The Legion (40 page)

‘Sir?’

‘Remove your armour and go with this man.’ He gestured towards Hamedes. ‘He will explain the details as you go.’

‘Yes, sir.’

The legate looked up. ‘There are perhaps four hours of light left. I shall give you two hours to return. That is when I shall give the order to storm the valley.’

For over an hour the two men climbed higher into the rocks that towered above the gorge. They proceeded cautiously as they worked their way towards the small valley at the end of the track, taking care not to dislodge any large stone that might start a landslide and give away their position. Tribune Junius led the way, occasionally turning to Hamedes to ask for general directions. Above them the sun edged towards the jagged summits at the end of the valley and the heat wrapped itself around them like a burning vice so that every breath felt laboured and even the occasional waft of air was warm and cloying. Soon their linen tunics were saturated with sweat and stuck to their skin.

Then, as they crested a ridge that sloped down sharply towards the track, Junius froze and quickly eased himself down against the rock.

‘What is it, sir?’ Hamedes asked in a hushed voice.

‘I see ’em,’ Junius whispered, frantically gesturing for the priest to join him.

Hamedes shuffled forward and peered over the rocks, down into the valley. There was a large outcrop above the final bend of the track and four men in black robes sat amongst the boulders, keeping watch. A short distance beyond, the track gave out on to an open space where the horses were hobbled. Dotted around the cliffs were several openings of various sizes. Two men, with shields slung over their backs and armed with lances, appeared from behind some rocks further along and strode towards the horses.

Junius and Hamedes watched for a moment longer, then the tribune gestured towards an outcrop a hundred paces further into the valley. ‘Come on.’

The two crossed the ridge as stealthily as possible, all the time watching the lookouts below for any sign that they had been detected. However, the Arabs’ attention was firmly fixed on the track and they never once looked up the cliff above them. The two climbed along the rock cautiously, testing every handhold and step as they went. It was exhausting work and by the time they had reached the outcrop they were forced to stop and recover their strength. They took some water from their canteens, and then crept forward on to a flat slab sticking out at a right angle from the cliff. The drop on the far side was sheer and Hamedes felt a twinge of dizziness as he looked straight down into the valley. The two enemy soldiers had reached the horses and sat close by in the shade, foreshortened into heads and limbs from the point of view of those spying on them. There was no sign of anyone else and no clue as to where the rest of the men were concealed.

Junius scratched his jaw anxiously. ‘We have to get closer. Somewhere we can see the entrances of the tombs more easily.’

His companion gazed down the cliff and then pointed towards another outcrop where the valley divided, a spur heading off into the rocks to the north. ‘There, sir. That should do.’

Junius followed the direction indicated, thought a moment and then nodded. ‘Right.’

They were making their way down the cliff when another figure emerged below them, striding towards the horses. Junius opened his mouth to say something then paused and turned to Hamedes.

‘Recognise him?’

Hamedes squinted a moment to be sure and then nodded. ‘Ajax.’

The gladiator stopped when he had a clear view of the horses and the lookouts in the rocks beyond. He cupped his hands to his mouth and called out, ‘Any sign of movement?’

One of the Arabs turned and called back in accented Greek, ‘Nothing, sir.’

Ajax was still for a moment, thinking, then he called again. ‘They’re coming. Sooner rather than later. Be sure to sound the alarm and then make every arrow count.’

The Arab waved his hand in acknowledgement and turned back to keep watch on the track. Ajax made his way over to the men waiting with the horses. There was a muted exchange before the gladiator turned away and returned the way he had come. As he departed, the two rebels approached the horses. The first man took the reins and patted the horse’s flank soothingly while his companion went round to the other side, drew his sword and cut the animal’s throat. It jerked back with a high-pitched whinny that was cut short by a strangled gurgle as the blood coursed from the wound and splattered the dust and gravel between its hoofs. It stood still for an instant and then its legs trembled and gave way and the animal collapsed. The pair moved on to the next horse, which stamped its hoofs but could not move far thanks to the length of rope hobbling it. The smell of blood and the terrified whinny of the first horse made the others afraid and skittish, and the rebels’ bloody task proceeded with difficulty.

‘Why do that?’ Hamedes asked.

‘It’s obvious. Ajax has no need of the horses any more. He doesn’t want them to fall back into Roman hands. Hello? Where’s he got to?’

Ajax had disappeared round a huge boulder dividing the main course of the small valley and the spur. They waited a moment but there was no further sign of him. The tribune drummed his fingers on the rock in front of him and then turned to Hamedes.

‘Wait here. I’m going forward for a closer look. We have to know where he’s gone.’

Hamedes nodded.

‘Make sure you stay out of sight,’ Junius continued softly, though there was an anxious edge to his voice. ‘Give me until the sun reaches the top of those rocks, then if I haven’t returned, get back to the column and report to the legate. Understood?’

‘Yes, sir.’

Junius edged forward, creeping through the jumbled rock on hands and knees, until he was lost from sight. Hamedes stared after him for a while, but saw no more sign of the tribune. Below, the two men killed the last of the horses and then retreated back to the shade, leaving the bodies amid dark stains and pools of blood where the flies and other small insects soon found them and began to feed. Hamedes glanced once more in the direction that Junius had taken and then cautiously made his way further down the slope towards the men.

CHAPTER
THIRTY-ONE

‘
A
re you quite certain?’ the legate asked Hamedes directly.

‘Yes, sir.’ The priest nodded. ‘I saw them enter the tomb. Ajax and some of his men.’

‘What about you?’ Aurelius turned towards Tribune Junius. ‘Can you confirm this?’

Junius shook his head. ‘I went in a different direction, sir. Beyond the place where the priest says he saw this tomb. I went to the end of the track that led off from the main valley. I must have missed it,’ he confessed with a hint of shame in his voice. ‘Just as well that the priest picked up on it, sir, or we’d never have located them.’

‘All the same, good work. Both of you!’ The legate smiled at Hamedes. ‘I shall see that you are rewarded when the campaign is over.’

Hamedes shook his head and responded with quiet intensity, ‘Revenge is its own reward, sir.’

Cato intervened. ‘Can you describe the location of this tomb?’

‘Of course, sir.’ Hamedes squatted down beside the track where a small mound of gritty sand had collected in a hollow. Smoothing it out, he drew a basic map of the terrain with his finger as he explained. ‘Here is the final bend in the track. Beyond that is the valley. There are many tombs dotted about the cliffs, but I saw no one enter or leave any of them. Just here are several large boulders. The track mentioned by the tribune branches off from the main valley and climbs up into the cliffs. About a quarter of a mile along it there is a steep path leading up to the base of the cliff. There is an opening cut into the rock there and steps leading down to a tomb entrance. It is easily missed, sir. I am not surprised the tribune passed by it without seeing anything. It was only because I saw Ajax and two of his men emerge from the steps that I discovered its location.’

‘And you are certain you can find it again?’ asked Cato.

‘Yes, sir.’

‘How many of his men did you see?’

Hamedes thought for a moment. ‘Six Arabs, all told, and four big men, like Ajax, gladiators probably. There may have been more that I missed.’

The legate snorted with derision. ‘Ten men, or thereabouts. It seems I have brought a mallet to crack a walnut. Very well, now that we know where they are we can move up and take them.’ He glanced up at the sky. The valley was already in shadow. ‘We have an hour or so before nightfall. I’ll lead the attack. We’ll take torches into the tomb and hunt them down. Two cavalry squadrons should suffice, and a half century of archers to pick off their lookouts. Tribune Junius will lead the rest of the men back to camp.’

Junius bowed his head. ‘Yes, sir.’

Aurelius clapped his hands together. ‘Let’s be about our business then, gentlemen!’

It was dark by the time the contingent reached the entrance to the tomb that Hamedes had identified. The Arabs had only briefly delayed their entrance into the valley, hitting two of the auxiliary archers before they were pinned down by a steady rain of arrows while a second party of archers worked up to higher ground from where the Arabs could be easily targeted and swiftly disposed of. Aurelius led the column past the empty tombs in the main part of the valley where the horses were left in the charge of one of the cavalry squadrons. Then the priest guided them along the winding track, past a handful of other openings and then up the short climb to the steps cut down into the rock. As they approached, the Romans saw a figure just inside the entrance to the tomb. He shouted a warning to his comrades before scurrying down the tunnel that led deep beneath the cliff. The leading section of auxiliaries made a rush down the steps before Macro bellowed at them to come back.

‘What the hell do you think you’re doing? It’s pitch black down there. You go flying into the tunnel and the first man that falls will break his bloody neck, and the rest of you will trip over him and go the same way. Get a fire going and make up some torches.’ He turned to Cato with a disgusted look. ‘Idiots.’

‘Quite right.’ The legate nodded as he peered into the dark tunnel. ‘We’ll need illumination. Plenty of it.’

The last of the daylight faded in the heavens as the soldiers gathered some dry branches of vegetation that clung to cracks in the rock. One of the archers produced a tinderbox and struck his flints until he managed to coax a tiny flame on to the thin slivers of charred linen in the box. The fire quickly took once the flame was presented to the kindling and soon the cliff above the entrance was aglow with the light from the flames that crackled up from the fire burning a short distance from the mouth of the tomb.

‘Twenty men should suffice,’ Aurelius decided. ‘And I’ll take a section of archers. If the tunnels are straight, they should be able to get a few shots off if they get the chance. Make sure we have plenty of torches, Macro.’

‘Yes, sir.’ He gestured to the tightly bound bundles of dry twigs and brush piled to one side. ‘I’ve already seen to that.’

‘Good man.’ Aurelius nodded approvingly, his gaze fixed on the entrance to the tomb. Macro realised that the legate was rapidly losing his enthusiasm to lead the party now that he found himself staring into the dark hole, wherein lurked a small group of desperate and deadly fugitives.

‘I’ll lead the men, if you like, sir,’ Macro suggested quietly. ‘No need for you to come.’

The legate tore his gaze away from the tomb and frowned at Macro. ‘Certainly not. A legate should share the same dangers as his men. Otherwise he is not fit to command them.’

‘Yes, sir. Shall we begin then?’

‘Yes . . . Yes, of course.’ Aurelius strode across to the bundle of torches and picked one up. He lowered it into the fire and let it catch light, then stood by the steps leading down to the tomb entrance. Macro lit another torch and detailed two of the archers to go first, one with an arrow notched, the other holding a torch. Macro was about to follow them when Cato paced over to pick up a torch.

‘You’d better stay here, sir,’ Macro said firmly.

Cato shook his head. ‘I’m coming.’

‘Not with that arm in a sling. The first stretch of the tunnel looks steep. We’ll need to keep a hand spare to stop stumbling. You’ll only get in the way, sir. Be more of a hindrance than a help.’ Macro meant it in a kindly fashion but Cato shot him a sour look.

‘Thanks. But if you think I’m prepared to sit by while you go up against Ajax, then you’re mad.’

‘The centurion’s right,’ Aurelius interrupted. ‘You’ll stay here with the rest of the men until it’s over. That’s an order.’

Cato’s lips pressed together in a thin line for a moment before he responded through clenched teeth. ‘Yes, sir.’

He backed away and sat on a rock that overlooked the cut steps. He watched sullenly as the archers entered the tomb, then Macro descended the stairs, followed by Hamedes. Cato cleared his throat and called down.

‘Take care, Macro . . . Watch your back.’

Macro looked up at him briefly and grinned, then he passed out of sight. The legate followed Hamedes into the tomb, then came the rest of the auxiliaries and archers, several of them carrying lit torches. The last man, bearing a coil of rope over his shoulder, entered the tunnel and the bright glow of his torch wavered and faded and then there was only the faint scrape of iron-nailed boots on the floor of the tunnel and echoed comments which gradually faded away. Cato sat still for a moment, uneasy with the burden of his fears and suspicions. Then he glanced irritably down at his arm in the sling and slowly eased it free and attempted to flex it. At once there was a red-hot shooting pain through his shoulder joint and he groaned and stilled his arm. When the pain had receded, he eased the sling back on and looked down at the pitch-black entrance to the tunnel. Whatever happened in the tomb, there was nothing he could do about it now. Without Cato being aware of it, his left foot began to twitch in an agitated rhythm as he settled back on his rock and waited for Macro and the others to return.

The passage was wide enough for two men to walk abreast, but the incline was steep and Macro found that he had to step cautiously down the pitted rock surface to avoid slipping. By the wavering and flaring light of his torch and the one ahead of him held by the archer, he could see that the walls of the tunnel were painted with detailed depictions of the native gods and kings. Sometimes the kings, wearing the combined crowns of the upper and lower Nile realms, were making offerings to the gods. In other images they were leading their armies to war. The images were interspersed with the incomprehensible but strangely beautiful script of the ancients that Macro had grown used to seeing on the religious buildings that dotted the province. The air in the tunnel was warm and damp-smelling and the further they went down into the rock, the more the walls and roof seemed to close in about him. It was an illusion, he told himself. He had never liked enclosed spaces and the fact that Ajax and his men lay in wait ahead only added to the burden of apprehension that settled on Macro.