Текст книги "The Gladiator"

Автор книги: Simon Scarrow

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The men untied the ropes fastening the makeshift spar and carefully lowered the spar and sail to the deck. Then, overcome by the exhaustion and strain of the desperate hours of the. previous night, and the following day's shifts bailing the water from the hold, the crew slumped down and rested.

'What do we do now?' asked Julia.

'We?' Macro turned to her. 'I want you to stay here, miss. You and the rest of the crew and passengers. Meanwhile, Cato, your father and I are going into Matala to check on the lie of the land.'

'I'm coming with you.'

'With respect, miss, you aren't. Not until we are sure that it's safe.'

Julia frowned and then looked up at Cato. 'Take me with you.'

'I can't, ' Cato replied. 'Macro is the ranking officer. If he says you stay, then you stay'

'But Cato – '

'He's right, my dear, ' Sempronius intervened. 'You have to stay here. Just for now. We'll be back soon. I promise.'

Julia met her father's gaze and after a moment, nodded. 'All right.

But don't take any risks.'

'We won't, miss, ' said Macro.' Come on, Cato. Let's get our kit from the cabin.'

'Kit?'

'Most of it survived, I checked, ' Macro explained. 'If what you said earlier is anything to go by, I'd be happier if we went armed.'

A short time later, the two centurions and the senator splashed down into the shallows from the end of the boarding plank that had been lowered from the bows. The mate of the Horushad ordered two men to take the main anchor and carry it a short distance up the shingle before wedging its flukes into the beach. He was testing that the anchor was securely fixed as the Romans came ashore and made their way up the shingle to firmer ground.

'All done?' Macro asked.

The mate nodded.' The ship's as safe and secure as she can be.

At least she can't sink.'

'Good. You've done well. Your captain would have been proud of you.'

The mate bowed his head. 'I hope so. He was a good man, sir. Best captain I have sailed with.'

'A sad loss, ' Macro responded flatly. 'Now then, we're heading into the port, or what's left of it, to see what the situation is. Meanwhile, you're to remain here. Make sure the crew stays close to the ship and don't let anyone come aboard.'

'Why?'

'Just do as I say, all right? Hopefully some one has restored some kind of order to Matala. But if they haven't... then I'd rather you 31

made sure that you looked after your people, and the senator's daughter. Understand?'

'Yes, sir.' The mate nodded solemnly 'We have a few weapons in the stern locker. In case of pirates.'

'Let's hope you don't need to use them.' Cato smiled thinly. 'But use your judgement. If there's any sign of trouble, then get everyone back on board and pull up the boarding plank.'

'Yes, sir. Good luck.'

'Luck?' Macro patted the sword hanging at his side. 'I make my own luck.'

The two centurions and the senator set off along the shingle towards the port. Cato glanced back over his shoulder and saw Julia following their progress from the foredeck. She waved her hand hesitantly as she saw him looking back and he resisted the urge to wave back. He was thinking like a soldier again and was already closely watching the cliffs to their left for any sign of danger as they trudged along the top of the shingle. It was only a quarter of a mile to the port, and as they approached, the debris that had been carried on the backwash of the wave increased in intensity.

Then they came across the first bodies. Twisted figures in sodden clothing mingled with the remains of houses, boats and goods from the warehouses. The wave had struck its victims down indiscriminately and the three Romans stepped over the corpses of old and young alike. Cato felt a stab of pity as he saw a young woman on her side, an infant still strapped to her chest by a sling, both of them quite dead. He stopped a moment to stare down at the bodies.

Macro paused at his side. 'Poor devils. Didn't stand a chance.'

Cato nodded silently.

His companion looked up and surveyed the beach and the ruins of the port.' By tomorrow this place is going to start smelling a bit ripe. The bodies will have to be dealt with.'

'Dealt with?' Sempronius cocked an eyebrow.

'Yes, sir. It ain't the smell that worries me. It's the sickness that follows death on this scale. I've seen it at work after a siege. Small town in southern Germany, many years back, soon after I joined the Eagles. The defenders had just left the dead where they had fallen and the weather was hot. Baking hot. Anyway, by the time the survivors surrendered, the air inside was higher than a kite. The place was a den of pestilence.'

'What did you do?' asked Sempronius.

'Nothing we could do. The legate ordered the survivors to stay inside the walls and then had the gate closed up. Couldn't afford the sickness spreading to our troops. After a month there was only a handful of the townspeople still alive, and most of them were too sick to be worth anything as slaves. If they'd only disposed of the bodies properly, then many more would have lived.'

'I see. Let's hope that whoever is still in charge of the port knows what to do then.'

Macro clicked his tongue. 'It'll be a bastard of a job, sir.'

'Not our problem.' Sempronius shrugged.' Come on.'

They continued along the shoreline until they reached the remains of a watchtower that had guarded the entrance to the port.

The blocks of stone still stood, as high as a man, but above that the timber posts and platform had gone. So had the gate, and the walls had given way under the pressure of the sea water bursting over Matala. Beyond the barely discernible line of the wall, the port was a mass of rubble, timber and tiles, with no sense of the lines of the neat grid of streets that had once thronged with the inhabitants of the town. Now a handful of figures stumbled about the ruins, or sat and stared abjectly into the distance.

The three Romans paused at the edge of Matala, shocked by the scene in front of them. Macro took a deep breath.

'No easy way through that lot. Better to work around the edge and see what the situation is further inland.' He gestured up the slope. The cliffs on either side of the bay gave way to steep-sided hills that flanked the town, narrowing into a defile that bent round, out of sight, as it led away from the coast.

They set off again, a short distance from the shattered remains of the wall. The slopes had been stripped of much of the shrubs and trees that had grown there and now they were covered by the same dismal tide of debris and dead people and animals that the three men had witnessed on the beach. They passed the remains of a small cargo ship that had been carried up on the wave, before it struck a large boulder and smashed to pieces, leaving only the ribs and some timbers still caught around the rock. Cato could not help being awed by the sight. The power of the wave was as terrible and mighty as the wrath of any of the gods.

As they reached the defile, Cato and the others found that the easiest path was to cross the remains of the wall and pick their way warily across the ruins. A small gang of young men was busy pulling valuables out of a ruined house that must have belonged to one of the port's wealthier families. A handful of busts had been extracted and discarded, and the looters were busy removing silver plates and small chests of personal effects. They stopped their work and looked up warily as the three Romans passed by. Macro's hand went casually to his sword hilt.

'Ignore them, ' Cato muttered. 'We can't deal with that now.'

'Pity.' Macro sniffed, and let his hand drop back to his side.

They passed on by without exchanging a word. On the far side of the defile, the ground opened out into a wide plain, and here the damage caused by the wave gave way to the effects of the earthquake that had shaken the island to its roots. There was no debris washed up from the port. Instead most of the houses had just collapsed, on top of those inside. Others were partially damaged and a few seemed to have suffered no damage at all. It was the same for the larger buildings. Some of the temples were little more than piles of rubble surrounded by broken columns that now looked like bad teeth.

Others were intact, standing defiantly above the ruins. There were far more people visible here than down in the port. Hundreds were picking over the rubble, rescuing what they could from their homes, or liberating the possessions of the houses of the dead. Little clumps of humanity lay scattered across the slopes of the hill, and on the plain, a short distance from the city. Thin tendrils of smoke drifted up from small fires that some of the survivors had lit to warm themselves through the night.

On a large mass of rock stood the town's acropolis, relatively untouched by the disaster. The walls still stood, although one of the squat towers had collapsed down the small cliff on to the town below, flattening several houses. A squad of soldiers stood guard at the end of the ramp leading to the gates of the acropolis, and beyond the walls they could see that the main administration building was still standing.

'That looks like our best bet, ' said Cato. 'We should head up there.'

Sempronius nodded and led the way down the main thoroughfare that stretched through the town towards the acropolis. Once, the street had been fifteen paces across, but now the sides had been buried and only a thin path through the rubble remained. They reached the ramp and started up the incline towards the gates. The sentries immediately stirred and moved to bar their path. Macro eyed them coolly. The men carried the oval shields of auxiliary troops, but they looked nervous and out of condition. Their leader, an optio, stepped forward and raised his hand.

'That's close enough. Who are you, and what's your business?'

Sempronius cleared his throat and stiffened his posture. 'I am Caius Sempronius, senator of Rome. These are my companions, Centurions Macro and Cato. We must see the senior official in the town. At once.'

The optio cast his eye over the three men before him. Certainly the man who claimed to be an aristocrat had the right bearing for such a rank, and the shorter of the other two men was scarred and burly enough to be a soldier. But the other was thin and young, and did not exude any obvious authority. Besides their army pattern swords, there was no other pro of of the first man's claims. The three wore simple tunics and their skin was grimy and their chins stubbled.

'Senator, you say?'The optio licked his lips nervously. 'Forgive me for saying so, sir, but can you prove it?'

'Prove it?' Sempronius frowned and thrust out his hand to show the gold senatorial ring that had been passed down to him from his father. 'There! Good enough?'

'Well, I suppose...' the optio answered cautiously. 'Is there anything else?'

'What do you want?' Sempronius answered irritably.' The ring is enough. Now, let us in and have some one take me to whoever is in command here. Before I have you placed on a charge for insubordination.'

The optio stood to attention and saluted. 'Yes, sir. Open the gate!'

Two of his men sprang towards the heavy wooden timbers and thrust them back. With a groan the door swung open. The optio detailed four of his men to stay on guard and then ushered the senator and the two centurions inside the acropohs. Beyond the gate there was a small courtyard, on either side of which stretched store-houses, and ahead of them lay a basilica. Some of the tiles had fallen off and the roof had collapsed at one end. Otherwise the building was intact. More auxiliary troops squatted in the shade of the walls of the acropolis and some watched curiously as the optio and four of his men escorted the Romans across to the entrance of the basilica.

'Seems you've been lucky' said Macro.' Not too much damage up here.'

'Yes, sir.' The optio glanced round. 'But many of the lads were down in the town when the tremor struck. And after that, the wave.

Still can't account for over half of the cohort.'

'Cohort? Which cohort is that?'

'Twelfth Hispania, sir.'

'Garrison troops?'

'For the last fifteen years, ' the optio conceded. 'Before that the unit was on the Danuvius frontier. Before my time, though.'

'I see.' Macro nodded. 'And who is the commander here?'

'Prefect Lucius Calpurnius, but he's up at Gortyna, the province's capital, along with the rest of the quality. He left Centurion Portillus in charge while he was gone.'

They entered the basilica, passing empty offices, and crossed the main hall to the suite of rooms on the far side. The optio paused outside an open door and rapped on the frame.

'Come!' a voice called out wearily.

The optio indicated to his men to remain outside and led Sempronius and his companions into the prefect's office. It was a large room with shuttered windows that looked out over the town towards the sea. Normally it would have been a fine view indeed, Cato reflected, but today the windows provided a panorama of destruction and suffering. In front of the windows, seated at a desk, was a thickset man in a red military tunic. He was completely bald and his features were heavily wrinkled. He squinted towards his visitors.

'Yes? Oh, it's you, Optio. Who are these men?'

'They approached the main gate, sir.' The optio indicated Sempronius. 'This gentleman claims to be a Roman senator, Caius Sempronius. He says the others are centurions.'

'I see.' Portillus squinted again, then rose from the chair and strode up to his guests, where he could examine them more closely. 'So then, sir, might I ask what you are doing here in Matala?'

'Certainly, ' Sempronius replied patiently. 'We were on a ship bound for Rome. Yesterday evening we were struck by a giant wave, just off the coast of Crete.'

'Where did the ship sail from?' Portillus interrupted. 'What port?'

'Caesarea, on the Syrian coast, ' Sempronius said at once.

'Can the ship's captain verify this?'

'The ship's captain was swept away by the wave. But you can ask the first mate, if you feel you need to.'

'I may do that. Later.' Portillus eyed them suspiciously for a moment. 'I take it you have seen what the wave did to us here in Matala. Which rather begs the question, if it was powerful enough to destroy a town, then how did a simple ship manage to survive?'

We bloody well nearly didn't!' Macro interrupted and then glared at Portillus. 'Still, youseem to have come out of it untouched. Care to explain that, eh? Sitting pretty up here while everything goes to shit down there in what's left of the town.'

Sempronius laid his hand on Macro s shoulder. 'That's enough. Centurion Portillus is right to be careful. There are bound to be plenty of people roaming the island in the days to come. They could claim to be anybody. All I have on my person to identify me is my senatorial ring. See here.' He raised his hand for Portillus to examine closely.

Portillus scratched his chin for a moment. 'All right then, let's agree for the moment that you are who you say you are. What are you doing here?'

'It was the nearest port we could make for after we had repaired the damage as best we could, ' Sempronius explained. 'We had hoped to have the ship made seaworthy again, or at least take passage in another and continue our voyage. But now, having seen what's left of Matala, well, it's clear that we will be stuck here until another ship arrives. In which case we will need accommodation while we wait. I hoped to ask your commander for help, but it seems that he is away at the moment.'

'That's right. He went to the governor's palace at Gortyna for the annual banquet. The prefect and all the local worthies. As soon as the earthquake and the wave hit us, I sent him a report. He should be back to take charge at any time.'

'How far away is Gortyna?' Cato asked.

'Fifteen miles or so.'

'And the prefect has not returned yet, nor sent a reply?'

'No. Not yet.'

Macro took a deep breath to calm his growing sense of frustration. 'And what have you done in the meantime?'

'Done?'

'To help the people down there.' Macro jerked his thumb in the direction of the window. 'To help rescue those trapped in the ruins, to treat the injured and organise food and water for the survivors, and to restore order. Well?'

Portillus's brow creased into a frown. 'I have done all that is necessary to make sure the men of my cohort were seen to first, and to make them ready to carry out whatever orders the prefect gives them the moment he returns from Gortyna. That's what I've done.'

'Bullshit!' Macro growled. 'Bloody jobsworth. You and your men are sitting on your arses while the people down there need you. It is your duty to keep the peace. There's bugger all else for you to do on a garrison posting.'

Sempronius coughed. 'Macro. I'm sure that Centurion Portillus and his men will do what's needed the moment his prefect returns.'

'Assuming he does return, ' Cato added.

The others turned to look at him.

Portillus raised his eyebrows. 'Why wouldn't he return?'

'When exactly did you send the message to him?'

'Last night.'

'Then he has had time to respond or return. So why haven't you heard from him?'

'I don't know!' Portillus flapped an open hand.' Could be any reason. Perhaps he is needed in Gortyna.'

'Perhaps, ' Cato conceded.' Then again, if what has happened here in Matala is anything to go by, surely Gortyna will have been hit hard as well.'

As Portillus struggled to come to terms with the implications of Cato's words, the sound of a horse's hooves clattering across the courtyard echoed faintly through the basilica. Macro turned towards the sound and went to the door. A cloaked figure came running through the entrance and across the hall, making straight for the prefect's office.

'Seems that we may be about to find out what's happened at Gortyna, ' Macro said quietly.

A moment later the new arrival was standing in front of the three officers and the senator, struggling for breath. His cloak and face were grimy with dust from a hard ride. He made an effort to stand up straight and salute before making his report.

'Is this the man you sent to Gortyna?' asked Sempronius.

Portillus nodded as he faced the man.' Did you find the prefect?'

'Yes, sir. That is, I saw him.'

'Saw him? What do you mean? Speak sense, man!'

'I saw his body, sir. The prefect's dead. So is nearly every other official in the province, sir.'

'Dead?' Portillus shook his head.' How?'

'They were all in the banquet hall at the governor's palace when the earthquake struck. The roof collapsed on top of them. The survivors on the governor's staff have been pulling the bodies out all day, sir. There's only a handful left alive. Some of them won't live long.'

'I don't believe it, ' Portillus mumbled. 'It's not possible.'

Cato edged closer to the messenger. 'What about the governor? Is he dead?'

'No. At least not when I left Gortyna, sir. He was hurt bad, like.

His legs have been crushed. He sent me back here to report to Centurion Portillus.'

'Me?'

'Yes, sir. You are the senior Roman official in Matala. He's ordered you to take charge here.'

'Me?' Portillus's eyes widened with shock, and not a little anxiety.

'There has to be some one else.'

'No, sir.'

'I... I need to think.' Portillus backed away and then turned to gaze out of the window. 'I need time to make a plan. Time to restore order. I...'

He fell silent and his shoulders slumped. Macro leaned towards Cato and Sempronius as he muttered, ' Now that is not what I would call a safe pair of hands.'

'You're right, ' Sempronius replied. 'We have to do something. Right now.'

CHAPTER FIVE

Senator Sempronius cleared his throat and took a step towards the prefect's desk. 'Centurion Portillus!'

The officer turned quickly at the tone of command in the senator's voice.

'Centurion Portillus, I am assuming the authority of the governor for the present emergency. I will also take command of all military and naval forces present in Crete, starting with this cohort. Do you understand?'

Portillus looked shocked, as did the others in the room. After a moment he swallowed and clasped his hands. 'But sir, the governor has appointed me, as you just heard.'

'The governor was acting on the basis that you were the senior surviving official. He could hot have known that I, or these other officers, were present on the island. Since they are legionary centurions they outrank you, and as a senator I carry the authority of the senate with my rank. I would be the most suitable replacement for Governor Hirtius and I intend to take command. Is that clear?'

Portillus nodded and then bit his lip.

'Do you have a problem with my decision?'

'Well, yes, sir. There's the question of protocol.'

'Protocol?' Macro grumbled. 'What are you talking about?'

'Strictly speaking, the senator needs the permission of the emperor to enter a province, ' Portillus continued nervously.

'What?' Macro raised his voice. 'What the hell are you talking about? Our bloody ship is leaking like a sieve. Where else could we go? Or do you think we should have nipped back to Rome first to get the emperor's nod that it's all right for us to set foot on this bloody island?'

'That's the regulations, sir.'

'Bollocks!' Macro spat back. 'Bollocks to regulations, you fool.'

Sempronius intervened. 'Centurion Portillus is right to raise the issue However, given the circumstances – the extraordinary circumstances – I think the normal rules have to be ignored. Besides, ' he turned back to Portillus, 'I am sure that you would be content to pass the responsibility for the cohort on to a more senior official. Is that not so?'

Portillus bowed his head.' Of course, sir. As you wish.' He glanced towards the messenger still standing near the door, and then continued in a very deliberate tone. 'Naturally, I will want it on record that you insist on taking command, and that you assume full responsibility for your actions, sir.'

'As you wish, you'll have that in writing, ' Sempronius replied, struggling to keep the contempt from his voice. 'So then, I am now in charge. Agreed?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Then the first priority is to restore order here in Matala and help the survivors.' The senator looked towards Cato and Macro and thought for a moment before he made a decision. 'Centurion Macro, you are to assume control here in Matala. I authorise you to do whatever is necessary to help the local people. You are to commandeer any remaining food stocks and existing shelter. Priority is to be given to rescuing those still trapped in the rubble and the injured. There is to be no looting, such as we saw on the way here. Use whatever force is necessary to prevent such lawlessness. Is that understood?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Good. Now then, Centurion Cato, you and I must head for Gortyna at once. We have to see what's left of the province's administration. That's where we need to be in order to regain control of Crete and deal with this chaos.'

Cato nodded. 'Yes, sir. What about the ship, and those still on board?'

Sempronius smiled. 'Julia is safe where she is for now.'

'But she would be safer if she was brought here, sir.'

'Of course. Centurion Macro will take care of it.'

Macro patted his friend on the shoulder. 'Trust me.'

'And you might as well take charge of the crew and passengers,' Sempronius continued. 'Add them to the cohort. They may not be soldiers, but they're good men. They've more than proved that they can be useful in a crisis.'

'I'll see to it.'

'Sailors?' Centurion Portillus shook his head. 'In the Twelfth Hispania? The lads'll not stand for it, sir.'

'They'll stand for whatever I tell them to, ' Macro said firmly. 'And from what I've seen so far, they'll be a welcome addition to the slackers lounging around the acropolis. Now then, Portillus, I want all the men and officers assembled for parade. Time for them to meet their new commander.'

As Portillus hurried off to carry out his orders, Sempronius clasped Macro's hand.' Good luck, Centurion. Do what you can. If you need to report anything, send word to me at Gortyna.'

'Yes, sir. How long do you intend staying there?'

Sempronius thought for a moment and then shrugged. 'As long as it takes, I suppose. The gods only know what we will find there, and what the situation is across the rest of the province. Once I've assessed the situation I will send word to you here in Matala.'

The senator and Cato took some cloaks from the prefect's quarters to keep them warm during the night's ride to Gortyna, then chose two of the best horses from the prefect's stable in the corner of the acropolis's courtyard and mounted up. As they clopped out of the gate, the men of the cohort were already shambling into formation, under Macro's disapproving glare as he stood in the shade of the basilica's colonnade. Cato twisted in the saddle as they rode past.

'See you soon, Macro.'

'Take care, Cato. I've a feeling we're in for a bastard time of it.'

Sempronius clicked his tongue and urged his horse into a trot as they approached the gate and then rode down the ramp towards the main street of the town, lined with ruins. As they passed through the remains of the gate, Cato took a last look towards the sea. Although he could not see the side of the bay where the Horuswas beached, he felt his heart stir with anxiety for Julia's safety.

Sempronius noticed the expression on the young officer's face and smiled.' Rest easy, Cato. No harm will come to her while she's in Macro's care.'

43

Cato forced himself to smile back. 'I know. I pity any man who would try and cross him.'

They rode away from the city following the Gortyna road over rolling hills, where they passed further scenes of destruction caused by the earthquake. Many more villas, farms and roadside shrines had been toppled and were now no more than heaps of bricks, tiles and timber. The survivors had dragged out the injured and some of the bodies, which lay in makeshift shrouds waiting for burial or cremation. The living stared at the passing horsemen with gaunt expressions of horror and numbed shock, and Cato felt guilty as he followed Sempronius and tried to ignore the suffering that stretched out mile after mile along the road to Gortyna.

As dusk settled, Sempronius gave the order to stop and rest the horses at the edge of a small village. Not one house had survived and there was a dreadful stillness in the gathering gloom as figures huddled in whatever shelter they could find for the night. There were no cries of grief, and no moans from the wounded. The only sound was a light sobbing from the remains of a small farm close by. Cato tethered his horse to the stump of a tree and made his way over towards the source of the crying.

'Cato, ' Sempronius called softly. 'Don't go far.'

Cato nodded and continued forward cautiously. In the gloom he could make out the line of a fallen wall and tiles scattered across the ground. The sound came more clearly. Crouching down close to the blocks of stone that made up the wall, he saw a flicker of movement beneath some of the tiles close by. He leaned forward and carefully removed the nearest tile. There was a startled cry, and Cato saw the top half of a small child, no more than two years old, lying on its back. The child was naked and the puffy pale flesh was smeared with grime and blood. The tile had struck its head, gouging. a patch of scalp away, and a tacky black mass of dried blood and matted hair covered one side. The child's eyes were open, and wide blue eyes gazed intently at Cato as the whimpering continued.

'You're all right, ' Cato said gently. 'Shhh, you're all right.'

He cleared the debris away from the exposed half of the child's body and then saw that a large slab of stone lay just below the waist, covering the legs. He took hold of the edges of the stone and eased it up now able to see that the child was male. As the pressure came off the boy's pelvis and legs he screamed, a shrill, piercing cry of agony. Cato flung the stone aside and took the boy's hand.

'There, it's gone. Hush now. Shhh.' He glanced down, and at once a wave of nausea threatened to overwhelm him. The stone had crushed the boy from the waist down, shattering bones and laying open the delicate flesh. The thin shafts of the shin bones spiked out from the skin where the legs had been violently broken.

The boy let out a scream and suddenly started shuddering violently. Cato hurriedly undid the clasp of his cloak and covered the child, tucking one end under his head to act as a pillow. All the time the boy's tiny hand clasped Cato's fingers with surprising strength, until the screaming died away and he lay, staring at Cato, shuddering as he drew breaths in ragged gasps. There was a crunch of boots on the rubble close by and Cato glanced up to see Sempronius, who had come to investigate the screaming.

'What's that you have there?'

'A boy' Cato shuffled aside so that the senator could see.' He was caught by this wall when it fell.'

'How is he?'

Cato swallowed the bitter taste in his mouth and felt his throat contract. He cleared it harshly before he could reply. 'His legs are broken.'

'I see... Will he live?'

For a moment Cato was silent. He wanted to say that the boy would live and could be saved. But it was a lie. Even if, by some miracle, he survived, he would spend the rest of his days as a cripple.

No one had come to rescue him and Cato glanced at the ruins of the house beyond the fallen wall, where no doubt the rest of his family lay buried under the rubble. He looked down at the child, and forced himself to smile as he quietly replied to the senator.

'I doubt he will survive another night if we leave him here, sir. It's a miracle he's still alive. He might live, if we can find some one to take care of him. The surgeon of the Twelfth Hispania might save him, but only at the cost of his legs.'

Sempronius glanced at Cato with narrowed eyes and then said deliberately, 'Too bad we can't take him back to Matala.'

45

'Why not? It's only two hours down the road.'

'Two hours there, two hours back, more like three once we start riding in the dark. I'm sorry, Cato, but we can't afford to return to Matala. We have to press on.'