Текст книги "The Legion"

Автор книги: Simon Scarrow

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CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

The legate and his senior officers made their way through the camp to the landing stage in front of the temple complex by the light of the torches held by the legate's escort. All around them the men of the Twenty-Second and the cohorts attached to the legion were emerging from their tents, armour and weapons in hand. Those who were the first to dress and fasten their straps hurried to their stations as each unit formed up and waited for orders.

As they made their way up the ramp between the line of Sphinxes, Cato could clearly see the flames leaping up from a distant site, hovering a small distance above the rippling sparkles of the reflection in the Nile.

'Is that the outpost?' he asked Tribune Junius.

'Yes, sir.'

'Tell me what you know about it,' Cato snapped.

Junius looked at him in surprise.

'Look, I've only been here a few days,' Cato explained. 'I haven't had a chance to familiarise myself with the area.'

'Sorry, sir. I don't know much. It's little more than a fort. Garrisoned by a half century of auxiliary troops. It's there to keep an eye on the trade route running along the far bank. Or it was, before the Nubians got here.'

Macro stood on the landing stage and strained his eyes towards the distant fire. 'And how do you know that's the work of the enemy, eh? Could be desert raiders, or perhaps some fool's set the granary alight. Has there been any word from the garrison commander?'

'No, sir.'

'Hmmm.' Macro stroked his lip. 'Still, we can't be sure. If you're wrong, Tribune, then you've sounded the alarm and called the entire army out for nothing. You're not going to be a popular man. Oh, and by the way, you don't call me "sir", even if I am the first spear centurion.'

'Sorry.' Junius looked abashed and Cato decided to come to his rescue.

'You did the right thing. It's possible that it's an accident. However, we're on a war footing and it could be the result of enemy action. It's hard to say now that we're not sending patrols out any further than ten miles.'

Aurelius overheard the remark and stirred but he did not say anything, continuing to stare across the river. At length he turned to his chief of staff. 'Geminus, any other reports of enemy movement?'

'None, sir. Nothing from the lookouts, and none of the day's patrols reported anything out of the ordinary.'

'Well, something's up now. It could be an accident. If we've had no report from the fort within the hour then send someone across the river to investigate.'

'Yes, sir.' Geminus cleared his throat. 'And the men, sir?'

'What?' Aurelius turned towards him.

'Shall I stand them down, sir?'

Aurelius looked back towards the fire and was silent for a moment before he replied, 'No. Not until we know for certain what is going on over there.'

Macro glanced at Cato and cocked an eyebrow. Cato ignored him and stared at the fire. It was clearly growing in intensity and looked as if it threatened to consume the entire fort. He made up his mind and approached Aurelius.

'Sir, I don't think we should wait for a report. We should send someone across the river to investigate at once. If it is the work of the enemy then we need to know immediately. Even if it is just an accident we need to know if the garrison requires any assistance.'

'Are you volunteering to cross the river and reconnoitre, Tribune?' asked Aurelius wryly. 'Or are you not too subtly volunteering a more junior officer?'

'I'll go, sir,' Cato replied. He was infuriated by his superior's insinuation. 'Better to send someone with experience.'

'In that case,' Macro intervened, 'I'd better go too, sir.'

Cato turned to him. 'It's not necessary. I can do the job by myself.'

Macro was about to speak, and then remembered that the days of fatherly advice had passed. He kept his mouth closed but looked at Cato imploringly. Cato shook his head.

'Not this time.'

'Why not?' asked Aurelius. 'Surely two sets of eyes are better than one? I'm sure the legion can spare you both for a few hours. Take Macro.' He looked at Cato and forced a solicitous expression. 'For my peace of mind, eh? Oh, and you can take Junius too, as he was so keen to sound the alarm. If it turns out to be a minor incident then perhaps spending a night grubbing around in the darkness might teach him to think twice before reacting so precipitately in future.'

'Is that an order, sir?' Cato asked flatly.

'It is. Report to me the moment you return.' Aurelius raised an arm to gather the attention of the other officers. 'I've seen enough. Come, back to headquarters. Geminus, pass the word to all formations that they are to stand to until further notice.'

'Yes, sir.'

With that, the legate turned away and led his entourage back towards the entrance to the temple complex. Cato shook his head.

'I'm sorry, sir,' said Junius. 'I didn't mean to cause unnecessary trouble. Will the men really hold it against me? Will they resent me?'

'Lad,' Macro smiled at him, 'you're a tribune, doubtless by virtue of family connections, like most who hold your rank. You have no prior military experience and once you have served your time in the legion, you'll be returning to some cushy job in Rome. Take it from me, the common soldiery will always resent you.'

'Oh, dear.' Junius looked crestfallen. 'I had hoped to win their respect at least.'

'You can still do that,' Macro nodded, 'when the time comes to face the Nubians.'

Cato gestured towards the fire. 'That may well happen rather sooner than you think.'

'Or not. Why would the enemy strike there?' asked Macro. 'It doesn't make sense. If they wanted to surprise us then why not go directly for the camp? Why take out an outpost and alert us to their presence? I tell you, it's a false alarm, and when I get my hands on the fool who caused that fire, I'll be sure to give him a roasting.'

A figure emerged from the ramp and hurried towards Cato. It was Hamedes.

'Sir, I overheard the exchange with the legate,' the priest said apologetically. 'I wish to go with you. If there is any trouble I will fight at your side. If you give me the chance.'

'No. I don't need you. I have enough men already. Go back to the camp and wait for us there.'

Hamedes looked hurt. 'Sir, I have sworn an oath to Osiris to serve at your side until you are victorious.'

'I'm sure Osiris will understand,' Cato replied placatingly. 'Now return to camp. That's an order.'

Hamedes frowned and then turned away and disappeared into the darkness.

'No question of it, the lad's keen,' Macro said in an amused tone. 'Even after a day's hard marching.'

'I have no quarrel with his attitude, as long as it doesn't start becoming irritating.' Cato strode over to the steps leading down to the wooden quay. 'Come on. Let's get on with it.'

'Well,' Macro shrugged, 'there's no pleasing some people.'

Cato pulled a section of legionaries from the First Cohort and boarded the nearest of the barges, shaking the crew out of their slumber as they lay on deck. The captain gave the order for his two crewmen to fend the barge off and into the current. He was about to raise the sail, but Cato stopped him.

'No. There's a chance that the sail might be seen. Use the oars.'

'It'll take longer,' the captain protested. 'And it'll be tiring work.'

'You'll use the oars,' Cato insisted, and went forward to sit just in front of the mast. Macro and Junius joined him and the legionaries sat on the deck, keeping clear of the two sailors who unshipped the long oars and began to stroke the barge out into the black water of the Nile. They rowed across the current and slowed down to creep forward once they approached the far bank. Ahead, the fire was starting to die down and an odd glow outlined the walls of the fort, dark and gaunt against the wavering light.

Cato turned and called softly back to the captain. 'Get your boat as close to it as you can. If we have to leave in a hurry, I don't want to run any further than I have to.'

The captain grumbled a sour reply and steered the barge along the riverbank. They passed a few small houses whose dwellers slept on, unaware. Once the barge was as near to level with the fort as Cato could judge in the darkness, he ordered the captain to steer in, aiming for a narrow stretch of earthen bank. Having seen one crocodile strike from the concealment of reeds, Cato was fearful of repeating the experience. The barge grounded softly and gently jolted the soldiers. Cato stood up, took off his sword belt and removed his helmet and scale vest.

Macro stared at him. 'And what do you think you're doing, sir?'

'We're not going into a fight, just scouting.' Cato picked up his sword belt and slipped the strap over his head. 'What are you waiting for?'

With a sigh Macro followed suit, and a moment later so did Junius. Cato turned to him. 'Not you.'

Junius paused. 'Sir?'

'You're staying here.'

'I was told to come with you, sir.'

'And I'm ordering you to remain here. I'm leaving you in charge of the boat. Make sure that the captain doesn't get cold feet. If we come running, I want the men ready to hold the bank until we reach the boat. Is that clear?'

'Yes, sir.'

Cato slipped over the side of the barge and splashed into the calf-deep water. He made his way ashore and up the bank to the edge of the long grass that grew there. Macro joined him a moment later and then they set off towards the fort, no more than half a mile away. They reached the edge of a wheat field and picked their way through the crop and then encountered a wide irrigation ditch, with reeds growing along each side. Cato paused, listening.

'What is it?' Macro whispered.

'I… nothing. Let's go.' Cato was about to climb down into the reeds when there was loud splash and something large rustled through the reeds a short distance to his left. At once Macro drew his sword. They both froze for a moment.

'What was that?' Macro asked.

'Without seeing it, I'd guess it was a crocodile. I think we should find a way round the ditch.'

'Crocodile?' Macro quietly put his sword away and muttered, 'Good idea.'

They followed the ditch for a quarter of a mile without finding its end, or any means of crossing it. Cato fumed at the time they had wasted and decided to double back. Perspiring freely in the warm air, they retraced their steps until they came across a narrow footbridge supported by a crude wooden trestle.

'After you, sir,' said Macro.

'Thanks.' Cato tested his weight on the narrow plank and found that it bowed slightly. Taking each step carefully, he crossed over and waited for Macro before continuing towards the fort, They were close enough now to hear the crackle of the dying flames. Cato paused.

'I can't hear any voices.'

Macro strained his ears. 'No. Nothing. Looks like I was wrong about it being an accident.'

'If the enemy took the place, then why aren't they still here?'

'Maybe it was a hit and run raid,' Macro suggested.

Cato nodded. 'Perhaps. Let's get a closer look.'

They reached the bottom of the knoll and began to climb towards the fort. The acrid smell of burning filled the air and as they neared the gate, a new odour was added to the stench: burnt flesh. The gatehouse had collapsed and the two officers cautiously poked their heads round the side of the ruined arch. Cato winced as the heat struck his face, forcing him to squint. The interior of the fort had been destroyed by the blaze and by the light of the small fires that still burned he saw the blackened, twisted shapes of bodies.

'That's proof enough for me,' said Macro. 'They were attacked. And no raiding party would have dared take on a fort like this. It might be small, but even so it would present too much of a challenge.'

'I agree. We'd better report back to the legate.'

At that instant a voice cried out in the distance. A rising ululation. It continued for a moment and then stopped.

'That came from the direction of the boat,' said Cato. 'Let's go.'

They hurried down the slope and entered the field they had crossed a moment earlier, following their trail back through the trampled wheat. Then another cry rose up in the darkness, behind them now, some distance beyond the fort.

'Shit,' Macro hissed. 'Whoever that is, there's more than one of 'em.'

They reached the far side of the field and then entered some long grass. This time it was impossible to determine which direction they had come from. Looking at the dull mass of the distant hills to their left, Cato estimated the direction they should take and they set off again. Another cry came from ahead, closer, and was quickly answered by another some distance behind, and then another, away to their left.

'Right, now I'm starting to worry.' Macro spoke in an undertone. 'We'd better get a move on, before any more turn up.'

But Cato was still. 'They can't be hunting us.'

'Why not?'

'How would they know we're here?'

'Maybe they saw us by the fort. Let's think it through later on, eh?' Macro nudged his arm.

Cato nodded and they set off again, moving more quickly, ears and eyes strained to detect any sign of the enemy, or whoever might be making the strange noises. They crossed back to the other side of the irrigation ditch and were heading across the fields towards the grass and the river beyond when Cato heard a harsh grunt to their left, and the soft padding of feet. A voice called out, 'Huthut!'

'Camels?' Macro guessed.

Cato increased his pace to a trot and they both hurried across the last stretch of the field and entered the grass. Almost at once they blundered into a crouching figure. Macro wrenched his blade out and leaped forward, knocking the man down. He was about to strike when a familiar voice gasped, 'Sir! It's me, Junius!'

'Junius…' Macro rose up, lowering his blade a fraction. 'Shit. I almost killed you.'

Cato was furious the moment he recovered from his surprise. 'What the bloody hell are you doing here? I told you to stay with the boat.'

'Sorry, sir. I heard someone calling out a while back. I thought it best to investigate.'

'You don't think. You do as you are ordered.'

The sound of camels grew louder and now they could hear voices as their riders talked to each other.

'They're almost on us,' Macro growled. He thrust Junius forward. 'Move. Back to the boat.'

The three officers ran on through the long grass, making for the river, Junius stumbling in the lead, Macro next, holding his sword ready, and then Cato, constantly glancing over his shoulders for signs of the camel riders searching for them. Then they emerged from the grass and the broad black expanse of the Nile lay before them. Macro glanced both ways and then thrust his arm to the left. 'There's the boat. Come on!'

Cato came out of the grass and saw it, no more than two hundred paces away. As they broke into a run along the riverbank, the swish of grass sounded and their pursuers closed in. They had run half the distance when Junius stumbled and sprawled forward with a loud cry of alarm.

Macro bent down, grasped the scruff of his tunic and yanked the large youth back on to his feet.

'Just give us away, why don't you? Idiot.'

'Sorry.'

Macro kept his fist bunched in the man's tunic and hurried him on. Cato brought up the rear. The tribune's cry had alerted the men and they let out a shout as they spotted their prey running along the riverbank. Glancing to his left, Cato could see several of them riding through the grass, as they made to run down the Romans.

Cato realised there was nothing to be gained from trying to be quiet any more and he yelled out towards the boat, 'Legionaries! On me!'

The soldiers snatched up their shields and clambered over the side and began to struggle up the bank, just as Junius and Macro reached the top and half ran, half slid down towards the water. Cato was a short distance behind them when a camel lurched out in front of him. He dodged round, ducked beneath the long curve of its neck and ran on. The rider shouted in alarm and drew his sword with a dry rasp. But he had reacted too late and Cato was already stumbling down towards the boat, the legionaries falling back with him as they presented their shields to the other riders who had appeared on top of the bank. One of them leaped down from his saddle, landed heavily and then rushed down the slope, crashing into the shield of a legionary. He gave a sharp grunt as the Roman thrust his sword into the rider's gut and then wrenched it free. Beyond, Macro heaved Junius aboard and then rolled over the side on to the deck. Cato clambered aboard and bellowed to the legionaries to follow him. The barge captain and his men were already easing the barge away from the riverbank with one of the long oars. The legionaries turned and splashed into the shallows and scrambled aboard.

There was a crack on the deck close by Cato and he instinctively ducked before he had the presence of mind to shout out a warning. 'Watch out!'

Another arrow whirred through the air close overhead. The barge lurched free of the silty river bed and was caught by the flow of the water and started to drift downriver. The crew hurriedly placed the oars into the rowlocks and strained to get the craft away from the bank. An arrow splashed into the water close by, then another struck the deck. Moments later there was a soft whack and one of the legionaries gave a cry as he collapsed on to the deck, while his shield landed awkwardly and tumbled over the side. Cato saw an arrow shaft projecting from just below the man's neck. The soldier reached for it with both hands, making a ghastly gurgling noise. His boot scraped across the deck for a moment before his struggles eased and stopped and he lay in a slowly expanding pool of his own blood. More arrows splashed into the water behind them before the enemy realised their target was out of range and ceased shooting.

Macro let out a sigh of relief, then turned on Junius. 'Next time the senior tribune gives you an order, you obey it to the letter. Do you understand, you fuckwit?'

'Y-yes. I'll do as you say.'

'Good.' Macro turned to Cato. 'You all right?'

'I'm fine.' Cato turned to look back to the western bank. 'No doubt about it now. Looks like the legate has been saved a job. The Nubians have decided to bring the war to us.'

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

'This is going to be tricky,' said Macro as he stood on the foredeck of the felucca with Cato and surveyed the west bank of the Nile the following morning. The enemy had several patrols watching the movements of the Romans on the opposite side of the river. 'They'll see us coming and be ready to give us some grief wherever we land.'

Cato nodded. The enemy would be able to head off any attempt to cross the river. The problem was made worse by the lack of boats with which to make the crossing. The moment that the people of Diospolis Magna had heard of the enemy's presence so close to the city, many of them had fled. The wealthier inhabitants had hired every available boat and had set off downriver with as much of their portable wealth as possible. By the time Aurelius took action to stop the flight, there were only a handful of barges and feluccas left. Enough to carry five hundred men at a time. The Roman officers on the felucca had already seen at least that number of men waiting for them on the west bank. Any attempt at a landing would be in the face of superior numbers. The first men over the river were going to have to hold their ground while the boats returned with reinforcements. It would be tricky indeed, Cato agreed, with a wry smile at Macro's understatement.

'Tricky or not, it has to be done,' Aurelius announced from the main deck where he sat on a padded stool. One of the headquarters slaves stood behind him, holding a sunshade over the legate. A handful of other officers stood on the deck in the open sun, sweating profusely in the heat. Although there was a strong breeze blowing, the hot air it carried across the river merely added to the discomfort. Aurelius pondered a moment before continuing. 'Before the army can advance, we have to remove the threat posed by this enemy column.'

Macro stared at the nearest of the Arab patrols: six men on camels keeping level with the boat as it sailed slowly upriver, safely beyond bowshot. He was frustrated by the legate's failure to get stuck into the enemy. His patience, limited at the best of times, was being sorely tested by the vacillation of his superior. 'Sir, we don't know how many of them there are over there. It could be a relatively small force. We should focus our attention on dealing with the main army. In my view, it is dangerous to keep handing the initiative over to the Nubians. We should press on and deal with Prince Talmis, sir.'

Cato glanced quickly at Aurelius, but the legate did not take issue with this challenge to his authority. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, staring at the deck in thought. 'I am not so sure that is wise. It would be dangerous to leave our base in Diaspolis Magna while the enemy is lurking nearby. What if they cross the Nile and attack? They could take the city, destroy our stores and then march on our rear. We would be trapped between the two enemy forces. If we are defeated, then there will be nothing standing between the Nubians and the delta. Governor Petronius will not be able to stop their advance.' Aurelius looked up at Macro. 'If we lose control of the Nile then the wheat supply will be cut off. Alexandria would starve, not to mention the mob in Rome who depend on the grain from Egypt. No, the risk is too great. We must deal with the enemy forces one at a time.' He nodded towards the Arabs. 'Starting with them.'

Macro stirred, about to protest, but Cato addressed him in an undertone. 'He's right. We have to take care of our flank first.'

Macro pressed his lips together for a moment before he replied. 'At this rate the campaign will drag on for months. What about Ajax? Why give him time to escape us again? Is that what you want?'

'Of course not. But we must deal with one threat at a time.'

Macro was silent for a moment before he growled, 'Then we'd better get on with it, hadn't we?'

The legate cleared his throat. 'If you two have finished?'

Cato and Macro faced him and Aurelius glared at them briefly before he continued. 'We must get sufficient men across the Nile to deal with the enemy. Clearly the best course of action is to cross the Nile further downriver and march back along the bank to engage them. The First Cohort should be sufficient to cope with the task.' He nodded towards Macro. 'It is the strongest unit in the legion and should easily defeat the enemy column. Once Centurion Macro has driven the enemy off, I shall send the Syrian cavalry cohort across to screen our flank as the main column marches on Prince Talmis.' He paused. 'Any questions?'

The officers surrounding him remained silent. Cato looked at the Arab patrol keeping pace with the boat, then turned back to face the legate and responded as diplomatically as he could.

'Sir, while I agree with your plan, there is one aspect of it that causes me some disquiet.'

Macro frowned. 'Disquiet?'

'Oh?' Aurelius raised an eyebrow. 'And what aspect would that be, Tribune?'

Cato pointed to the patrol. 'They are following us and watching our every move. The enemy will be ready to contest the landing wherever Centurion Macro and his men attempt to cross the Nile.'

'I can handle that,' Macro said firmly, looking steadily at the legate. 'You have my word on it, sir.'

Aurelius smiled thinly and turned his gaze back to Cato. 'Your friend seems unconcerned by the prospect of a fight. So your sense of disquiet is misplaced. Of course I understand that an officer of your years might be unnerved by the prospect of a river crossing.'

Cato stared at his superior as he struggled to keep his face clear of any expression that might betray his anger at the legate's accusation. He swallowed and spoke in a flat tone when he replied. 'I can assure you, sir, I understand the risks entailed in making an opposed landing across a river as wide as the Nile. Indeed, I took part in such an action during the invasion of Britannia.' Images of the landing briefly flitted through Cato's mind – the languid flow of the Tamesis as he stood in the crowded barge with the men of his century, staring at the roaring horde of Celt warriors waiting for them on the far bank. Yes, he knew the danger that the First Cohort would face, Cato reflected. He cleared his throat and continued addressing the legate.

'That was not my point though, sir. What occurs to me is that since the enemy will be able to oppose the First Cohort wherever they attempt to cross, Centurion Macro might as well cross the Nile here as anywhere else. It would save time, if nothing else.'

'I see.' Aurelius stroked his chin as he looked across the water at the enemy-held bank where the Arab patrol returned his gaze. 'You are right, Tribune. But I wonder,' he turned back to Cato, 'if you would make such a proposal if it entailed putting your own life at risk.'

'Of course, sir. I would be honoured to join the First Cohort when they assault the far bank.'

Aurelius's lips lifted in a thin smile. 'Then you shall have your wish.'

Macro stared round at the rest of the centurions of the First Cohort. Most of them were good men, according to their records and his assessment of them in the days since he had assumed command. Two were newly promoted, former optios replacing officers who had failed to complete the route march. They might well be new to the rank but they were tough veterans keen to prove themselves worthy members of the legion's centurionate.

'I know this kind of action is new to you,' Macro began. 'You may have served along the Nile, or on the delta, since you joined up, but let me tell you, an amphibious operation is a difficult beast at the best of times. It's not standard procedure for the legions, and the tribune and I have only had to take part in a handful of actions of this kind.'

That was something of an overstatement, Cato mused. Macro looked at him and Cato nodded reassuringly for the benefit of the other officers before the commander of the First Cohort continued.

'We will not be going into action as a cohort. Nor indeed as centuries. It'll be every man for himself until we gain a foothold on the far bank. Once we are ashore, it's vital that your men form up on the standards as quickly as they can. Make sure your section leaders know that. They're to look out for their men and try and keep them together. The sooner we can form up each century, and then the cohort, the better our chances of surviving until the follow-up wave can cross the river.' Macro paused and then pointed across to the narrow island, little more than a strip of silt surrounded by reeds, that stood two hundred paces from the far bank. 'I've chosen to cross over there, close to the island.'

The men of one of the other cohorts were already on the island, together with ten of the legion's bolt throwers.

'We'll land the follow-up wave there before the first three centuries cross the final stretch of river. That way we shall have more boots on the ground as quickly as possible. The bolt throwers will be able to cover our flanks once they have finished harassing the enemy before the first wave goes in.'

It was as good a plan as any, Cato reflected. Macro had done all he could to give his men the best chance. Even so, the first wave across would have a bitter struggle ahead of them. Once they jumped over the side of the boats carrying them to the far bank, there would be nowhere for them to retreat to. They must fight their way ashore, or die in the shallows. Those were the only options and the men knew it. The dice would be cast the moment they stepped aboard and began to cross the Nile.

Macro looked round at his officers and took a deep breath. 'I'm not going to pretend to you that this is going to be anything other than a tough fight. Our losses are likely to be heavy, but this is what we train for, and what we get paid for.'

Some of the men smiled at the last remark and Macro pressed on to make the most of the light-hearted moment. 'Just tell your men to go in hard and cut the bastards to pieces. They're not to stop for anything until they reach the top of the riverbank. Only then are they to look for their standards. Is that clear? Now then, any questions?'

He waited a moment but his officers remained silent, and Macro nodded. 'That's all, then. Return to your units and brief your men. Have them formed up and ready to board the boats the moment the legate gives the signal to proceed. Good luck.'

The officers murmured a reply in kind and then made their way out of the shade beneath the date palms and returned to their centuries, clustered along the riverbank in whatever shade they could find. Macro watched them briefly before he turned to Cato.

'What do you think?'

'They seem up for it,' Cato replied. 'In any case, once the attack begins, it's do or die. That tends to have a powerful motivating effect on the men.'

'True enough.' Macro looked at Cato. 'What about you? Are you ready for this?'

'As ready as I ever was.'

'You didn't have to volunteer for it.'

'No. But then why would I let you snatch all the glory?'

Macro shook his head. 'Since when did you ever do anything for the glory of it? You always have to have some damn practical reason or other for volunteering.'

'Is that so?' Cato pursed his lips. 'Then let's say that it'll do the men good to see one of the senior officers fighting alongside them. That, and I have to make sure that no harm comes to you. I'm not going to be the man who has to take back the sad news to your mother. That would take someone of extraordinary courage, and foolhardiness. Not me.'

Macro laughed and slapped Cato on the shoulder. 'For your sake then I'll try to stay alive, eh?'

The sun had declined from its zenith as the fleet of small craft set off from the east bank of the Nile. Half the men of the First Cohort sat or stood in the boats, nervously watching as the crews raised the sails and got under way. Watching them, Cato could understand their mood. Weighed down by their armour, the men would sink to the bottom of the river if they fell over the side. The thought of drowning momentarily filled Cato with terror as he vividly imagined his helplessness, encumbered by heavy kit, struggling to free himself as his breath ran out and his lungs burned, and then the final gasp that would fill his throat with choking water and the last desperate flailing of his limbs before he died. He shook the image off and looked at Hamedes sitting on the central thwart opposite him. It was hard to believe that he had ever been a priest, thought Cato. The Egyptian wore a scale armour vest, bronze helmet, and rested a large shield against his knees. His face was set in a determined expression as he stared down. He looked every inch a fighter and Cato wondered if the young man would consider enlisting once the campaign was over. Because he lacked Roman citizenship the legate had refused to take him on to the official roll of the legion and he had been entered as an irregular scout and issued his kit on a temporary basis.