Текст книги "The Legion"

Автор книги: Simon Scarrow

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The sudden arrival of four hundred men sealed the break in the line and steadied the hard-pressed legionaries of the First Cohort. Cato drew back from the fighting and returned to his horse. Junius stared at him as if Cato were mad for leading the charge, but he ignored the tribune and turned to survey the battlefield. The bulk of Prince Talmis's army had been drawn into the centre of the Roman line, as Cato had hoped it would be, making for where the Romans seemed weakest. On the flanks the main weight of the legion still stood in column, scarcely touched by the enemy missiles. The moment had come, Cato knew. He must attempt to close the trap now, while the centre of his line was still intact.

He nodded to Junius. 'Give the order.'

The tribune hesitated. 'Sir, I-'

'Give the order!'

The soldiers carrying the bucinas heard the command and did not wait for it to be relayed to them. They pursed their lips and raised their mouthpieces and blew. Three strident notes blasted out across the battlefield. The signal was repeated and before the last note died away the two columns of legionaries began to advance, fighting their way forward along the sides of the Nubian horde, out beyond the buckling line of the Roman units holding the centre. Beyond them the cavalry cohorts also advanced, in echelon as they covered the flanks of the Roman army.

At first the Nubians appeared to be unconcerned by the columns of legionaries extending around the edge of the host. Those in the centre were still convinced that victory was in their grasp; they fought like lions to break through the Roman line once again. Cato saw a silken banner rippling from side to side above the centre of the Nubian ranks and he realised that Prince Talmis had come forward in person to urge his troops to shatter the slender force that still held them back.

The flanking cohorts tramped forward until the last century had linked up with the main battle line. Then they stopped. A command was passed down the line and each cohort turned inward to face the sides of the massed warriors of the Nubian army. Another command echoed along each of the extended wings and the legionaries formed their shields into an unbroken wall. Then they advanced, pressing the enemy back before them and cutting down all those who came within reach of their short swords.

While the legionaries closed the trap, the auxiliary cavalry charged forward, cheering as loudly as they could as they made for the enemy horsemen still formed up some distance behind their infantry. If the enemy's nerve held, no amount of noise and raw courage would save the outnumbered auxiliaries from eventual defeat. Cato had calculated that their sacrifice would buy enough time for the rest of the Nubian army to be defeated. However, as he watched, the Nubian horsemen and the camel riders began to break away from their formations, individually at first, then in small groups, streaming away across the landscape to the south.

'Bloody hell,' Junius exclaimed bitterly. 'What do they think they're doing? The cowardly dogs!'

Cato nodded. Only a handful of the Nubians stood their ground and were quickly cut down by the mounted auxiliaries. The suddenness of their victory went to the heads of some of the Roman horsemen and they set off in pursuit before their officers could stop them. However, most began to trot back to form up on their standards, and they turned to form a line across the rear of the mass of Nubian infantry still attempting to overwhelm the centre of the Roman line.

But the tide of the battle had already turned. Those on the flanks, facing the fresh Roman legionaries, were ruthlessly forced back, pressing on their comrades caught in the middle. There was nowhere to escape, and soon no way to move as the fearful Nubians were caught in a vice between the advancing Roman lines. The beating of drums died away and so did the wild ululations and war cries, and as the Romans hacked their way into the Nubians, the first cries of panic and blind terror came from those who were so tightly pressed together that they could barely move and had no way of seeing or understanding the reason for the crush.

As the uncertainty and fear spread to the men still fighting against Macro's line, the Nubians began to back off, looking over their shoulders until they were out of reach of the swords and spears of the Romans, then turning and trying to force their way back through the trapped multitude. The legionaries and auxiliaries paused, breathing heavily and arms drooping from their exertions.

'What the fuck are you waiting for?' Macro's voice boomed out. 'Get after them! Kill 'em!'

Without waiting for his men, Macro roared incoherently and charged forward, stabbing and hacking at the men in front of him. The rest of the men saw that victory was at hand, and charged after him, slaughtering the enemy without any mercy or pity. The sand beneath the legionaries' boots was soon dark with blood and bodies fell so swiftly that the Romans were advancing over them to get at the enemy. The wailing and desperate cries of anguish from the Nubians rose into the hot air as the heat of the sun made itself felt and added to the torment of those still caught in the closing trap. Cato saw that the banner of Prince Talmis still rose above the sea of dark-skinned figures and he could just make out the tight ring of gleaming helmets as the Prince's bodyguards struggled to extract their master from the massacre.

'We should offer them terms,' said Junius and Cato glanced round to see the sickened expression on the tribune's face. 'Sir, we should offer them terms. This is a… bloodbath.'

Cato could understand his reaction, but there was nothing that could be done to end the slaughter. The Romans were outnumbered. If they paused in their deadly work, they would lose the initiative, and with it the battle. They had no choice but to keep on killing. Cato shook his head. 'This is war, Tribune. This is the face of battle, and you had best grow used to it.'

Some of the Nubians tried to surrender, throwing down their weapons and holding out their empty hands as they pleaded for their lives in their tongue. To no avail. They died alongside their comrades who fought on, hampered by the stifling press of men, which made it impossible for them to wield their weapons effectively.

For more than an hour it continued as the Roman cordon closed round those still trapped, Prince Talmis amongst them. The auxiliary cavalry had blocked their retreat and speared those who tried to get past them. Occasionally small groups of fugitives did manage to thrust past the horsemen, but the survivors were allowed to escape and the landscape to the south was dotted with figures running for their lives. As midday approached, the killing began to slacken as the Romans became too weary to continue the slaughter. Some of the Nubians took advantage of this and slipped between men who made no effort to stop them. Cato rode forward and his horse had to pick its way carefully over the bodies as it crossed the killing ground.

'Stand to! Centurions, call your men to their standards!'

He saw Macro, spattered and smeared with crimson, leaning on his shield, chest heaving as he gasped for breath. 'Centurion! Let the enemy pass. All except the Prince and his bodyguard. And the gladiators. They mustn't escape. Understand?'

Macro nodded, blinking away the sweat that dripped from his eyebrows. He pulled himself up and lifted his shield as he turned to address his men. 'Form ranks!'

The men of the First Cohort wearily trudged back to their standards and waited for orders. Cato felt a bitter weight in his heart as he saw that less than half of the men remained. The reserve cohort that had rushed to fill the gap had suffered a similar proportion of casualties. Macro waited until the last of his men was in position and then ordered them to advance on the standard of Prince Talmis. Cato's horse shied at the mounds of bodies that lay in his path and he dismounted and made his way to Macro's side.

'Well, the plan worked.' Macro smiled wearily. 'Never thought I'd see the day when I'd be grateful to Hannibal.'

'It's not quite over yet.' Cato nodded towards the knot of bodyguards gathered around the Prince's standard.

Macro shrugged. 'They're finished, one way or another. Surrender or die, Talmis is ours.'

The Romans opened their ranks to let the last of the lightly armed Nubians and Arabs flee, and then closed in around the bodyguards. They were big men, with scale armour and conical helmets. They carried oval shields and heavy spears and stood shoulder to shoulder as the Romans advanced on them.

Cato raised his arm as they came within twenty paces of the standard. 'Halt!'

His men shuffled to a stop, watching the enemy warily. Cato stepped forward and cleared his throat. 'Does Prince Talmis still live?'

'He does.' An imposing figure edged his way into the front line of the bodyguards. Talmis wore a black cuirass over black robes and his helmet and shoulders were covered with the hide of lion. His expression was cold and bitter as he stared out over the bodies heaped across the battlefield. The Prince's eyes fixed on Cato. 'What do you want with me, Legate? My surrender?'

'Yes.'

'So that I can be displayed in Rome, no doubt, as a prize of your Emperor.'

'That is for the Emperor to decide,' Cato responded. 'My offer to you is simple. You and your men surrender, or I will be forced to have you cut down where you stand.'

'I don't think I will surrender,' Talmis said slowly, and his dark lips twisted into a calculating smile. 'You will let me return to Nubia freely, Legate.'

Cato's brow furrowed. 'And why would I do that?'

'Because I have what you want. I have Ajax. I'll give you to him, in exchange for free passage back across the frontier to Nubia.'

Cato felt his heart quicken. 'Ajax is here? With you?'

'No. I have been keeping him safe while I decided what to do with a man who had failed to serve me well. His life for mine. That is the offer.'

Cato turned to Macro and for a moment there was a tense silence as their eyes met. Macro swallowed but managed to contain any display of feeling that might influence his friend's decision. There would be no question of avoiding the anger of the imperial palace if the Prince was allowed to walk free. And yet the Nubians had been crushed. It would be many years before they dared to defy Rome again. Ajax, on the other hand, would present a far more immediate threat to the Empire if he were allowed to escape from Egypt. He had already stirred up one rebellion that had nearly brought Rome to its knees. Who knew what else the gladiator was capable of? Besides, Ajax was the reason why they were here in the province in the first place. It was the search for Ajax that had consumed their lives for months now. There was an unanswerable need to finish the business that had tormented them both since the rebellion on Crete. Cato turned back to the Nubian Prince.

'Well?' Talmis raised his chin. 'What is your decision?'

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

It was late in that afternoon when Prince Talmis reined in at the head of the small column of riders, trotting down the bank of the Nile. Both he and his bodyguards had been disarmed and were escorted by Cato, Macro, Tribune Junius and a squadron of auxiliary cavalry. Talmis pointed across the river to a small island, two hundred paces across the river. Like most of the islands Cato had seen, it was low and fringed with reeds. However, at the upriver end there was a sizeable slab of rock upon which a shrine had been built, five columns by four. Clumps of date palms grew around the base of the rock and a small landing stage lay a short distance further along the island, beyond which there were only reeds. A skiff was moored to the landing stage, and a single figure could be seen at the entrance to the shrine, watching them.

'I have them under guard there, in the shrine,' said Talmis.

'Them?' Macro raised an eyebrow. 'How many men has Ajax left?'

'There is Ajax and one other, a man called Karim. The others I had put to death when the gladiator returned to my camp with his story of failure. I was saving him for later – that is, if I could not get a good price for him from your Emperor.'

'I'm glad I'm not your ally,' Macro commented.

'Ajax was not an ally. He offered to serve me. He was supposed to distract you and not give battle. But he wanted nothing more than to kill Romans, no matter what the cost to those he led.' Prince Talmis turned to look at Macro and Cato. 'I am impressed that a man can hate you two as much as Ajax does.'

Macro pursed his lips. 'It cuts both ways, Nubian. We have our own reasons for returning his feeling in kind.'

'Truly?' Talmis swatted an insect away from his cheek. He gestured to Macro to continue.

'That's enough,' Cato interrupted. 'It'll be dark soon. I want to deal with Ajax before the day is out.' He turned to the Prince. 'How many of your men are there on the island?'

'Six of my best men. I will send their captain to them to explain the situation and recall the guards. Then the gladiator and his friend are yours. And you will free me and my men.'

'Only when I have Ajax,' Cato said firmly. 'Have your men bring the boat over. I'll go across with your captain and some of my troops to take charge of the captives. Your men can return first, then you are free to go.'

'I see.' Talmis nodded and looked at him with a calculating expression. 'Legate, do you think your victory has ended my ambitions to seize the upper Nile?'

'No. But it will take time for you to mass another army. By then Rome will have sent more troops to the province and bolstered the defences of the towns and forts along the Nile. You will have even less chance of success than you did this time.' Cato looked at him steadily. 'I don't think Rome will have much to worry about from the Nubian quarter for a while. You're a spent force. Ajax, on the other hand, is not. That is the reason why I am prepared to trade your life for his.'

A frown flitted across the Prince's face. 'Really? I think you underestimate me, Roman. We shall see about that, perhaps sooner than you think.' Prince Talmis turned to the captain of his bodyguards and there was a quick exchange before the captain dismounted and climbed down the bank to the edge of the water. He raised a small horn to his lips and blew four times. Two figures scurried down from the shrine, boarded the skiff and set off across the current.

Cato gestured to the commander of the cavalry escort to join him and then spoke quietly to the decurion. 'I don't trust the Prince. I want your two best men to come with me. Once we reach the island and have the prisoners, I'll give the signal for you to release the Prince and his men.'

'Yes, sir. And what'll the signal be?'

Cato thought briefly. 'I'll raise my sword and wave it from side to side. You'll see that well enough from here.'

'Yes, sir.'

Cato glanced at the Prince and his men. 'If they make any attempt to escape before the signal is given, kill the men. Take the Prince alive, if you can.'

Macro moved closer to Cato and muttered, 'What's to stop us killing him anyway? Once we have Ajax?'

Cato shook his head. 'Talmis poses little danger to Rome. I think that this defeat will weaken him. He'll be busy keeping his followers in line as it is. If we kill him, we give the Nubians a grievance that will need to be avenged.'

Macro shrugged. 'If you say so. Frankly, one more dead Nubian suits me fine.'

Cato nodded to the decurion. 'You have your orders.'

The decurion turned in his saddle to call back down the line. 'Castor! Decius! Dismount and escort the legate!'

The two tough-looking men swung down from their saddles and handed the reins to their comrades before unhooking their shields and trotting forward to the two officers. Cato dismounted and gestured to them to follow him. 'You too, Macro. And you, Junius.'

He led the way down to join the Nubian captain as they waited for the skiff. The men in the small boat worked the oars hard as they fought the current. As they waited, Cato stepped aside from the others. 'Macro, over here.'

They moved out of earshot and Cato turned to his friend with a searching look. 'When we get hold of Ajax it is my intention to take him back to Rome alive. Do you understand?'

Macro was silent for a moment and his expression hardened as he replied through gritted teeth. 'After all that bastard's done? You haven't forgotten Crete, Cato. But then it wasn't you he held captive in that shitty cage. It was me, and Julia.'

'I know.'

'Bollocks. I say we kill him, dump his body in the Nile and be done with it.'

'Those were not our orders.'

'Orders?' Macro leaned closer, face to face with Cato. 'Fuck the orders… Fuck 'em. Fuck Sempronius, Narcissus, the Emperor. Fuck the lot of 'em. I don't care. Ajax owes me, and I want my revenge.' He paused and softened his tone as best he could. 'Cato, lad, I need revenge, and so do you, for Julia's sake.'

'I won't speak for her.'

Macro stabbed his finger at Cato's harness. 'She's going to be your wife. Do you think you can live with that precious conscience of yours, knowing what he did to her and yet letting him live an instant longer than necessary?'

'Ajax will die,' Cato replied firmly. 'He will be condemned by the Emperor and crucified. You know it.'

'Oh, he'll be condemned all right, but what if Claudius decides to send him to the arena? You know how good he is. If anyone can win over the mob, it'll be Ajax. Then what? Supposing Claudius spares him, as a sop to the mob? Even if he dies, he'll go out a hero. Either with a sword in his hand spitting defiance, or screaming his hatred of Rome from the cross. If he's crucified, he'll be a martyr, just like Spartacus before him.'

'Then we'll have to bridge that cross when, or if, we come to it.' Cato grasped his friend's arm. 'Macro. We have no choice. We have our orders and I will carry them out. And so will you. Give me your word on it, or I'll have no choice but to send you back to the camp.'

Macro's face flinched with the effort of containing the poisonous rage that Ajax had planted in his heart many months before. At length he sucked in a deep breath through his teeth. 'As you command… sir.'

'Thank you.' Cato bowed his head slightly in gratitude before he glanced towards the river. 'The boat's here. Let's go.'

They returned to the others as the skiff reached the shore. One of the men hopped over the side with a splash and guided the bows in. The captain climbed aboard and settled in the stern before the others took their places; Macro and Cato opposite the captain, then the two auxiliaries and Junius on the small triangular deck at the front. The Nubian pushed the boat off and the man at the oars turned the craft and started to propel it back across the glassy expanse of river towards the landing stage on the island. One of the legionaries leaned out to look down at the water and the boat rolled slightly to that side.

'Sit back!' Macro snapped. 'Don't move again.'

'Sorry, sir.'

The skiff was heavily laden and awkward to move and the man at the oars had to work hard to keep on course. The sun was beginning to sink into a murky orange haze to the west and the dark forms of birds swooped low over the water, feeding off the insects. They were not the only animals feeding, Cato realised as the skiff approached the landing stage. There was a movement in the reeds away to the left and a long glistening snout protruded briefly through the slender green growths, then with a swirl of water and swish amongst the tops of the reeds, it was gone.

The skiff approached the landing stage, constructed from stone in the forgotten days when priests once came to the shrine to make offerings. Now the stone was worn with age and mottled with bird droppings. The man at the oars shouted over his shoulder to Junius, and then pointed to the rope loosely coiled beside the tribune. Junius nodded his understanding and took up the rope, reaching out to the iron ring that was fastened to the side of the stonework. A thrust of the oars brought it within reach and the tribune grasped it and pulled the boat in. As soon as he could he slipped the end of the rope through the ring and pulled it back, drawing the craft closer. Once the craft was securely moored, Junius clambered ashore and helped the others up. When they were all on firm ground, Macro turned to the Nubian captain.

'You speak Greek?'

'Little.'

'Then no tricks, understand?' Macro slapped his scabbard. 'Or else.'

The captain nodded and then led the way up a crumbling stone path lined with palm trees. It was only a short climb before they emerged close to the entrance to the shrine. Cato turned back and saw the distant figures watching them from the riverbank. Then he strode towards the entrance with the rest of the party, his heart beating swiftly as he anticipated the meeting with Ajax. At his side Macro's expression was grim and his lips pressed tightly together. The two auxiliaries followed Macro, and Cato and Junius took up the rear. The sentry at the gate saluted as he saw the captain and there was a brief exchange before the Nubian led the party inside the shrine.

The interior was enclosed in a ten-foot wall on which hieroglyphs had been deeply carved to let the shadows accentuate each character. Two figures sat with their backs to the far wall, watched by two men with spears, some fifteen feet away. Ajax looked up as the new arrivals stood in the entrance. For a moment his face was blank, then his keen gaze took in the weapons in the hands of the Romans and he smiled weakly.

'So, Prince Talmis has been defeated. I wondered. Now I am to be your victim instead of his.'

Cato stared at the gladiator, his mind seething with hatred and a constant refrain to remember his orders. There was something else he was dimly aware of at the same time: a vague sense of disappointment that the long hunt had come to an end.

'We go,' announced the captain.

'What?' Cato turned to him. The Nubian gestured to his men and pointed in the direction of the skiff. Cato nodded curtly.

The captain called to his men and they backed away from the prisoners and gathered their haversacks and joined their officer. Then, with a brief nod to Cato, the Nubian led his men out of the shrine. Cato heard the pad of boots fading away and then there was silence as the prisoners and the Romans gazed at each other.

Ajax broke the silence. 'What will you do with me?'

'Take you back to Rome,' Cato said tonelessly.

'I see. You will make a spectacle of my death? A warning to other slaves of the cost of defying Rome.'

'I imagine that's what the Emperor will want. Frankly, I don't care about that. Macro and I just want to see you pay for all the suffering you have caused.'

'And what of the suffering you caused me?'

Macro growled. 'Your father was a bloody pirate. He deserved his end. As you deserve yours.'

Ajax glanced past the two officers and a brief smile flickered across his face. At once Cato felt an icy tremor course down his back. He turned to follow the direction of the gladiator's eyes. Behind him stood the two auxiliaries, spears grasped firmly as they watched the prisoners closely. Beyond them Junius had drawn his sword and was waving it from side to side. The signal for the release of Prince Talmis. Cato felt his anger rising. 'I didn't give the order to-'

Junius stepped forward and swung his sword into the back of the nearest auxiliary's neck, cutting through the spine. The man's mouth sagged open as he collapsed. The other man half turned and looked down at his stricken companion, too shocked to react fast enough to save his life. Junius stepped forward and stabbed him in the throat.

'What?' Cato stared at the tribune aghast. It was Macro who grasped the truth first. He tore out his sword and turned on Junius.

'Traitor!' he roared. 'He's the one!'

'Traitor?' Cato felt as if he had been struck numb. The image of Hamedes lying dead with a knife in his back leapt into his mind. He felt sick with the terrible knowledge of his mistake. 'No… Not Junius.'

The tribune grinned. 'I doubt you'll ever find the body of Junius. The jackals along the road from Memphis will have seen to that. That's where we caught him, on his way to join the legion.'

He threw his sword over Cato's head and ducked down to snatch up one of the auxiliary's spears. The sword thudded into the ground in front of Ajax and he snatched it up and sprang to his feet, as did the other prisoner. Ajax laughed harshly.

'My thanks, Canthus. You save me again.' Ajax pointed the sword at Cato. 'The legate is mine. Deal with the centurion.'

'Canthus?' Cato felt sick, but still had enough presence of mind to draw his sword. The young man lowered the tip of his spear and thrust at Macro. His action was fast and Macro only just had time to lurch to one side to avoid the weapon. At once his opponent feinted again as he tried to keep him off balance. But Macro had managed to drop into a balanced crouch and easily parried the blow aside. The two men watched each other closely.

A padding of feet caused Cato to turn, just as Ajax slashed out with his sword. The tip hissed through the air and Cato ducked. Thrusting his blade up, Cato stabbed at Ajax's side. It was a hurried stroke, yet the blade cut through his soiled tunic and gashed the muscly flesh over the gladiator's ribs. Ajax snarled ferociously and backed off a step. He reached round with his spare hand to touch the wound. Behind him Cato saw his companion, Karim, the swarthy lieutenant he recalled from the rebellion on Crete. The man was hurrying round the far wall of the shrine, towards Macro's back.

'Macro! Watch out!'

As Cato shouted the warning, Ajax lunged forward, slashing at Cato's face. He tried to scramble away, but the sword point cut high on his forehead and swept on down across his brow, nose and cheek. It felt as if he had been hit in the face by a red-hot hammer and his vision instantly blurred and a terrible, agonising pain seared across his consciousness, blotting out thought of anything else. Cato stumbled back and fell, his sword slipping from his fingers. The impact drove the breath from his lungs and blood spilled into his eyes and blinded him.

Macro heard the warning, and saw Canthus's gaze flicker to his right. Macro pounced forward, hammering his sword down on the fingers of the hand nearest him. The blade cut through and the severed digits dropped from the spear shaft. Canthus howled with pain. Macro ran on, and with his full weight behind the punch, smashed his fist into Canthus's face. As Canthus staggered under the blow, Macro struck with his sword, a savage blow to the side of his head that split his skull with a wet crack. Before Canthus hit the ground, Macro turned on the spot, bracing his feet and holding his sword point out. Karim could not check his sprint in time to avoid the weapon. The point plunged through his chest, shattering his sternum, driving the air from his lungs in a hot blast into Macro's face. Even so the impetus of his charge drove his body on and both men crashed to the floor, the point of Macro's sword bursting out of the rebel's back. Karim glared down at the centurion as blood dripped from his open mouth. Both hands reached up, desperately feeling for the Roman's throat. Macro felt them begin to claw at his neck and heaved him aside, wrenching at the blade.

There was a sudden blur of movement from the other side of the shrine as Ajax charged towards him. Macro slashed out with his sword, aiming it at the gladiator's knee. But Ajax's reflexes had been finely honed in the arena and he leaped high to avoid the blow, over Macro and the body of Karim, and ran on another two paces before scrambling to a stop and turning to face the centurion. Macro rolled on to his feet and rose in a crouch, sword held out to the side, ready. Neither man moved for a moment; and their breathing, the fading gasps of Karim and the moans of Cato echoed softly off the ancient walls.

Ajax licked his lips. 'You should have killed me alongside my father.'

'Yes, I should,' Macro muttered. 'That was a mistake… which I intend to correct.'

He paced forward and swung at the gladiator. Ajax parried the blows and then counterattacked with a swift series of thrusts and cuts that tested Macro's swordsmanship and sharp reactions to the limit. Then he stepped back and they stared at each other in the failing light. The blood from Ajax's side was flowing freely and he could feel the warm trickle running down the outside of his thigh. He knew that he would begin to weaken soon. The telltale chill already pricked at his skin. Soon his vision would begin to blur. The veteran instructor who had trained Ajax years before had drilled into his students the danger signs associated with wounds. As soon as a man knew that he was weakening, he must strike, or soon be reduced to begging the mob for Mercy. Ajax launched another flurry of blows and the clash of blades echoed shrilly off the surrounding walls. Still he could find no way past the Roman's defences. He caught the cold look of satisfaction on Macro's face.

Macro saw the wound in the gladiator's side and the streak of blood on his leg. Evenly matched as they were, time was against Ajax. His loss of blood would steadily slow him down and in the end Macro would kill him. Revenge would be his.

Ajax nodded bitterly as he grasped the truth of his situation. 'You think you have won, Roman. Do you really think you will defeat me? Do you think I, Ajax, would permit that?' He sneered. 'While I live, the flame of rebellion will burn in the hearts of slaves everywhere. And I live as long as you have no proof that I am dead. By that measure, you are defeated today.'

Before Macro could grasp his meaning, Ajax turned and sprinted towards the entrance and ran out into the dusk.

'Shit!' Macro glanced at Cato, momentarily torn by the urge to help his friend. Then he turned and ran after Ajax. The gladiator ignored the path leading down to the landing stage and headed across the cracked paving stones in front of the shrine, down the smoothed boulders and into the long grass. Macro followed him, losing ground thanks to his shorter legs. The grass rustled and whipped at his legs as he ran after Ajax, already some fifty feet ahead of him and gaining more ground with every pace. Ahead Macro could see that the end of the island was close to the western bank, no more than fifty paces of open water. Ajax entered the reeds and his boots splashed into the shallow murky water. By the time Macro reached the reeds, Ajax was already waist deep, wading out into the Nile. He glanced back and smiled as he saw the gap he had opened up between himself and Macro. Then he was clear of the reeds and leaped forward, releasing his sword. He began to strike out into the current.