The Legion (41 page)

They had gone at least a hundred paces when the floor of the tunnel evened out slightly and made the going easier. Macro glanced back to make sure that the others were not too bunched up, and then gave the order for the party to halt. The echoing footsteps slowly died away and the tunnel fell silent.

‘What is it?’ Aurelius whispered. ‘Why have you stopped?’

‘To listen, sir.’ Macro touched his finger to his lips and then cocked his head to one side and stood still, straining his ears to detect any sound of movement from ahead above the rasp of his own breathing. At first there was nothing, then a faint rustling and soft whispers that made the hair rise up at the back of Macro’s neck. He eased himself forward, past the archer holding his bow ready. The lead man held his torch out in front of him and was staring intently down the tunnel. The gently wavering hue cast by the still torch lit up the way ahead for a good twenty paces. Then, just as it faded into the darkness, there was a black outline as the tunnel gave out on to a wider space.

‘Seen anything moving down there?’ Macro whispered.

‘I thought so, sir.’

‘Thought so?’ Macro growled. ‘You did, or you didn’t. Which?’

The archer swallowed. ‘
I-I
did, sir. Sure of it.’

Macro nodded, and shuffled back past the second archer. ‘Be ready to shoot the moment you see any of ’em.’

As he returned to his original place in the line, Macro passed on the order to draw swords and make ready, then he hissed at the leading archer to continue down the tunnel. The line of men moved cautiously towards the opening. The glimmer of the torch revealed that their path continued downwards but there was darkness where the chamber opened out with a pit on either side. As Macro emerged into the space, he raised his torch and looked round. The builders of the tomb had cut out a cube, roughly forty feet in each dimension, through which a ramp-like walkway passed at an angle. The precision of the angles and dimensions appeared eerily perfect. On either side of the ramp there was a drop of about twenty feet, and by the light of the torch Macro could make out the spoil and rubbish that had been abandoned in the tomb by successive robbers and the curious who had dared to explore the darkened tunnel over the centuries.

‘Watch it!’ the leading man cried out as he ducked. An arrow whirred over his head and struck the next man in the right arm. He cried out and let go of the arrow string and his shaft skittered across the ramp. He staggered back, and the men behind him instinctively ducked down or moved aside as they anticipated another arrow.

‘Watch it, you fool!’ Aurelius’s voice cried out behind Macro. As he turned, there was a scrabbling of boots and a desperate shout of panic.

He glimpsed the legate teetering on the edge of the ramp, arms flailing, his torch flaring madly, then he fell into the pit, the flames of the tumbling torch illuminating his swift descent, broken by a heavy thud that cut off his cry.

‘Shit!’ Macro snarled, as he braced his feet and looked over the edge of the ramp. By the light of the torch guttering close to the legate, Macro saw Aurelius lying spreadeagled on his back. His mouth was open in a soundless scream and his eyes blinked rapidly as blood, dark as pitch, spread out behind his head.

Another arrow shot up the tunnel, narrowly missing the two archers before it bounced off Macro’s shield at an upward angle and clattered off the wall of the chamber. Macro quickly stepped past the wounded archer and lowered his shield to provide cover from the next arrow. A moment later there was a loud crack, amplified by the surrounding rock, as a second arrow struck Macro’s shield squarely and punched through the layers of leather and wood as it lodged. He grabbed the torch from the leading archer. ‘Get behind my shield and start shooting back!’

The man nodded and hurriedly plucked an arrow from his quiver, strung it, drew back and then bobbed up just long enough to release the shaft down the tunnel.

‘Keep that up!’ Macro ordered, and then turned to look up the ramp. The wounded archer was shuffling back along the line of men who had pressed themselves to the ground, and where the ramp entered the tunnel, they hugged the walls. Hamedes was crouched down a short distance behind Macro.

‘What happened to the legate?’ asked Macro.

‘I don’t know, sir. He was just ahead of me, then stumbled and must have lost his footing.’

‘Right, well, we have to get him out.’ Macro raised his voice and called back up the line. ‘Pass the rope forward!’

There was a brief delay, during which another three arrows came flying up from the depths of the tomb, two striking Macro’s shield while the third whipped past and splintered against the rock just beside the tunnel leading up to the tomb’s entrance. Then the coil of rope appeared, passed from man to man until Hamedes took hold of it. Macro had already seen that there was nothing to tie the end to and he pointed back up the tunnel. ‘Find an anchor man to tie it round his waist and then have four more on the rope to take the strain.’

‘Yes, sir. Let me go down and get the legate.’

‘No. You take my shield. I’ll do it,’ Macro decided.

Hamedes came forward, squeezing between the archer and Macro, and took hold of the handle. Macro grasped his shoulder as he gave him his orders. ‘Move forward, nice and slow, like. No more than ten paces into the next section of tunnel. The archer goes with you. Keep harassing whoever it is that’s down there taking pot shots. Clear?’

Hamedes and the archer nodded.

‘Then get on with it.’

As soon as the rope was ready Macro tied a loop in the end and put his boot in. He eased himself over the edge, clinging to the rope with both hands as his men took the strain and began to lower him into the pit. As soon as his boot touched the ground, Macro let go and scrambled across the rubble to the legate. Aurelius’s eyes had closed and his breathing was swift and shallow. Macro carefully examined his body and felt a swelling around the legate’s leg and the misshapen bend to his left arm. The back of his head was drenched in blood and felt pulpy. Aurelius let out a long deep groan and Macro withdrew his hands.

‘You’re in a bad way, old son.’ Macro shook his head sadly. ‘Best get you out of here quickly.’ He pulled the rope over, called for some slack and then fastened it around the legate’s chest, under his arms.

‘Pull him up, nice and gently!’

The rope creaked under the burden as Macro guided the legate’s body into the air. Halfway up he began to tremble wildly and let out a series of breathless grunts. Then he reached the ramp and the auxiliaries pulled him up the tunnel and returned the end of the rope to Macro. When he had climbed back up, Macro took a deep breath and gave his orders. ‘Get the legate and the wounded man out of the tomb. Tribune Cato can have them taken straight back to the main camp. Meanwhile, we’ll settle our business here.’

Macro made his way into the tunnel and rejoined Hamedes. The archer was squatting down beside the priest, making no attempt to shoot down the tunnel.

‘What the hell have you stopped for?’ Macro demanded.

‘There’s been nothing coming the other way for a while now, sir,’ the archer explained.

‘Fair enough,’ Macro relented. ‘Let’s push on. Hamedes, you take charge of the torch, keep it as high as you can.’

With Macro holding the shield to the front, and the torch held up and to the side, while the archer fitted another arrow, the three men continued slowly down the tunnel, followed by the rest of the small force. Soon, Macro could discern another chamber ahead of them. This time, the space was illuminated as the defenders had lit some torches of their own. Another arrow whipped up the tunnel towards them, going to the side where it ricocheted off the wall. Macro kept moving. Now he could clearly hear voices ahead of them. He continued forward, to the threshold of the new chamber, and by the light of a torch left burning on the ground he could see that it was larger than the one they had passed through earlier but had a solid floor with square columns running down its length, also cut from the rock.

There was no sign of the defenders. Macro waited for the rest of his men to join him and prepare to charge into the chamber as soon as he gave the order. A movement by one of the columns to his left drew Macro’s eye just as the man loosed an arrow. It struck the wall close to Macro’s head and he felt a chip of stone cut into his chin.

He snarled, turning towards the man.

Macro roared as he rushed down the length of the chamber towards the enemy who hurriedly prepared his next arrow. He just had time to raise the bow, draw the string and release the arrow before Macro reached him. The arrow zipped past Macro’s ear, and then he smashed his shield into his opponent, sending him flying back. He hit the floor with a solid thud. Macro looked quickly from side to side, but there was no movement except for the auxiliary soldiers spilling out into the chamber. By the light of the torches Macro saw that the man he had downed had a large stained dressing on his thigh. Near him, on the floor of the chamber, was a makeshift walking stick fashioned from a cavalry lance. He had recovered from the blow and was already reaching for his bow. Macro stepped forward and kicked it away. The man reached for the dagger in his belt instead, drawing it and making a wild slash at Macro’s leg. Macro parried the blow and stepped outside the range of the dagger.

‘Drop it!’

The gladiator shuffled away until he reached the wall of the chamber and then he leaned back and held the dagger out, ready to strike again.

‘I said drop it.’

‘Fuck you, Roman!’ the rebel spat. ‘If you want it, come and get it!’

He held the knife up, daring Macro. With an impatient sigh, Macro stepped forward, parried the dagger low on his shield and then thrust his blade into the man’s chest. He gasped under the impact, then slumped aside as Macro wrenched the blade free and turned away. ‘Any more of them here?’

None of his men replied and Macro frowned as he sheathed his sword. ‘Where the hell are they all? Where is Ajax?’

‘Sir! Over here!’

Macro found one of his men pointing to a small opening on the far side of the chamber. There was a short slope down into yet another chamber. Macro squatted and cocked his head for a better look. There was no sign of any movement. He tried to listen but the footsteps of his men and their muttering filled the chamber.

‘Stand still!’ Macro bellowed.

As the last echo faded away, he listened again. There was no sound from the chamber. Nothing. Then he heard it, the faintest of sounds, like a dog panting in the distance.

‘Ajax! . . . Ajax, you are trapped. I’ll give you one chance to surrender, then we’re coming for you and your men . . . Ajax, you hear me?’

There came no reply as he had expected and Macro listened again and then muttered, ‘Damn.’ He turned back to his men. ‘I’m going down there. I’ll call for you if I need help. If there’s any trouble then you pile in and take no prisoners. Got it?’

Macro sheathed his sword and took one of the torches held by his men and inspected the passage more closely. It was steeper than the others they had descended, but no more than twenty feet in length. The floor of another chamber opened out beyond. Macro tested his boots at the top of the ramp but it was clear that he would not be able to keep his feet if he tried to walk down. Instead he crouched down, pushing his shield out at a shallow angle in front of him and held the torch aloft in his sword hand.

‘Be careful, sir,’ said Hamedes.

Macro smiled at him. ‘Here I go.’

Macro shifted his weight and began to slide down the tunnel, his nailed boots scraping over the stone. The rush of air made the torch burn brighter, filling the narrow passage with a fiery glow. Then he entered the chamber and took half a step forward to establish his balance as he reached flat ground. He quickly turned from side to side, waving the torch in front of him. The chamber was much smaller than the one above, with just four columns. There was a crudely fashioned ladder, some discarded cloaks and waterskins lying on the ground but no sign of anyone, nor any sign of another opening in its walls.

Then he heard some scrabbling coming from the far corner of the chamber. Macro raised his torch towards it and saw a man sitting propped up against the wall. He wore only a loincloth and like his comrade in the chamber above he was wounded; he had a large dressing covering his stomach. He held a dagger in his hand but made no attempt to raise it towards Macro. The centurion cautiously approached him and the glow of the torch revealed the man’s glistening skin and the sweat that dripped from his brow. His chest rose and fell in short jerks as he struggled to breathe. He shut his eyes for an instant and then blinked them open, trying to focus on Macro.

‘Where are they?’ Macro asked him. ‘Where are Ajax and the others?’

‘Gone,’ the man rasped, and then licked his lips and smiled faintly as he repeated. ‘Gone . . .’

‘Where?’ Macro asked harshly. ‘They were in this cave. Where are they?’

The other man shook his head. ‘Are you Centurion Macro?’ The man struggled to get the words out.

‘What if I am?’

‘He – Ajax – told me to give you a message.’ The man smiled weakly. ‘He said to tell you that he’s fucked you before, and now he’s fucked you again, and he’ll fuck you for as long as he lives.’

Macro stared at the dying man for a moment, his mind and heart filling with blind rage. The torch dropped from his hand and he snatched out his sword before he even realised that he had done so. With a cry of hatred and anger that tore at his throat, Macro raised the blade and smashed it down on the other man’s head so brutally that skin, skull and brains exploded into one gory welter as the edge of his sword cleaved the man’s skull from the top of his cranium right down to his jaw. Macro yanked his sword free and raised it to strike again, his lips curled back in a savage snarl, but the man was quite dead.

Macro’s sword hung, poised over the body, blood dripping from its edge. He breathed in and out through his nose, his nostrils flaring. Slowly reason returned to him and he backed away from the body. He took one look round the cave in the hope of seeing something, some clue, that would reveal the presence of Ajax, but there was nothing. Macro turned back to the entrance to the chamber and called up to Hamedes.