wind moaning around the temple. All at once there was a dazzling flash oflight and a moment later the muffled metallic crash of thunder, as the storm struck the port. A cargo ship, a mile out, was battling to reach the harbour, almost all the sail reefed in as her bows burst through one wave after another. Suddenly the distant sail collapsed; Cato saw that the mast had snapped, and sail, spar, and rigging tumbled over the side. As the tangled wreckage hit the water, it acted as a brake, savagely dragging the ship over to one side as it turned its beam towards the great waves rolling in from the heart of the sea. For an instant Cato could make out the men crouching on the deck. Then a huge grey wall crashed over the ship, engulfing it. T h e keel broke the surface, like the spine of a whale, and settled in the water; then the next wave washed over it and the ship was gone. Cato stared at the spot, willing there to be some sign of survivors, but there was nothing, and the curiosity of before turned to horror at the sudden extinction of the ship and its entire crew.

‘Poor bastards,’ he muttered, then turned away and walked slowly towards the shelter of the temple, as the wind-fanned flames in the cupola at the top of the lighthouse flared brilliantly against the dark storm clouds scudding overhead. Once he was in the shelter of the tower, Cato took a last look towards the sea, his heart filled with pity for any ships out there in such a tempest.

Two days later, early in the morning, the fleet was ready to sail. Petronius came down to the dock in the royal harbour to bid farewell to Cato and First Spear Centurion Decius Fulvius. The storm had passed the day after it had struck and several ships had foundered in the commercial harbour. Fortunately the fleet had lost only one trireme, which had dragged its anchors and been holed when it struck the breakwater.

‘Take good care of my men.’ Petronius smiled faintly at Cato. ‘I want ‘em back in good condition once you have put down the slave rebellion.The gods know I’m taking a big risk in stripping so many men from the garrison of Egypt to help Sempronius out. Make sure he understands that.’

‘I will be sure to pass the message on to the senator, sir.’

‘Good, and tell my old friend that ifhe should ever need my help again in the future, then please hesitate to call on me.’

Cato smiled at the quip, but Fulvius just frowned for a moment and then shrugged before he saluted his commander. ‘I’ll look after the lads, sir. Shouldn’t think a mob of renegade slaves will give me much trouble. Even so, I’ll not take any unnecessary risks.’

‘Good.’

Cato followed Fulvius across the gangway and on to the deck of the flagship, an ageing quadreme named the
Triton.
As soon as they were aboard, the marines hauled the gangway in and the men at the oars fended the vessel away from the dock.As soon as a sufficient gap had opened up, the navarch commanding the fleet gave the order for the ship to get under way, and the oars were unshipped and the blades lowered into the sea. T h e officer in charge of the rowers set an easy pace and the
Triton
glided across the still waters of the royal harbour and headed out to sea. The rest of the squadron took up station astern, as the troopships set sail and followed behind the warships. It was a fine spectacle, Cato reflected as he saw that hundreds of the local people had come out on to the Heptastadion to watch the fleet depart. The formation headed out past the lighthouse, and the Tritons bows lifted as they emerged into the swell of the open sea. The sudden motion caused Cato to grasp the side rail, and the image of the stricken ship he had seen during the storm jumped unbidden into his mind. The navarch chuckled as he glanced at him. ‘Not much of a sailor, then?’ ‘Not much,’ Cato admitted. ‘I’ve had more than my share of sea travel recently’ ‘Well, not to worry. The storm has blown itself out nicely’ The navarch scanned the horizon and sniffed the air. ‘We’re in for a fine spell, and will make Crete within three days at the most.’

‘You can smell the weather to come?’ Cato asked in surprise.

‘No. But it helps calm my passengers if they think I can.’ The navarch winked.

Cato made his way to the stern and stared back at Alexandria. By noon the city and the coastline had disappeared over the horizon, but the lighthouse was still clearly visible, and in the gentle breeze the smoke from its signal fire rose at an angle into the heavens.

In the fine weather the fleet made steady progress across the sea and sighted the coast of Crete on the evening of the third day. After carefully examining the coastline, the navarch was content that he knew where they had made landfall and gave the order to turn to the west and follow the coast towards Matala.

‘We should reach the port tomorrow,’ he announced to Cato and Fulvius as they shared a meal in his tiny cabin that night. He nodded at Cato. ‘You say the port was hit hard by that wave. How bad was the damage, exactly?’

Cato finished chewing a hunk of bread and swallowed. ‘There’s not much still standing,’ he recalled. ‘The warehouses were flattened and much of the quayside was swept away. There’s plenty of wrecked shipping along the shore and in the bay, but the beaches a little further out are clear enough.We could land our forces there.’

‘Very well,’ Fulvius agreed. ‘As far as you’re aware, we shouldn’t be facing any opposition when we land.’

‘No. Not unless something’s happened to Matala.’ ‘Is that likely?’ Cato shook his head. ‘I doubt it. If the rebels have paid a visit, the garrison had orders to take the people up into the acropolis. It’s a fine defensive position.Without siege weapons the rebels would have had little chance of taking the place. N o , we shouldn’t have any problems putting ashore at Matala.’

‘Glad to hear it,’ said Fulvius. ‘And once the column’s ashore, we’ll put paid to this gladiator ofyours in double-quick time. You see ifwe don’t!’

The sun was high in the sky as the
Triton
led the fleet into the bay. The navarch was taking no risks and had two men in the bows watching the water ahead of the warship for any obstacles caused by the wave or the earthquake. The marines and the additional legionaries from the Twenty-Second packed the sides of the ship and stared in curiosity and shock at the ruined port. For the first time since they had set off from Alexandria, Cato noticed that Fulvius looked a little shaken.

‘Never seen anything like it,’ the veteran muttered. ‘It’s like the port has been pulverised.’ He turned to Cato. ‘Seems you weren’t exaggerating what you said about that wave.’

‘No. And that’s only the beginning.’ Cato pointed inland. ‘What’s left of the city is up there, and once you see that, you’ll have some idea ofwhat’s happened to the whole island.’

Fulvius shook his head slowly as he continued to survey the devastation.