The Legion (33 page)

Macro instantly sized up the situation. ‘Jackals! At ’em!’

He ran round the stricken camel as its rider tried to recover his balance and threw himself into the confusion of the riders and beasts beyond. Keeping his shield up, Macro hacked at the dark skin of a bare leg that appeared in front of him. Then, as the rider yelled and steered his mount away, Macro turned and saw another man above him, black against the glaring sun. Squinting, he could not see the blade he knew was slashing down towards him and could only throw up his sword arm to try and block the blow. There was a resounding clang of metal on metal and then the shock of the impact driving down Macro’s arm, wrenching his strong wrists and the powerful muscles bunched around his elbow and shoulder joints. The Arab’s blade struck the transverse crest of his helmet, breaking through the bronze strip and finally striking the iron reinforcement ridge that crossed his helmet from side to side. The blow would have killed him outright had he failed to block it, but the impact dazed him, blinding his vision with white sparks. He staggered, weaving from side to side, still holding his shield up while his sword arm hung limply at his side. A wave of nausea seized him and Macro feared that he might pass out.

‘The fuck I will,’ he growled to himself.

He shook his head and his vision began to clear. A fresh blow glanced off his shield, and then he heard a shocked gasp. Glancing to his side, he saw that Cato was between himself and the camel and had punched his sword up into its rider’s guts. The Arab wheeled his camel away and clasped a hand to his wound as he rode out of the small cluster of men locked in combat. One of the legionaries was down, a long slash in his sword arm that had opened up flesh and muscle to reveal the bone beneath. But the enemy had lost two men, lying still in the dust, and more were wounded, and now they fell back, away from the heavily armoured infantrymen. Two men started after the enemy but Macro called them back angrily and then turned his attention back to Ajax.

The gladiator was trying to rally the camel archers but they were losing the fight along the riverbank. The legionaries were pushing their way up the slope and spilling out into the fields of wheat beyond. Ajax unleashed his rage at his men, bellowing at them to stand and fight. Though they shared no common tongue there was no mistaking his will, yet his men avoided his eye as they flowed back across the fields.

‘Let’s go at him,’ Cato breathed heavily. ‘While we have the chance.’

Macro turned to the other men. ‘Come on!’

The two officers led the small party of legionaries towards the gladiator and the handful of mounted men who remained with him. Ajax was staring bitterly after his fleeing allies and was only alerted to the danger when one of his men called out to him and pointed towards the Romans quickly closing in on them. Ajax turned in his saddle and glared for a moment before his expression changed to one of a man in a torment of frustration. He reached for his sword handle and his hand hovered there briefly before he took up his reins and urged his horse away from the riverbank.

Cato felt a leaden pain in his heart at the prospect of Ajax evading them and he yelled out towards the horsemen, ‘Stand and fight, cowards! Fight us!’

Ajax’s horse high-stepped as his master locked eyes with Cato, then Ajax kicked his heels in and he and his men galloped away across the field, amid the fleeing forms of their Arab allies. Cato ran as hard as he could after them, crunching over the trampled wheat, but they made good their escape and he drew up, gasping for breath as he watched them head for the pale walls of a distant temple.

‘Bastard,’ Macro panted as he stopped beside Cato. ‘Bastard didn’t have the balls to stand . . . and face us.’

Cato licked his dry lips and fought for breath. His armour felt like a vice around his body, crushing him under the burden of its weight and the heat which prickled like that from an open oven. He took a deep breath and swallowed. Closing his eyes, Cato spoke through clenched teeth. ‘He tasks us . . . tasks us to the limit of our endurance.’

Cato’s eyes flickered open. He drew himself up, looked along the riverbank to see the legionaries wearily forming up around their standards. He let out an impatient breath. ‘We’d better send word to the legate. Tell him we have secured the bank.’

‘I’ll see to it,’ said Macro.

‘And have the rest of your men and the artillery landed as quickly as possible.’ Cato gestured towards the temple and continued harshly, ‘If they think that they’ll be safe in there, they’re in for a surprise. They’ll be caught. Trapped. This time there’ll be no escape.’

CHAPTER
TWENTY-SIX

T
here was a dull thud as another ballista bolt tore into the mud bricks of the outer wall and a small cloud of dust shivered into the air. Ajax squinted down from the top of the pylon and by the failing light he saw that the interior of the wall was cracked and crumbling from top to bottom. The sun had already set and the sky was a deep violet, pricked by the steely glitter of the early evening stars. The Romans were already building fires around the perimeter of the temple wall to ensure that there would be some light to detect any attempt by the defenders to escape. After they had forced a way across the Nile they had brought up three more cohorts of legionaries and some cavalry as well as the battery of bolt throwers from the island.

Ajax had been surprised by the speed with which the Romans had moved to surround the temple complex, and the first of the bolt throwers had begun to shoot the moment it had been set up opposite the curtain wall. Then, as the rest of the weapons were hauled forward by cart, the bombardment had intensified late into the afternoon and early evening.

Two more bolts slammed into the mud bricks.

‘They’ll have a breach in the outer wall before the first hour of the night is over,’ Karim muttered. ‘Then all that stands before them will be the barricades we’ve put together across the entrances to the temple.’

‘Not quite the fortress I had hoped it might be,’ said Ajax.

The heavy tall timber doors of the main gate between the first pair of pylons had been reinforced with palm logs cut from the trees that grew a short distance away. The narrow side entrances had also been blocked up with makeshift palisades and parties of Arab warriors armed with swords and spears stood behind the defences, grimly determined to keep the Romans out for as long as possible. After all, Ajax reflected, that was the purpose of the raid down the western bank of the Nile. To delay the enemy advance and give Prince Talmis a free hand to devastate the Roman province along the upper Nile. Ajax and his column were supposed to tie the Romans down for several days but the enemy had reacted far more swiftly and resolutely than Ajax expected. As things stood, his position was looking decidedly perilous.

There was another impact on the wall, near the breach, and this time the shaft burst through before clattering against the solid stone of the temple.

‘Perhaps we should try to break out before it’s too late, General,’ Karim suggested cautiously.

Ajax smiled. ‘You think it was a bad decision to make a stand here, my friend.’

Karim pursed his lips. ‘It is not for me to say. You command, I follow.’

‘That’s right. I have my reasons for remaining here.’ Ajax pointed towards a cluster of Roman officers standing on a small mound. ‘They are there, the two men in this world that I most want to kill.’

‘You are certain it was them?’

‘I saw them with my own eyes. I heard them call for me.’ Ajax gritted his teeth. ‘I would have charged them down in an instant had there been a chance to face them individually.’ He stared at the distant figures of the enemy officers, their helmet crests and polished breastplates gleaming in the light of a nearby fire as the flames fiercely consumed the dried palm leaves that served as kindling.

‘You can be sure that when the Romans attack, those two will be leading their men. And I shall be waiting for them.’ He turned to Karim. ‘Perhaps it is as well that we are trapped here in the temple. There is no retreat for us now. We hold out as long as we can, and the chance to face my enemies will come. They will die on my sword. Both of them.’

‘And we shall die with them,’ Karim added quietly. ‘You, me, those who have followed you since the first days of the revolt, and our Arab allies. Is that the best way to defy Rome, General?’

Ajax slowly ran a hand through his thick curls. His hair had grown longer than he liked. He preferred a short crop, enough to absorb the sweat on his scalp so that it did not course down his brow when he was fighting. He sighed. ‘I begin to grow weary of defying Rome. Of being forced to run and always looking back for sign of my pursuers. There comes a time when the prey must turn and face the hunter. Then there is a last chance to die with purpose, with dignity. Perhaps that time has come. If so, then I shall kill as many Romans as I can while I still breathe. If the gods are kind, then I shall kill Macro and Cato as well.’ Ajax looked at his friend and clasped his arm. ‘Is that such a bad end? To die on your feet, sword in your hand, with your comrades – your friends – at your side?’

Karim nodded solemnly. ‘Better than to live as a slave, my General.’

‘That is not living,’ Ajax replied. ‘Merely existing.’

There was another series of thuds as the enemy bolt throwers continued to break down the mud-brick wall, then a rumble as a large section gave way and collapsed into the temple compound in a swirl of dust. There was a short pause before a brassy note sounded from the Roman lines. The bolt throwers ceased shooting and then the signal blew again and a column of legionaries quickly formed up just out of bowshot from the temple. Eight men abreast and twenty or so ranks deep. This would be the legion’s First Cohort, Ajax knew. The most powerful unit at the disposal of the commander of the Roman army. A handful of officers broke away from the group who had been surveying the temple’s defences and joined the column. Thanks to his spy in the Roman army, Ajax knew that Macro was the commander of the First Cohort, and he found himself praying fervently that Cato would be joining him in the attack on the temple.

Ajax turned to Karim. ‘Pass the word. The breach is made and the Romans are coming. Have the archers make ready to give our friends a warm welcome.’

Karim nodded. ‘Yes, my General.’

As Karim hurried down the steps leading from the top of the pylon, Ajax beckoned the Arabs standing a deferential distance from their commander at the far end of the platform. They came over and he pointed out the Roman column. Their leader nodded his understanding, his lips parting to reveal gleaming teeth. A moment later Karim’s voice carried up to Ajax, and then there were more shouts as his orders were conveyed to the Arabs by the Nubian officers versed in Greek and Arab tongues as well as their own. As the enemy’s bucinas sounded again and the column tramped out of the gloom towards the breach, Ajax looked down to see his men scaling the makeshift ladders to bring them up on to the roof of the temple. On the other pylons he could see a small flicker of fire as they lit their bundles of brushwood and dried palm leaves. The flames quickly took hold and illuminated the archers standing by, the first of their arrows drawn from their quivers. Strips of cloth impregnated with oil and pitch had been wound around the shafts, just behind the arrow heads, ready to be ignited the moment the order was given. Karim came running back up the stairs, breathing heavily. He swallowed and made his report.

‘The men are ready, General.’

Ajax nodded and then the two men turned to watch the legionaries tramping towards the breach. Behind them, the archers struck some sparks into a tinder box. A moment later the tiny flame was applied to the kindling in the iron brazier and the flames quickly took hold.

‘They’re in range,’ Karim announced. ‘Shall I give the order?’

‘Not yet.’ Ajax strained his eyes as he scrutinised the head of the column. There were two crested helmets there. Officers. ‘We’ll wait until they reach the wall. I want the first volley to strike them as hard as possible.’

Karim nodded, and they stood in silence and watched as the Romans crossed the stony sand towards the breach, a long black line that seemed like a giant armoured centipede in the gathering darkness. As they approached, an order was shouted and the leading ranks turned their shields to the front to present an unbroken line, sheltering the men behind. They slowed as they reached the rubble below the breach and began to climb up the pile of crumbling mud bricks. As the first men entered the gap in the curtain wall, Ajax cleared his throat.

‘Now.’

Karim cupped both hands to his mouth and cried out, ‘Archers! Ignite arrows!’

The order was instantly relayed to the Arabs who crowded round the flames of the braziers, offering up the rags at the end of the arrow shafts. Karim drew a deep breath. ‘Shoot at will!’

The first arrow rose up in a shallow blazing arc from the far end of the temple and then plunged down into the breach. At once more followed, cutting through the darkness as they converged on the breach, as if the gap in the wall was drawing them in upon itself. The fire arrows rained down onto the head of the Roman column. Some fell harmlessly to the ground, their flames dying away to a flicker as they stuck in the soil. Others burst into sparks as they clattered against the wall, or glanced off the shields and armour of the legionaries. A few found their way through the shields and punched into exposed flesh.

The fiery flow continued, illuminating the breach in an uneven flickering light. Ajax heard the same voice bark out another order and the leading century of the Roman column halted and formed a tortoise. The shields rose up above the legionaries’ heads to provide an overlapping roof to protect them from the barrage of fire arrows that rattled down.

There was a sharp crack just below the top of the platform and Ajax glanced over the edge to see a long shaft clattering down. The Roman bolt throwers had begun to shoot again in an attempt to disrupt the aim of the archers. More shots clattered off the sides of the pylons, but some struck home, snatching men off the platforms to send them tumbling down the sides of the pylons, past the vast carved depictions of Egypt’s ancient gods.