The Legion

by Simon Scarrow

  ‘No surprises there.’

  ‘Even so, the crocodiles take the odd peasant, or their mules.’

  ‘They don’t hunt them?’

  Rufus smiled thinly. ‘Who would want to? Besides, they’re sacred to the natives.’

  ‘Sacred?’

  Rufus looked surprised. ‘You’ve been aboard the Sobek for two months and you haven’t worked that out, sir?’

  ‘What?’ Cato responded irritably.

  ‘Sobek is the name of their crocodile god, sir.’

  Cato frowned, cross with himself not to have made the connection. ‘Well, if any of them get that close to me again, I may be up for a little sacrilege.’

  ‘I doubt you’d get the chance, sir. They might look cumbersome, but I assure you they can outrun a man on land and outswim him in the water. Best stay clear of them, sir. Them and the snakes.’

  ‘Snakes? Venomous snakes, I take it.’

  ‘Deadly. The cobras particularly, sir. Though they prefer drier ground.’

  ‘That’s a small comfort. We have to go.’ Cato turned to the other men and saw that several of them were still staring nervously in the direction of the fading rustling and splashing. ‘The column will advance!’

  He turned, lifted his shield with a grunt and set off again, warily glancing from side to side as he waded through the reeds. The thought of encountering another crocodile unnerved him, but Cato knew that they must press on. Ajax must be caught, whatever the cost. Cato thrust the thought to the forefront of his mind. That was all that mattered. He must lead by example and he forced himself on, pressing forward through the broken reeds, no matter what lurked there.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The column trudged on through the swamp as the sun rose higher into the sky and caught the soldiers in its full glare. The air, trapped and still, grew hotter by the hour and Cato’s mouth began to dry out and then a raging thirst burned in his throat. On his own he would have taken a drink from his canteen by now, but he was waiting for Rufus to give the order to his men first. It would not do to be seen to be weaker than the centurion in the eyes of the other men. So he endured the thirst for a while longer, and then began to wonder if Rufus was refusing to call a halt and allow the men to drink for precisely the same reason. Cato stole a glance back over his shoulder. Rufus was ten feet or so behind him, sweating freely, his lined face gleaming with perspiration, but his expression was fixed and revealed nothing of his thoughts.

  At noon the reeds gave way to a small island covered in long grass and Cato took the chance to let the men rest. As they emerged from the water on to solid ground, Cato strode forward a few more paces and lowered his shield, leaning to rest his arms on the rim as he caught his breath. One by one the legionaries emerged from the reeds, staggered up and slumped down in the grass either side of the trail.

  ‘Reckon the men could use some water, sir,’ Rufus rasped as he wiped his brow with the back of his forearm. ‘I know I could.’

  ‘All right.’ Cato nodded. ‘Let ’em drink. But mind they take no more than a mouthful.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  As the men took their meagre refreshment, under the watchful eyes of Rufus, Cato lifted his canteen and allowed himself a small amount, which he swilled slowly around his mouth before swallowing. Then he put the canteen away and paced up to the highest point on the island to search for any sign of life to the south, the direction Ajax seemed to have veered towards during the morning. There was a small clump of date palms nearby, and a handful of fallen trunks amid a tangle of old brown fronds. Cato made his way across to them and stepped up on to one of the trunks. From his vantage point he could see an unbroken sprawl of reeds interspersed with dense clumps of trees and undergrowth stretching out in front of him. But no sign of any movement. The stillness depressed him. He had hoped to have marched quickly enough to have caught up with Ajax and his men. Cato was also worried. There had been no word from the section Rufus had sent forward to stay in contact with the enemy. They might be far ahead, or they could have lost their way. Cato turned round to look back on their tracks. Even though he calculated that they had come no more than five miles over the difficult ground, there was no sign of life. The horizon was clear and nothing moved amid the reeds they had passed through.

  After another brief look ahead, Cato returned to the column and wearily picked up his shield. ‘The rest is over, Centurion. Get the men back on their feet.’

  A brief look of surprise flitted across Rufus’s face before he nodded and faced his men, hands on hips. ‘Up you get, ladies!’

  There was a chorus of groans and muttered growls of complaint before Rufus cleared his throat and bellowed at them. ‘Silence! I gave you a bloody order. Get up. It’s time for you to earn your pay. This is what the Emperor’s silver is for, and he pays you handsomely. So shut your mouths and pick up your kit, damn you!’

  The men rose stiffly and made ready to continue the march. Rufus turned to Cato. ‘At your command, sir.’

  ‘Thank you. Forward then.’

  Rufus raised his arm and swept it towards the broken trail. ‘Column! Forwards!’

  With Cato in the lead once more, they trudged through the tall grass to the far side of the island and back into the still, murky waters surrounding the beds of reeds. The afternoon was the hottest part of the day and the heat beat down on the extended line of soldiers and some dipped their felt helmet liners into the water before cramming them over their heads to provide some comfort from the baking temperature. Towards the middle of the afternoon they came across another body, between the twisting roots of a tree. As before, he bore wounds from the morning’s fight and had been despatched by a sword thrust. Cato examined him briefly before moving on.

  There was still no word from the leading section and there was no longer any doubt in his mind that they had run into trouble or got themselves lost. Cato ordered another brief stop to drink some water and for the men to catch their breath while he talked quietly with the centurion.

  ‘Something’s wrong. Your men should have sent back a report long before now.’

  ‘I know, sir.’ Rufus untied his neck cloth and dabbed his face. ‘Shall I send someone ahead of the column to try and find them?’

  Cato considered the suggestion for a moment. ‘No. There’s no point in risking any more men. If they are still following Ajax, then they’ll stop for the night when he does. We’ll hear from them then. That’s my guess.’

  ‘And if we don’t?’

  ‘Then we’ll just keep following this path until we run into them, or Ajax and his men. That’s all.’

  ‘And what of Centurion Macro, sir?’

  ‘Macro will catch up with us in good time. We can depend on that at least.’ Cato smiled. ‘He wouldn’t miss a good fight.’ The smiled faded. ‘In this case he wants to be in on the kill more than any other man alive . . . except myself.’

  Rufus nodded. He had fought in Crete and knew the tale of Macro’s captivity, and that of Julia, the prefect’s wife-to-be. ‘Then perhaps we should camp early, and give Macro the chance to join forces with us.’

  Cato thought it over, then shook his head. ‘Each time we stop and rest, the men are slower to continue the march. Best to wait until the full day is done before calling a halt.’ He moistened his lips. ‘We go on.’

  Even though the sun began to descend from its zenith, the stifling heat did not seem to abate as the afternoon crept by. The column struck on, burdened by the cumbersome weight of their shields and tormented by thirst. As the sun slipped into the haze that banded the horizon, the glare mercifully subsided and the reeds began to shade the Roman soldiers, panting from the day’s exertions. Cato had never known such exhaustion before. Even when he first joined the legion and endured days of route marches, rising at first light, marching in full kit for sixteen miles before downing packs to construct the camp defences and then putting up tents, making cooking fires and only then being allowed to rest, until his turn came at sentry duty. Tha
t had been tiring enough, he recalled, but it had been in the temperate climate of the northern frontier in Germania. Here, the heat, stench, insects and the roots and obstacles under the water that threatened to trip up the unwary all combined intolerably and sapped Cato’s strength. Only his will to continue kept him moving forward, step by step.

  The shadows lengthened as the column emerged once more from the reeds on to solid ground, and now the broken trail joined an established path, which forked a short distance further on. Cato paused and looked both ways.

  ‘What do you think, sir?’ asked Rufus, breathing heavily. ‘Left or right?’

  Cato wiped the sweat from his eyes and considered the choice. ‘Left seems to head to the north, towards the coast. If I were Ajax I would head south, away from the sea, and our warships. We’ll go right.’

  He lowered his shield and strode across the path to a clump of palm trees and pulled out a handful of dead fronds from the ground beneath them. He took out his dagger and quickly stripped the leaves away and then laid the dry grey stems out in an arrow to indicate the way he had decided to head.

  ‘That’s for Macro,’ he announced, then picked up his shield and led the column to the right, towards the heart of the delta. Although the path was narrow and the tall grass and palms closed in on it from time to time, it was a welcome change from the murky stench of the swamp. They had marched a mile or so along the track when Cato saw the outline of a handful of buildings above the grass, no more than a quarter of a mile ahead. He turned to Rufus and spoke softly as he pointed them out.

  ‘First sign of life all day.’

  ‘Perhaps the locals will have seen something, sir.’

  ‘I hope so.’

  Cato was still concerned over the missing section. If they were not lost in the swamp then it was possible that they had fallen in with Ajax and his men. If that had happened, they would have stood little chance. As they approached the buildings, Cato could see that there was perhaps a score of them, loosely spread along a clear thoroughfare. They should be close enough now to detect signs of life, but there was no sound, save the bleating of a few goats, and no sign of any movement. He felt uneasy as the path turned a corner and opened out a short distance from the nearest buildings. He halted the column. The structures were typical of the region: built from mud bricks and covered with light trestles supporting palm leaves that provided shade yet allowed the air to move freely and keep the interiors from becoming unbearably hot. Cato stared along the length of the small village, then he cleared his throat.

  ‘Helmets on, swords out,’ he ordered. ‘Tell the men to close ranks. Quietly though.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Rufus nodded and made his way down the line to pass on the instructions. The tired legionaries hurriedly pulled on their helmets and fastened the chinstraps before drawing their swords and raising their shields. Rufus returned to Cato’s side.

  ‘They’re ready, sir.’

  ‘Good.’ Cato settled his helmet on his head and took a deep breath. ‘Come on.’

  They paced forward, eyes and ears straining as they moved between the first buildings. There was little sign of life. Only a thin dog stirred, lifting its head to watch them for a moment before raising a leg to scratch its neck and then lying back down and panting. Cato paused to look inside the door of one of the nearest buildings but it was empty. The same was true of the next, and they continued along the route towards the centre of the village. Then Rufus growled. ‘There, sir, to the left, by the door.’

  Cato looked in the direction indicated and saw the dark stain across the rough bricks. Blood.

  ‘Looks like Ajax passed this way.’

  Rufus approached the door and transferred his sword to the other hand as he examined the stain. ‘If he did, then it was at least an hour ago. The blood’s dry. The question is, where are the bodies?’

  ‘Perhaps most of them ran off when Ajax appeared.’

  ‘I hope so, sir.’ Rufus took his sword in hand again and looked round. The village was quiet, except for a loud drone of insects and then Cato realised that it came from a short distance ahead where a shoulder-high mud-brick wall had been built to hold the villagers’ livestock. He swallowed nervously as he made his way over to the pen and looked over the wall. The interior lay in gloomy shadows now that the sun was low on the horizon. Heaped inside the pen lay the bodies of the villagers. Old, young, men and women - none had been spared.

  ‘What did they do that for?’ asked Rufus as he joined Cato. ‘If they needed food then why not just take it and let these people live?’

  ‘Ajax is continuing to make his point,’ Cato replied grimly. ‘He wants the people of the province to know that we cannot protect them. Word of this will spread and the governor will be facing demands for soldiers to protect every village from Ajax and his renegades.’

  Rufus thought a moment and shook his head. ‘I’m not so sure, sir. It doesn’t feel right. This place is too isolated to serve such a purpose.’

  ‘Then why?’

  ‘To keep them quiet. To stop them giving us any intelligence on the number of Ajax’s men, their condition, and the direction they took when they left the village.’

  Cato reflected briefly and nodded. ‘He would do it for those reasons, sure enough.’

  ‘Sir!’ a voice called out and Cato and Rufus turned to see one of the legionaries beckoning to them from between two mule stables on the far side of the thoroughfare. ‘Over here!’

  They hurried over between the stables where a handful of mules stood staring at their empty mangers, and emerged into an open, dung-covered space. The bodies of the advance party lay sprawled on the ground where they had been dragged and dumped.

  ‘Shit,’ Rufus muttered. ‘That explains it.’

  Cato knelt down and examined the bodies more closely. ‘Arrow wounds. Looks like they were ambushed.’ As he spoke the words, he felt an icy fist clench round his heart. He looked up at Rufus sharply. ‘That’s why the villagers were killed.’

  Before the centurion could respond, there was a warning shout from the street running the length of the village, then a faint whirring sound and a cry of pain. The two officers rushed back between the stables, shields up as they looked round. One man was down on the ground, propped up on an elbow as he stared at the shaft of an arrow protruding from his breast. Another was staggering around as he tried to grasp the arrow that had struck him in the back, smashing through his shoulder blade. More arrows whirred through the air and Cato saw another man struck in the sword arm, pinning it to his side.

  He filled his lungs and bellowed. ‘AMBUSH! Shields up. Legionaries! On me!’

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  As Rufus and his men closed ranks and formed a slender ellipse of shields, Cato saw the enemy. Several figures had run out from cover and stood at the far end of the village, aiming their arrows at the Romans. Glancing back, Cato saw more men blocking the opening through which they had entered the village. Ajax had them caught in a crossfire. Cato saw at once that he and his men could easily cut their way out of the street at either end. Then he noticed more figures flitting between the huts on either side. A moment later a bright flame flared up from a house as the palm thatch was set on fire. More flames flickered into life, clearly illuminating the Romans caught between the buildings. There was a grunt as another man was hit in the shoulder, close to Cato, then a sharp thud and he felt the sting of a splinter on his neck as an arrow tip punched through his shield.

  ‘We have to get out of here!’ Rufus gestured back the way they had come.

  ‘No. We’ve got what we wanted, a chance to tackle Ajax.’ Cato thought quickly. ‘Take half the men and go back to the entrance of the village. Deal with the archers and then fight your way back along the village, clearing the houses.’

  ‘What about you, sir?’

  ‘I’ll take the rest and seize the other end.’ Before Rufus could oppose the division of the force, Cato nudged him with his shield and barked, ‘Go!’

&nb
sp; ‘Last three sections!’ Rufus bellowed above the sharp crackle of the flames. ‘On me!’

  The centurion backed away carefully, picked up his men and the column split into two as the rear half edged towards the entrance, presenting a wall of shields to their enemy. Cato tightened the grip on his sword handle and called out to the remaining men, ‘Follow me.’

  A score of men advanced with him, in close formation, into the steady hail of arrows from the end of the street. The shafts cracked against the shields but there was only one more casualty as they advanced towards the bowmen, an arrow smashing into the unprotected shin of a man on the left of the front rank. He stumbled to a halt and groaned as he squatted down behind his shield. One of his comrades moved to help him and Cato shouted.

  ‘Leave him! Stay in formation!’