The Gladiator (47 page)

‘Yes, General!’ Kharim edged his mount through the others. He was naked save for a loincloth and his sword belt.

‘Stay here. Get these men formed. You are to hold this part ofthe camp. If I send for you, come at once, you hear?’

Kharim bowed his head. ‘Yes, General.’

Ajax rode on, through the gates at the end of the palisade. They were inside the perimeter ofthe main camp and had been left open. Ahead of him there was utter confusion. Only one ship along the beach had been fired and it was now well ablaze, filling the air with the roar of its flames and the crackle of bursting timber as sparks swirled into the heavens. The intensity of the glare lit up the surrounding sand and water for some distance. The din of battle came from the far end of the beach, and yet all along its length -his men were visible clustered about the bows of the beached ships, trying to clamber aboard and get at the Romans, who were stripped to the waist and desperately holding them off with swords, spears and even oars.

The enemy on the ships were not the real danger,Ajax realised. It was the force rolling up his flank. If they could be thrown back, then the ships could be retaken later. He drew his sword and rode on, bellowing to the rebels along the beach,’Follow me! Follow me!’

He gathered more and more men as he hurriedly made his way towards the battle raging at the far end. The fight was not going well. The Romans had already overrun the redoubt and were surging forward over the sand, oblong shields smashing down their more lightly armed opponents, and then the legionaries finished off the rebels with thrusts from their short swords. Ajax knew that the vast majority of his men were no match for legionaries, but if they could amass a sufficient force to stall the attack, there was a chance the weight of numbers might yet force them back over the palisade. But first they had to be rallied.

‘Bodyguard! To me!’ Ajax bellowed above the clash of weapons, the thud of blows on shields and the cries of the wounded. Those horsemen who had followed him from the other side of the bay steadied their snorting mounts and held their weapons ready. Ajax saw that he had thirty or forty of them with him now. Enough to make a difference. He turned back towards the enemy, fifty paces along the beach, cutting their way through the dissolving ranks of the rebels as they began to fall back.

‘Charge!’ Ajax stabbed his sword out and dug his heels in. The horse whinnied, reared up for a moment and then plunged forward, head down and hooves thudding into the coarse sand as it galloped madly towards the enemy.

The rebels ahead ofhim heard the approaching horsemen and did their best to escape from their path, but several were mown down and trampled underfoot. Ahead of him, Ajax could see that the Romans were not in formation, but had scattered as they began their pursuit. At the head of his band of bodyguards, he crashed in amongst them. The legionaries were as well armoured as any man he had faced in the arena, and Ajax held his sword poised to strike at any unprotected arms, faces and throats. Two Romans stood ahead of him and were knocked aside as his mount slammed into their shields. Leaning to his right, the gladiator thrust down into the neck exposed as a legionary stumbled. It was a shallow thrust, no more than a few inches, but it would mortally wound his enemy, and Ajax rode on, keeping his head low. He saw a crested helmet to one side, and steered towards the centurion attempting to rally his unit.At the last moment the man turned, and in the glow ofthe ship blazing behind the gladiator his eyes widened. He was too late to react, and the tip of Ajax’s blade smashed through his eye, shattering his skull as it plunged on into his brain. Ripping the blade free, Ajax turned his horse again.

Glancing round, Ajax saw that his charge had broken the Roman attack. Several legionaries were down, some had grouped back to back in small clusters, while others were retreating along the beach. He had bought his men only a brief respite. Less than a hundred paces away, the second Roman formation was advancing towards the rebels, a solid wall of shields with standards raised behind the leading ranks. An order was barked and the legionaries clattered their swords against the sides of their shields, producing a deafening metallic din that unnerved Ajax’s horse.

‘Easy, easy there.’ He patted its flank and realised that his bodyguard was the only rebel group standing firm on the beach.The rest were falling back. With a hiss of frustration, Ajax knew that the fight on the beach was lost. It might still be possible to deploy Kharim’s men, many ofwhom had weapons and armour looted from the Roman soldiers they had killed. They might hold the legionaries back long enough for the rest of the army to be rallied, ready to hurl themselves on the hated Romans.

‘Fall back!’ Ajax ordered. ‘To the camp!’

The horsemen turned and rode back along the beach, covering the retreat of those on foot retreating before them. As they passed the ships, the Romans on board watched them silently, too exhausted to cheer as their enemy gave ground. But once they caught sight of their comrades advancing along the beach, below their standards, a cheer rose up, passed on from ship to ship, and as he heard it, Ajax’s lips twisted into a bitter snarl of frustration.

When he returned through the gateway of the palisade, he saw Kharim on his horse, watching intently. Catching sight of him, Kharim waved an arm and spurred his horse forward.

‘General! The sentries report another Roman force moving down from their camp.’ He thrust his arm up towards the slope. ‘Over a thousand of them, with cavalry on the wings.’

Ajax stared at him, then looked back at the enemy marching along the beach. Around him the rebels were milling about, directionless and afraid. He took a deep breath and roared,’Form ranks! Form up and hold your ground! We can win this! We can beat them! We’ve done it before and we can do it again! Stand firm!’

His shouts were interrupted by fresh notes from the Roman horns along the beach, answered by more blasts from the direction of the hills, and the clatter of swords on shields began again, rising to deafening intensity. T h e rebels began to shuffle back, and those on the fringes of the crowd beyond the gate began to disperse, hurrying away from the converging Roman forces.

‘Stand your ground!’ Ajax yelled again, but it was too late. Fear passed through the rebels like a wind, and a tide of men flowed into the night, back through the camp, as they ran to save their lives. Ajax watched them go, and his heart set like lead in his breast. He suddenly felt a terrible burden of weariness settle on his shoulders and he turned to face the oncoming Romans.

‘General!’ Kharim shouted. ‘What shall we do?’

‘Do?’ Ajax shook his head. ‘All is lost. There is nothing we can do but die with a sword in our hands.’

‘No!’ Kharim edged his horse alongside Ajax and grabbed his arm. ‘General, you still live, and while you live you can keep the fight against Romealive. If you die now, then it has been for nothing. While you live, the rebellion is not finished.’

Ajax turned and looked at him with a bleak expression. ‘What can I hope to achieve now, my friend?’

Kharim thought quickly. ‘We have hostages. We can still make a deal ifwe escape with them.There are some fishing boats in a small cove not far from your tent.’

For a moment Ajax wanted nothing more than a quick death. But then the sense of Kharim’s words penetrated his mind. The Parthian was right: the rebellion would never be over while some men kept the spirit of it alive in the hearts of the empire’s slaves. He must escape, and take the hostages with him.

‘Very well.’ He nodded to his comrade. ‘We will go. Come!’

He turned his horse and beckoned to his bodyguards, and then began to ride back through the camp around the end of the bay towards his tents on the peninsula beyond. On all sides the rebels gathered up their families and loot and fled from the approaching Romans. Ajax spared them a moment’s pity. The trap was closed. There would be no escape for them, only death or a return to slavery.

Three of the ships were on fire by the time Cato and his men had cleared the decks of the anchored vessels. Only two of the rebel fire parties had managed to set their ships ablaze before taking to their tenders and escaping towards the shore. The fire had spread to the third ship and all three now threatened the rest of the vessels anchored in the bay.

‘Atticus!’ Cato called the optio over. ‘Gather up twenty men. We have to cut those ships out before the fire spreads any further.’

Cato turned and, with Vulso and Musa, made his way across the intervening vessels to the one next to the nearest burning ship.The heat from the flames roaring up from the vessel’s hold struck him a stinging blow, and he raised an arm to protect his face as he looked around. Two lines joined this ship to the one ablaze.

Cato crouched down in the shelter of the ship’s side to give his orders. ‘You two take the aft line. I’ll go forward.’

Crouching low, he scrambled to the hawse hole near the bows and drew his dagger.The cable was made from coarse hemp and was thick as a man’s wrist. He began to saw at it furiously.The deck around him was brightly lit by the burning ships and the hot air was filled with the roar of flames and the crack of timber bursting from the intense temperature generated by the blaze. Sparks and glowing shreds of sails swirled through the air, and Cato winced as one landed on his back. He shook it off and continued cutting at the rope, hoping that they could complete the job before the fire spread to any more ofthe grain ships. O n e of the strands of the cable parted and the tension instantly increased on the remaining strands, making them easier .to cut. Gritting his teeth, Cato worked at them with every ounce of his strength, the edge of the dagger biting through the dense material. Another strand parted and one remained, thin and hard as bone.

‘Come on, you bastard,’ Cato muttered. ‘Break.’

With a dull crack the dagger severed the last strand and the end of the cable vanished through the hole. Cato rose up and squinted into the heated air as he waited for the burning ship to drift away. Glancing aft, he saw Vulso and Musa running towards him.

‘Cable’s cut, sir,’ Vulso called out. ‘But she’s not moving off.’

Cato nodded. ‘I saw. We’ll have to fend her away’ He pointed to one of the sweeps lashed to the ship’s side. ‘We can use that. Come on!’

They hurriedly untied the simple fastenings holding the long oar in place and then manhandled the broad-bladed end over the rail, against the side of the other vessel.

Cato took a firm grip on the shaft and braced his feet. ‘All right then, heave!’

The three of them leaned into the long oar with all their might. Slowly, slowly, Cato sensed the other ship begin to give, and he shuffled forward a pace and called out,’She’s moving! Keep at it!’

Burning debris was falling across the bows of the deck around them, but they could do nothing until the blazing wreck of the other ship was pushed to a safe distance. They continued to thrust the sweep against its side, chests heaving as their muscles strained, stiff and glistening from their efforts. Cato glanced up and saw that the gap between the ships had widened to ten feet.All the time the resistance decreased as he and the others steadily approached the side rail.There they fed the shaft along and continued until the other ship eased away from the oar blade. They hauled the sweep back and dropped it on the deck.The current had begun to draw the ship away from the rest of the anchored vessels and it drifted slowly towards the shore. Cato nodded with satisfaction before turning to inspect the deck. Burning debris lay scattered about the foredeck, but mercifully there was none around the hold, where the rebels had prepared their combustible materials, ready to set fire to the ship.

‘Get these fires out!’ Cato ordered, grabbing a length of sacking from a locker in front of the main mast. There was a water bucket there for the crew, and he hurriedly doused the sacking before running to a blackened length of rope, still alight in places. He beat out the flames and moved on, as the others followed suit. Soon the last of the small fires was out and they stood gasping as they watched the burning wreck drift away. Cato grabbed a shroud and climbed up on to the side rail. From his vantage point he could see that Atticus and the others had succeeded in cutting the other two ships free and were also fending them off. He could still feel the stinging heat even where he stood, and he briefly stared at the spectacle in awe as the brilliant flames transformed the surrounding sea into a glittering chaos of fiery reflections.

Glancing back towards the beach, Cato could make out the details of the legionaries as they advanced past the ship that burned there. He was relieved to see that they had already taken the whole of the area enclosed by the palisade. Beyond that he could see thousands of figures running in every direction in the glow of the rebels’ camp fires. It seemed that the attack had succeeded as he had hoped.Taken by surprise, the rebels had broken and were fleeing for their lives. It was true that four of the grain ships had been lost, but that was acceptable given that the whole fleet had been at risk.

‘Sir!’ Vulso called to him, pointing back towards the mouth of the bay. Cato turned and his gaze followed the direction Vulso was indicating. Back through the rigging of the grain ships he could see the dark forms of other vessels approaching, and the faint sheen of a rhythmic disturbance on the sides of each, which he realised must be the banks of oars. He felt a release of tension in his body at the sight of the Roman warships and called back to Vulso.

‘They’re ours! It’s Navarch Balbus and his squadron.’

Vulso let out a cheer, then passed on word of the navy’s arrival. More men joined in the cheering as Cato gathered Atticus,Vulso and Musa and hurried back across the decks of the grain ships to meet the first, and largest, of the warships to reach them. A bronze-capped ram protruding from the bows was aimed straight at the side of the ship that Cato stood on, and for a moment he feared that the warship might crash into the hull. Then he heard a shouted order, and the oars on the port side dropped down into the water and stayed there while the starboard oars continued rowing and the warship began to swing round, beam on to the grain ship.