The Legion (16 page)

Rufus nodded, then suggested, ‘I could try to cut round the village and take them in the flank and rear while you distracted them here, sir.’

Cato thought a moment and then nodded. ‘That’s all we can do. The trouble is that Ajax is sure to be expecting us.’

‘Only if he stays where he is, sir. In his place, I’d beat a retreat. He’s won as much advantage as he can from the ambush. He knows we’ll be forced to try a more indirect approach. Why sit there and wait? The sensible thing to do would be to leave a small rearguard to fool us into thinking he is still there, and then continue to make good his escape, steal as much of a march on us as possible before dawn comes. With good fortune, he might get far enough ahead for us to lose the scent when we continue the pursuit at dawn.’

‘You’re right,’ said Cato. They could not allow Ajax the chance to slip away now that they were closer to him than they had been at any time since he had escaped from Crete. He nodded at Rufus. ‘There’s too much thick scrub and undergrowth to the right – they’d hear you coming. Take half the men and work round the left of the village through the grass. I saw a dyke on the side of the village before we entered, perhaps a hundred paces from the buildings, so you won’t be able to swing out too far that side. Best wait until the flames have died down a bit before the attack, so you aren’t spotted.’

‘Yes, sir. What will you do when the time comes?’

‘Try another charge up the street.’ Cato smiled wearily. ‘What I lack in imagination I’ll make up for in making as much of a racket as possible. Right, then, pass the word on to the men. And let them know they can drink their fill. We’ll refill the canteens from the village’s water supply when it’s all over.’

‘
H
ow many men did we lose?’ Ajax asked as he stared at the distant Roman figures at the far end of the village.

Karim, his closest follower, looked up from the wound he was dressing on Hepithus’s arm. ‘Two dead. One as good as and four wounded. Though all of the wounded can still fight.’

Ajax considered the outcome of the ambush. He had lost two men and had killed or wounded as many as ten of the Romans. A profitable exchange then, though he had hoped to annihilate them completely, or at least scatter them so that they could not continue the pursuit. Some of his men had been in a bad way when they reached the village late in the afternoon. It had taken all his personal authority to get some of them to prepare the ambush. The rest, his fellow gladiators, had been content to make a stand against their pursuers rather than continue to struggle on through the mangrove. The small victory had gone some way towards restoring their belief in him. As he knew it would.

Ajax had a clear understanding of the mentality of the gladiators who followed him, thanks to the years he had lived, and fought, in their ranks. They lived to fight. Having once been forced to risk their lives at the behest of their masters, they knew the value of freedom and would endure any hardship and any danger rather than submit to being slaves again, or facing execution. It was as well that gladiators respected a hierarchy based on proficiency, Ajax mused, otherwise his leadership would surely have been challenged at some stage since their flight from Crete. But as long as he was unquestionably the best fighter amongst them, they would continue to respect and follow him, and obey his orders. Despite his lapse in judgement. Once again Ajax cursed himself for his complacency. The supply base had been a most useful lair from which to continue their harassment of the Romans. For nearly two months they had eaten well and rested, all the time knowing that they would have to abandon the bay at some point.

They should have quit the place long ago, Ajax realised bitterly. They had made themselves too comfortable. They had done what only the greenest of gladiators ever did – they had lowered their guard. The lookouts had failed to do their duty. He felt a moment’s rage course through his veins. The fools had cost their comrades dearly. In the months that the renegades had been at the supply base he had been able to swell their ranks from amongst the slaves on the ships they had preyed on. At the time of the Roman raid, Ajax’s original company of thirty of his closest lieutenants and the survivors of his bodyguard had swelled to over three hundred men, enough to crew both ships in the bay, and even the damaged Roman warship that had unwittingly fallen into his hands shortly before the raid.

Ajax frowned as he reproached himself again. It was inevitable that the warship would be missed, but not nearly so swiftly. As soon as he became aware that the Romans had found his hideout, Ajax marvelled at the speed with which his enemy had guessed the fate of the warship and moved to attack him. The base, all of his ships and all but fifty of his men had been lost in the attack.

Clearly the Romans were being led by an outstanding officer. Now he knew. Ajax had recognised the voice challenging him from the street. The prefect, Cato, who had brought his rebellion on Crete crashing to defeat at the point where Ajax had been certain that he held every advantage. That rebellion had failed. But there would be another, Ajax had resolved. One day, he and his men would be the cadre around which another army of slaves would rise up to challenge their Roman masters. The Egyptian peasants had suffered under the heel of Roman rule, and Ajax’s recent masquerade had exacerbated their discontent. Many would be willing enough to support a revolt. Many, but not all, Ajax thought, as he gazed at the burning village.

When Ajax had led his exhausted men out of the swamp and into the village, the headman had greeted them nervously. He had wisely offered water and food to the column of armed men. As Ajax’s men had thirstily gulped down the water the villagers brought to them, he had seen the place’s potential as an ambush site. Hemmed in by the dyke and reeds on one side, and the tangled mangrove on the other, the village was a natural chokepoint. Ajax knew that he was being closely followed by a handful of lightly armed Romans and saw the opportunity to be rid of them. Twenty men were left behind in hiding as the rest pretended to move on. The Romans had followed their trail, past the place of concealment, and then the trap was sprung. Caught between the men who had been hiding and Ajax and the main body who turned about and charged back into the village, the legionaries had been quickly cut down.

The success of the ambush had prompted Ajax to consider repeating it on a larger scale, against the main column of Romans who would be sure to be following up on their scouts. This time the headman ordered them to leave the village, fearful of the reprisals that the Romans would carry out against his village if they found the bodies of their comrades. Ajax had ordered the villagers to be rounded up and held in the goat pen to prevent any of them escaping to warn the Romans. However, the villagers had begun to wail fearfully and were heedless of his demand for them to be silent, even when he had threatened them with violence.

There had been no alternative, Ajax told himself. He had not wished to have the villagers’ blood on his hands, but the safety of his men came first. The Romans could not be alerted to the danger. The order was given to his most reliable men and they entered the animal pen and slaughtered the villagers. Years of training in Roman gladiator schools meant they were accustomed to obeying orders immediately, just as they had become hardened to the suffering of others. It was over swiftly and when the last of the dying screams had faded, the village stood still and silent, waiting for the arrival of the Roman column.

Karim finished tying off the dressing round the Nubian’s arm and nodded at the man to withdraw from their presence. He wiped the blood off his fingers on the rim of his filthy tunic which stank of sweat and the stagnant odour of the swamp.

‘What now, General?’

Ajax glanced at him, wondering if Karim was mocking him. His followers had always referred to him as their general, and in time Ajax had come to insist on the title. Karim used it in front of other men but usually he spoke frankly and without deference when they were alone.

‘We wait for them to make another attack.’

‘What makes you think they will?’

‘What choice have they got?’ Ajax replied simply. ‘They are here to hunt us down. They must attack, and soon.’

‘Why?’

‘Because they fear that we may escape them again.’

Karim took a sip of water from his canteen and cleared his throat. ‘Then why don’t we escape? Now, while they hesitate.’

‘Because we are evenly matched. They have no more men than we do. We can kill these Romans and leave their bones to rot in the swamp. Are all the preparations complete?’

Karim nodded. ‘Canthus has concealed the stakes in the grass and his men are ready.’

‘Then let the Romans attack.’ Ajax smiled grimly as he stared at the enemy.

Karim watched him closely for a moment before he spoke again. ‘There is another reason why you choose to stand and fight, isn’t there?’

Ajax nodded. ‘So you heard him too?’

‘I did.’

‘Then you will know why I must stand my ground and seize the chance to kill that Roman officer. Unfortunately, I did not see the other one with him.’

‘Centurion Macro.’

Ajax nodded and clenched his fists. ‘To think that I had Macro at my mercy for so many days back on Crete. I could have killed him at any time. I was a fool, Karim. I should have taken justice when it was offered, rather than indulge my desire to torment my enemy.’

Karim shrugged. ‘It is always easy to be wise after the event, General.’

Ajax frowned briefly. ‘True . . . All the more reason why I cannot endure the thought of losing this chance to have vengeance. For being sold into slavery, and for the death of my father.’ Ajax’s tone was ice cold. ‘As long as Prefect Cato and Centurion Macro still live, I’ll not be able to rest, not be able to be content.’

‘You shall never have those things while there is still a Rome,’ Karim responded wearily. ‘What do you think to achieve, my friend? Is your heart set on killing every Roman in the world?’

‘If that were possible, then yes.’

‘But it is not possible.’

Ajax turned to him and flashed a smile. ‘Give me the time to do it and we shall see. Besides, do you think that we are alone in our hatred of Rome? Remember what we got out of that fat captain of the last cargo ship? That the Nubians were poised to invade the south of the province.’

‘I remember.’

‘Then perhaps we should consider throwing in our lot with the Nubians.’

‘Perhaps. But Nubians are an unknown quantity,’ Karim reflected. ‘It might not be wise to join them, even if they hate Rome as we do. I would not make that decision lightly.’

‘Nor would I.’

Karim shook his head pityingly. ‘The desire for revenge weighs down on you, my General. The burden blinds you to the responsibility you have to others. To me, and to all those who follow you. And all those who might one day follow you, if you can put aside your personal craving for revenge. You must put reason before feeling. That is what it means to be a true leader.’

Ajax shrugged. ‘I am a man, even as I am a leader, Karim. I cannot be untrue to the dictates of my heart. Not for you, or any other who chooses to follow me. I must have my revenge. If the gods are kind I will have it here in this village this night. I will kill those Roman soldiers. I will cut the head off Prefect Cato. But, if I take him alive, then I will do to him what he did to my father and nail him to a cross, and sit and watch as he dies, burning under the sun, begging for water or the deliverance of a quick death. I shall give him neither,’ Ajax concluded harshly.

They were both silent for a moment, then Ajax stirred and stared intently down the length of the village to where the legionaries were stirring. As he watched, they formed into a line and presented their shields in the dull glow of the dying flames. At the centre stood a tall, slender figure with a plumed helmet. When the soldiers were ready, he raised his sword and swept it forward and the legionaries began to advance.

Ajax cupped a hand to his mouth and called to his men. ‘Here they come! Archers, make ready! Gladiators, on me!’

As the figures of his men rose up from the shadows, Ajax turned to Karim with a grim smile. ‘Pray that the gods are generous, my friend, and we end this tonight.’

C
enturion Rufus and his party had crept away into the long grass beside the dyke shortly before and should be making their way towards the enemy, Cato calculated, glancing down a gap between two of the houses to his left. There was nothing to see there, just the shadows now that night had set in. The fires had quickly consumed the flammable materials of the houses and small flames licked lazily along charred timbers and provided some illumination for the street and the ground immediately to the rear of the houses. Rufus and his men should be able to advance parallel to the street without being seen, Cato decided.

Ahead of him he could see several figures gathering just beyond the far end of the street and he offered a quick prayer to Fortuna that Ajax was amongst them. He could just see more of the dim forms of the renegades spreading out either side of the main body awaiting them and a moment later the first, unmistakable
phut
of an arrow as it passed above his head.

‘Incoming arrows!’ Cato warned his men. ‘Shields up, lads!’

The men in the rear ranks raised their shields overhead to protect the formation from plunging shots. More arrows fell out of the starlit sky and cracked into the shields or pattered off the hard earth as the line, six men wide and four deep, paced forward, behind the sturdy curves and brass bosses of their shields. The archers kept up a steady shower of arrows as the legionaries approached up the street. The knot of gladiators waiting for them stood still and silent, waiting for Ajax’s order to attack.

‘Watch the flanks!’ Cato ordered, anxious to avoid the formation being broken up by another charge of spearmen. The arrows stopped coming as the Romans approached the waiting gladiators and Cato tightened his grip on his sword and shield. When the two sides were no more than ten paces apart, there was a sharp cry of pain from the left, then Centurion Rufus’s voice cut through the darkness.