‘In case you think his position weaker than your own,’ Rhampsinitus said, ‘he and his men do hold a bargaining counter.’
Dido’s eyes narrowed. ‘And just what do you mean by that?’
The Egyptian stepped aside, and gestured towards the guards grouped around the king. One of them was holding Amasis up, a blade to his throat.
Dido’s mind raced. ‘Your king is nothing but a cheap bandit,’ she said scornfully, peering at Amasis. The boy was still unconscious. ‘Why should I care about the lad?’ she added.
Rhampsinitus seemed shocked. ‘He’s one of your own!’ he said. ‘If one of my people was taken hostage by robbers…’
‘Robbers is about right.’
‘…I would do everything the gods permitted to ensure his safety,’ the Egyptian finished.
‘Thank you for your advice,’ Dido said. ‘Maybe I’m not so principled. Maybe the boy means nothing to me. And maybe he’s only a carcass. He shows no signs of life.’
Rhampsinitus seemed startled by this. ‘Let me speak with the king,’ he said, and withdrew.
Dido watched uneasily. The Egyptian hobbled across the temple to the group around King Gulussa and made a point of examining Amasis’ motionless form, rolling back eyelids, checking for a heartbeat. Dido surveyed the chamber as a whole. Most of the priests and courtiers had been moved outside by the guards, all except Rhampsinitus’ son Sarapion, who lingered anxiously by the arch.
Now only the king himself, the high priests and the guards remained. Osorkon’s body had been dragged away. Amasis hung in the arms of one guard. She almost felt as if she could afford to relax. Surreptitiously, she tested the ground at her feet for signs of a hatchway. All she needed was to find the secret passage and then she’d be out of here.
Leaving Amasis behind, if indeed he still lived. She bit her lip. Despite her protestations to the contrary, she had grown fond of the lad. And she had achieved nothing here; the most she could hope for was to rescue him. The others were dead, it seemed. And as for Tiro, surely he was dead too. Only one of them would survive. She believed in the gods implicitly: the diviner must be right. So Tiro was dead. And Amasis must be dead. Or would it be Amasis who would survive? She could see no way out of here for herself.
Rhampsinitus came hobbling back over.
‘As you can see, we have examined the boy. He is alive but comatose. The priests say he will recover if he is cared for adequately. Under these conditions, however, he is unlikely to survive…’ He paused uncertainly, looking back over his shoulder.
There was a commotion from beyond the temple arch. Dido looked up suspiciously. What new trick was this? A hubbub from outside, cheers and shouts of joy. What was happening now?
Warriors rushed into the sanctum. The king turned in anger from speaking with the high priest and barked at the newcomers. They halted, bowed low before him, and then gave a hurried message. The king’s face cleared. He lifted his hands in jubilation.
Dido watched in perplexity as the others shook hands, slapped each other on the backs, even danced. Rhampsinitus questioned one of the priests.
Then he came back, grinning again.
‘The pressure has eased for his highness,’ he said. ‘The army your friends raised has retreated.’
‘My friends?’ Dido was astounded. ‘What friends? Do you mean Tiro? It’s his army?’
‘He fled into the hills and raised an army of troglodytes, it seems,’ the Egyptian said with a laugh. ‘But now he is in retreat.’
Dido lurched suddenly, as the ground beneath her seemed to shake. She staggered backwards, grabbed hold of the statue for support. Was it an earthquake?
Rhampsinitus stared at her in bafflement, as if he suspected some trick. The temple was still, the only noise coming from the jubilant Garamantes.
Again the floor shook. Now a flagstone began to lift. A figure appeared in the gap. It climbed out, followed by others.
Dido cried out in sudden joy.
—30—
Temple of Tanit, Garama, Phazania, 22nd December 124 AD
Flaminius took in the scene at a glance. Flames leapt up from the trench that took up much of the temple floor. Behind him towered the statue of Tanit, two spears jutting from her breast, her empty arms held akimbo. Beyond the crackling fire pit the temple was crowded with priests and warriors.
Dido crouched at the foot of the goddess, gazing in wonder at him and his troglodytes as they issued forth.
‘Where did you spring from?’ she asked in amazement.
‘Never mind now,’ said Flaminius. ‘We’ve come for you. Are you the only one?’
‘Demetrius is dead…’ she began.
‘I know that,’ he said, ‘I’ve just been getting acquainted with his mortal remains. What about Amasis? Osorkon? I know all about Menander and Claudius Mercator, don’t worry about them.’
‘Osorkon is dead,’ she said. ‘Amasis…’
He grabbed her. ‘Where is he?’
Silence fell over the temple, broken only by the crackle of flames. A troglodyte chattered something. Flaminius looked up.
Advancing towards them across the temple was a group of Garamantian guards. ‘Amasis is with the king,’ said Dido finally. ‘They say he lives.’
Flaminius saw, beyond the advancing guards, King Gulussa, urging them on. Beside him, Amasis was visible, in the custody of a priest, but looking around woozily.
The Roman turned to the troglodytes and led them to the statue of the goddess.
‘What are you doing?’ Dido shrieked. She ran forwards as Flaminius and the troglodytes began pushing it forwards.
‘Get out of the way,’ Flaminius said impatiently, still pushing.
The stone base of the image rumbled. As the first Garamantes reached the ledge the statue toppled forwards. Flames leapt up as if to greet it and it crashed down on the fire pit, effectively bridging it. Flaminius climbed up onto it, assegai in hand, and the troglodytes swarmed up behind him. Angry at this sacrilege, the Garamantes charged to meet the onrush of the troglodytes.
Two ancient enemies met in that temple, two tribes who had been opponents since the dawn of the ages. Assegais clashed, spears flashed in the firelight, bloody bodies fell. The goddess was down, but lives were sacrificed in that temple as they had never been before.
Leaping down from the end of the statue-bridge, Flaminius cut down two burly Garamantes with a single scything blow. More came against him. He shoulder barged one, stabbed another, kicked a third in the crotch so he fell writhing to the ground. Already he was halfway across the temple but the priests were flocking for the far entrance. The king ran with them, but one of them still held Amasis.
Halting, Flaminius seized a fallen spear from the ground. Hefting it briefly, he flung it like a javelin, straight across the gloomy chamber. It struck the running priest in the back and he fell, dropping Amasis as he did so. The boy rolled free and tried to rise but was kicked or trampled upon by the fleeing priests.
Flaminius fought his way through the throng. Guards came at him but he cut them down until at last he reached Amasis. Already the king had vanished down the steps, priests at his heels, while his guards fought and died, fell to the flint tipped spears of their hereditary foes. Flaminius lowered his assegai and stooped to hold a hand out to the confused lad, but as he did so another assegai flashed down out of the gloom. He dodged, but tripped over Amasis and fell sprawling. The Garamantian attacker lifted his assegai again.
Then a third blade smashed though his skull in an explosion of gore and he fell. Dido stepped forward, assegai in one hand, other outstretched to help Flaminius to his feet. Flaminius ignored her helping hand and rose to help Amasis to his feet.
‘What happened?’ Amasis asked. ‘What hit me?’
‘We hold the temple,’ she said, ‘but they’ll be back. Time we were leaving.’
Fallen Garamantes lay in twisted attitudes in sticky pools of blood. The flames of the fire pit licked around the blackening statue of
Tanit. On the other side of the pit, the hatchway still stood open.
A clatter of feet from the temple steps heralded the appearance of more Garamantian warriors. Flaminius shouted to the troglodytes and gestured for the hatchway.
As they retreated, the captain of the Garamantian guards shouted something in his own tongue and his warriors flooded into the temple.
Down stone hewn rungs Flaminius and the others went, following the troglodytes into the depths. At the other end they found a small room. A tunnel led off towards the front of the temple and Dido moved towards it, but Flaminius showed her where the troglodytes were heading. A narrow, low doorway stood uncovered one wall.
‘What is this room?’ she shouted.
‘A secret room of the priests,’ said Flaminius. ‘But it has its own secrets, known only to rebel factions among the warriors. It’ll take too long to explain. Go.’
She followed the troglodytes.
The journey out of the city was nightmarish. Blundering along half flooded channels in pitch darkness, running against a strong current with pursuing warriors behind them, it seemed to recede into scenes of endless horror in her mind. She had failed. Everything had gone wrong. Everyone had died but Flaminius and the boy. Now they were running like jerboas fleeing desert foxes through the shadows of an underworld.
After endless running they paused beneath a shaft of light. In its dim glow, she saw Flaminius’ face.
‘We’re past the walls now,’ he said. ‘Not far, and then there’s the well. We climb that and we’re free.’
‘Free?’ she panted. ‘We’ll never be free until we escape this country. If we ever do…’
Dido turned at the sound of fighting from further down the passage. Troglodytes appeared from the darkness, fighting a rear-guard manoeuvre against Garamantes.
Dido hefted an assegai she had taken from a fallen warrior in the temple. Flaminius pushed forwards, splashing to the aid of his fighters. At the head of the pursuers stood a huge Garamantian. He cut down one troglodyte then turned to make a cut at another. Flaminius sprang into the breach to meet his blow, and the ring of blade on blade echoed from the walls, cutting through the roar of the water.
Flaminius glared into the man’s frenzied eyes. Behind the Garamantian were more of his people. Roaring like a lion, the big Garamantian swung his sword, left, right, left. Flaminius brought his own assegai up to parry a blow but it was knocked from his hand into the water.
At the same time the Garamantian’s wild blow had been so strong his sword blade sank halfway into the rocky wall. Eyes wild, he tugged at it, desperate to sink it into Flaminius’ heart. Weaponless, Flaminius flung himself at the Garamantian, seizing him in a wrestler’s hold. They fought together, feet slipping in the rushing waters as warriors from either side struggled to get past them.
Flaminius stamped down on the Garamantian’s bare foot, heard the man grunt in pain, but then found himself seized round the throat by a massive hand. He smashed his clenched fist into the man’s ribs but they were shielded by muscle. Then he reached up and seized the man’s other arm, wrapped a leg round his opponent’s ankle. The man tightened his grip round Flaminius’ throat.
In the corner of the Roman’s sight something flashed in the light from the shaft above. The grasp tightened suddenly, Flaminius’ breath rattled from his mouth as his windpipe was crushed in the man’s grip. And then it was gone, the crushing grip relaxed, the hand fell away, the man himself fell with a splash into the water.
Gasping for breath, Flaminius turned to see Dido. She grinned at him, wiping her bloody blade, then lifted it again as another Garamantian bounded across the fallen body of his comrade, razor sharp spear thrusting towards them.
Flaminius lashed out with his foot, catching the man in the crotch. A low blow, it wouldn’t have got the approval of the arena crowd, but it did the job. The man fell sideways, striking his head on the side, then tumbling down on his dead comrade’s body, half blocking the narrow channel. The other Garamantes were shadows against the darkness, eyes glinting as they held back.
‘Back!’ shouted Dido. ‘Back down the tunnel!’
Amasis rose from where he had been crouching in confusion and waded desperately on. It wouldn’t be far until they reached the next wellhead and then they would be able to climb out. And then?
Flaminius was still debating this when they reached the next pool of light. The bucket still hung at the end of the rope. The Garamantes were still following in the distance. He drew his assegai and turned to face their direction, gesturing with his free hand to Dido and the troglodytes to climb up. As the first of the troglodytes began ascending the rope, Dido came to stand at Flaminius’ side, Amasis with her.
‘Get up there, lad,’ Flaminius said, gesturing at the rope.
‘But I want to stay behind and fight!’ the boy protested.
‘Up there!’ Flaminius shouted.
Upset, Amasis turned and began to climb up after the troglodyte. Even as he did, so the first of the Garamantes burst from the darkness. Seeing Amasis climbing up, he flung his spear.
Flaminius cut him down, but even as he did, Amasis dropped from the rope, spear piercing him, and fell without a cry into the water.
Flaminius shouted at Dido.
‘Get him over your back. Tell the troglodytes to haul you up after them. Then throw the rope back down for me. If I don’t come up straightaway, I’m probably dead.’
Dido did as he bade. Communicating with the troglodytes was not easy, but they seemed to understand what she meant. The last of them reached the top. With Amasis over her back, she grabbed the rope in one hand, put her foot in the bucket and waited for the troglodytes.
Slowly she ascended, looking back down. Below, Flaminius waited in the shadows, assegai in hand, for the Garamantes. As she was lifted up through the roof and into the well shaft, the enemy warriors burst out of the darkness and Flaminius was forced backwards, assegai swinging. Then she was hauled upwards and the Roman vanished from sight.
As the clash of blade on blade echoed up the shaft, she reached the top. Two troglodytes took her burden from her and helped her climb over the coping stones. Beyond was a grove of trees, and the sun shone down on farmland where the wind blew dust devils amongst the fields. As soon as she was over, she snatched the rope from their hands, bucket and all, and cast it back down the shaft.
‘Tiro!’ she cried, peering down into the darkness as the bucket rattled down into the gloom, the rope unwinding. What could she see down there? Even as she watched, a struggling figure fell into the water, and black blood rushed down the channel. The rope swung backwards and forwards. Assegais flashed and clashed. Who was friend and who was foe down there?
The troglodytes joined her, staring down into the confusion. Dido shouted again.
‘Tiro! The rope! Grab the rope.’
Still the figures duelled and fought and struggled. Still the rope swung back and forth, bucket at the end, unheeded. Then another figure fell, and another seized the rope.
‘Pull!’ shouted Dido, miming the action to the troglodytes. Even as they began hauling, an assegai flicked out of the shadows and caught Flaminius in the breast. He did not fall from the rope, but slumped forward, one foot in the bucket, lying against the rope, one arm wrapped almost negligently round it.
‘Pull!’ sobbed Dido, and they hauled on the rope again and again. The words of the diviner echoed round and her head as the rope went up and up the shaft: Only one of them would return. Only one. Only one. Amasis lay on the ground nearby, unmoving and unregarded, pierced by the spear. She didn’t dare try to remove it for fear that the shock would kill him outright. Flaminius dangled limply from the rope below, a dead weight spinning round and round as he was hauled upwards. Down at the bottom of the well, dark figures watched. One flung a spear but it missed Flaminius and hit the side of the well. Another tried to leap up after the ascending figure, and succeeded in grabbing hold of the edge of the shaft, but then his hands slipped and he
fell back with a splash into the water.
At last Dido and the troglodytes dragged the rope over the side, Flaminius, bucket and all, tipping the bleeding form onto the sandy ground. Troglodytes leapt to the copingstones, yelling and jeering down at the frustrated Garamantes. These latter vanished into the shadows of the tunnel, no doubt to trudge back up the channel to the city and tell the king of their failure.
Dido went to Flaminius’ side, but he rose unsteadily to his feet and clung to her. She embraced him. ‘I thought you were dead.’ She examined the shallow wound that wept blood from his chest.
‘Never mind me,’ said Flaminius, ‘What about Amasis?’
She went over to check him. Her face fell as she looked up. Flaminius frowned urgently.
She shook her head.
—31—
Outskirts of Garama, Phazania, 22nd December 124 AD
Flaminius knelt beside the lifeless form. The troglodytes gathered round. All this way, all these deaths—and for what? For nothing. There had been no sign of the Veil in Tanit’s temple, but that had come as no surprise.
‘We can’t stay here,’ Dido said. ‘The Garamantes will be searching for us. Those who pursued couldn’t follow us up the shaft, but they’ll find another way. We’ll have to move.’
‘I’ve got to bury Amasis.’ Flaminius was scrabbling frantically at the soil. ‘It’s the least I can do.’
‘Tiro,’ Dido said patiently. ‘Did you not hear me? We can’t stay here. Your army has vanished into the hills. The Garamantes will be coming for us. I realise you cared about the boy, but…’
She broke off. The troglodytes were helping Flaminius dig a shallow grave.
Indecisively she walked to the edge of the trees, and looked out in the direction of the city walls. Already people were visible, peasants on their way to scavenge now that the battle was over. The guards would be coming this way soon too. They knew their position. Perhaps the Garamantes wouldn’t guess that their prey would be so stupid as to remain here… They should be on the trail of the troglodyte army, fleeing into the hills!
The Kingdom That Rome Forgot Page 22
