Cato leaned forward. ‘There was nothing Centurion Micon could do.’
‘He could have died like a soldier, and not run like a bloody whipped cur and abandoned his mates.’
‘Then who would have been left to make his report to us?’
Macro sucked a breath in through his teeth. In the legions, it was a dyed-in-the-wool tradition that centurions never gave an inch in battle. Clearly a different standard applied in the auxiliary cohorts. ‘Well, surely he could have found someone to ride back and break the news.’
Sempronius rapped his hand on the desk. ‘Enough! This is not getting us anywhere.The question is what do we do now? This defeat has changed everything at a stroke. Marcellus had the best of our men, and now he’s thrown them away. All we have left are a few small detachments on the north of the island, the Tenth Macedonian, and the cohort at Matala. What’s that? Six hundred men at most.’ Sempronius shook his head. ‘How the hell could these wretched slaves have done this to us? How could they have defeated trained soldiers? I underestimated the slaves, and this gladiator who is leading them.’
Cato kept his mouth shut and fought back a surge of anger and indignation. It was the senator’s responsibility for not taking the slave threat seriously enough. Cato, and Macro to a lesser extent, had both been aware of the dangers, but their concerns had been dismissed. It was tempting to exact some recognition of who should bear the blame, but now was not the time. Any bitter divisions amongst those left in charge of the province would only make their perilous situation worse.
‘So,’ Sempronius continued, looking at Macro and Cato, ‘you’re the ones with military experience.What should we do?’
‘What can we do?’ Macro answered coldly. ‘It seems we’re outnumbered, outwitted and we’ve been given a good kicking. Best thing to do is send for help and hold out here until it arrives.’
Sempronius did not appear to like what he had heard and turned to Cato. ‘And what do you think?’
‘Macro’s right, sir. With so few men, we have no choice. It would be madness to send what’s left against the slaves. Gortyna must be defended.’
‘Defended?’ Sempronius raised his eyebrows. ‘How? There must be twenty or thirty breaches in the walls where the earthquake shook them down.’
‘That’s true enough, sir. But we have to repair them before the slaves take it into their heads to march on Gortyna.’
‘Do you really think they will?’
‘I would, if I was in their place. N o w they have us at their mercy, they can make their demands, or threaten to wipe us out.’
‘Then we have to fix the walls, at once.’
Macro shook his head. ‘That’s not possible, sir. The damage is too great. Even if we set every man, woman and child to work repairing the breaches, it would take us too many days to do it.’
Cato thought a moment. ‘Then we must abandon Gortyna. We have to bring everyone up here on to the acropolis.’
‘Is there room for everyone?’ asked Sempronius. ‘There are over fifteen thousand people out there. The conditions would be appalling.’
Cato looked at him directly. ‘They either come up here, or take their chances with the slaves.’
‘What about Matala?’ Macro interrupted. ‘We could send some of them there. If they left now, they could reach the port before this slave army moves in from the east.’
‘No. It’s too risky. The slaves might already have patrols out in the surrounding countryside.We’d need to send a strong detachment to protect the civilians. We need every man here, to defend the province’s capital.’ Cato paused. ‘However, we have to send a warning to Centurion Portillus and tell him what has happened. He’ll need to protect the people of Matala. It would be best if he was ordered to move them up inside the acropolis there as well.’
Sempronius sagged back in his chair. ‘My gods, these slaves have us on the run. They’ll have us trapped like rats in a hole. When Romehears of this, I’m finished.’
Cato cleared his throat and spoke softly. ‘If we don’t do what we can to save what’s left, then we risk losing the entire province, sir. That’s something the emperor would never forgive.’ He let his words sink in and then continued. ‘The thing is, we were never supposed to be here in the first place. It was just blind chance that our ship was passing when the wave struck.’
‘So?’
‘So I don’t see how you can be called to account. The situation could hardly have been worse, and you’ve done all you can to restore order.’
‘Kind words, Cato, but I doubt the emperor will agree with you. Regardless of what we might have achieved, we are the ones he will hold responsible if these slaves succeed in humbling Roman interests.’
Macro puffed his cheeks. ‘Then you’re going to have to bloody do something about it – sir.’
‘Do?’ Sempronius said helplessly. ‘What can I do?’ ‘Get more men. More soldiers.’ ‘How? I can’t just conjure them out of thin air.’
‘Get them from Egypt,’ Macro said tersely. ‘You said that you know the emperor’s legate there, right? Gaius Petronius. He’s a member of the equestrian class.’
Sempronius nodded.
‘And you’re a senator. So you outrank him. Order him to send reinforcements.’
Sempronius considered this for a moment before responding. ‘And if he doesn’t?’
‘Then you must tell him that if Crete falls to the slaves you will make damn sure that Rome knows that you asked him for help and he refused. You won’t be the only one who draws down the emperor’s wrath.’ Macro forced a smile. ‘I can’t see him turning down the chance to avoid being in Claudius’s bad books.’
‘Macro’s right, sir,’ said Cato. ‘You have nothing to lose from pressing the Egyptian legate for help. If you head to the coast and take the first available ship, you could be in Alexandria in a matter of days, and back here with the reinforcements inside a month. If you can get enough men, I’m sure we can quickly crush the revolt.’
‘You think it’s that easy?’ Macro glanced at him in surprise. ‘Why not? As long as we don’t follow the example of Marcellus.’ Sempronius cleared his throat. ‘I’m not leaving Gortyna. It’s out of the question.’ ‘Why?’ Cato stared at him. ‘Think about it, Cato. The slaves have annihilated most of our forces and have the province at their mercy. Just at that point the acting governor decides to quit Crete for the safety ofEgypt to fetch reinforcements, while his subordinates and thousands of civilians are left to face the rebels. It’s not the most edifying display ofleadership, is it?’
‘That’s for others to say, sir.You have to put that possibility aside for the moment. You have to go to Egypt. You know the legate. Only someone with your authority can persuade Petronius to send reinforcements.’
‘That’s true,’ Sempronius conceded, and nodded slowly as he contemplated the problem. Then a smile formed on his lips and he looked up at his officers. ‘Of course, if I was to send someone in my place, authorised to act on my behalf, then we might get our way. Obviously, the person in question would have to be up to the task of talking the legate round.’
At the same moment both the senator and Macro fixed their eyes on Cato.With a sudden surge ofalarm, Cato sat back and shook his head. ‘No. Not me.’
‘Why not?’ asked Sempronius.
‘I’m too young,’ Cato admitted. ‘The legate would take one look at me and wonder if he could take me seriously as a centurion, let alone the envoy of the governor of Crete. Send Macro.’
‘What?’ Macro started, and then glared at Cato. ‘Thanks.’
Sempronius smiled briefly. ‘With all due respect to his abilities as a politician, Macro’s talents are best utilised in defence of Gortyna. The man I need in Alexandria has to be a powerful advocate for our request for reinforcements. I think you are that man.’
‘Yes,’ Macro added with a smirk. ‘I know you, lad. You could argue the hind leg off a donkey, and then debate the moral
justification for doing it.The senator’s right, it has to be you.’
Cato felt the situation slipping out of his control and made one last attempt to protest. ‘Sir, please reconsider. I’m one of the most junior centurions in the army. Even if Petronius accepts my arguments, he’s hardly going to entrust me with a force large enough to crush the slaves.’ ‘Then I will just have to promote you,’ Sempronius decided.
‘Temporarily, of course. For the duration of the emergency’ ‘Promote me?’ Cato was stunned by the idea, until he realised it made sense. Up to a point. ‘If I go in as a prefect, then it will look even more ridiculous than me holding the rank of centurion, sir.
Besides, the Legate of Egypt would still have seniority.’ ‘Who said anything about being a prefect? I’m sending you to Egypt with the civil rank of tribune.’ ‘Tribune?’ N o w Cato was truly shocked. The tribunate was largely an honorific title in Rome, but was still occasionally conferred upon officials sent out to the provinces to act with the authority of the emperor and his senate. Cato gently chewed his lip. ‘Can you do that?’
‘I am the acting governor of this province, having assumed authority in the emperor’s name. It’s worked so far. And, as you said, what have I got to lose? I’ll draw up the document, and seal it with the governor’s ring. In fact, you’d better take my family ring with you to prove that I sent you. That, and your quick wits, will carry the argument.’
‘They’ll have to,’ Macro added. ‘Otherwise we’re all in the shit.’
‘Quite,’ said Sempronius. ‘If we win the day, then I’ll just have to hope the emperor overlooks the fact that I’ve overstepped the mark in conferring the rank on you.’
Cato smiled bitterly. ‘And if he doesn’t, then I’ll be had up for acting without proper authority. Men have been condemned for treason for doing such things. I think I’d rather stay here and face the slaves.’
‘Then you’re dead either way’ Sempronius shrugged. ‘What have you got to lose?’
Cato’s shoulders drooped in resignation. ‘All right, then. I’ll go.’
‘Good man!’ Macro slapped him on the back. ‘Get to Alexandria, and find us those men. And don’t go and fuck it up.’
‘Thanks for the encouragement.’
‘You’re welcome.’ Macro grinned. ‘Anyway, you’ve got it easy. It’s us who’ll be having to cope with those slaves and that gladiator they’ve got leading them. Which reminds me.’ He turned to Centurion Micon, who had been keeping as still and as quiet as possible during the preceding discussion, no doubt hoping that invisibility was his best hope in escaping the shame of fleeing the battlefield that had claimed the lives of his commander and all but a handful of his men. He wilted before Macro’s gaze.
‘Sir?’ ‘This gladiator. Did that boy you captured mention his name?’ Yes, yes, he did, sir.’ Micon nodded. ‘He said he was a Thracian called Ajax.’ ‘Ajax?’ Macro scratched his chin, and then his fingers froze as his eyes suddenly widened. ‘Ajax!’ He turned to Cato. ‘What do you think? Is it possible?’
‘Does the name mean something to you?’ asked the senator. ‘It does.At least I think it does. The man I saw recognised me, I’m certain of it. But there’s only one Ajax I can recall meeting, and it’s hard to believe it can be the same man.’
Cato took a deep breath. ‘If it is, and he knows that we’re on the island, then we’re in even more danger than I thought. Ajax won’t rest until he’s had his full measure of revenge.’
‘Revenge?’ Sempronius hissed with frustration. ‘Would you mind telling me what’s going on? Who is this Ajax, and what has he got against you?’
‘It’s a long story,’ said Macro. ‘But he has his reasons for hating us. His father used to command a pirate fleet operating out of the coast of Illyria. Until Cato and I put paid to his activities. We captured Ajax, his father and most of the pirates. We had orders to make an example of them.’ He shrugged. ‘Cato and I were the ones who crucified his father and had Ajax sold into slavery.’
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CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Two days after the news of the defeat reached Gortyna, Cato arrived at the small fishing village of Ciprana on the south coast. The port had been recommended to him as being virtually cut off from the rest ofthe island by the sheer mountains that surrounded it. Only a little-used track linked Ciprana to the plain, picking its way along steep slopes and ravines. It was unlikely that the slaves had even heard of the place, let alone knew how to find the port. There should be some craft there capable of carrying Cato across the sea to Alexandria.
He travelled on horseback with an escort of four picked men, all wearing scarlet tunics and cloaks that marked them out as Roman soldiers. Cato had been provided with an expensively embroidered tunic from what was left of the wardrobe of Governor Hirtius. He also wore the man’s fine calfskin boots, which were a little on the large side, but comfortable enough after years of wearing the heavy nailed boots of the legions. In a sealed leather tube that hung from a thong around Cato’s neck were two documents and the senator’s family ring. The first letter appointed him to the temporary rank of tribune, signed and sealed by Senator Sempronius in the name of the Emperor Claudius. Both Cato and the senator hoped that the document would impress the legate in Egypt enough to persuade him to send aid. The second was a detailed report of the situation in Crete, which clearly outlined the dangers facing the province. Sempronius concluded with a request that Legate Petronius send a squadron of warships and a military force powerful enough to put down the slave revolt.
It was an ambitious demand, Cato reflected. There was every chance that Petronius might refuse, or delay sending the reinforce- ments while he sent a message to Rome asking for Sempronius’s instructions to be approved. Such a delay would prove fatal to all concerned, and the senator had impressed upon Cato the need to use all his persuasive skills to ensure that Petronius complied. He would be armed with bluff and argument, Cato mused. Hardly an inspiring thought.
As Cato and his escort followed the shepherd who had been sent along to guide them to the port, his mind was fixed on the peril that Julia and Macro faced at Gortyna. The people had been terrified by the news of the ambush, and some had chosen to pack what belongings they could and flee to the north, over the high mountains that formed the spine of the island. With neither food nor protection, they would be at the mercy of the weather and the bands of brigands that preyed on travellers from their strong- holds.There had been no reasoning with those who had chosen this course rather than face the prospect of being massacred by the rebel slaves.
Macro had been unmoved as he watched them trickle out of the city. ‘Less mouths for us to feed, at any rate.’
‘That’s true.’ Cato watched the refugees a moment longer before turning to his friend. ‘Do you really think you can hold Gortyna if the slaves attack?’
Work had commenced on repairing the walls and gates ofthe city as soon as the remaining inhabitants could be organised into labour gangs. Gaps were filled with rubble and topped with crude breast- works. It would not keep the enemy out for long, Macro had informed the senator, but Sempronius had quietly pointed out that it would be best to keep the people occupied and offer them some hope, rather than sitting and waiting in fear.
‘We’ll make a show ofmanning the walls. I’ll have all the spare kit distributed to able-bodied men, so at least we’ll look like we have the numbers to put up a good fight. If Ajax calls our bluff and-attacks, then we’ll fall back to the acropolis and hold out there.We should be safe enough.’
‘I hope so.’
Macro glanced at his friend and saw the young man’s concerned expression. ‘You’re worried about Julia.’
‘Of course I am.’
‘I’ll make sure she’s safe. If it looks like the acropolis is going to fall, then I’ll do my best to protect her and get her safely away’
‘And if you can’t?’ ‘Then I will protect her until they cut me down.’ Cato was
silent for a moment. ‘I wouldn’t want them to harm her.
If there was any risk of the slaves taking her alive . . .’ ‘Look here, Cato,’ Macro began awkwardly. ‘I’m not prepared to prevent her falling into their hands. If that’s what you mean.’ He paused and cleared his throat. ‘Not unless you really want me to.’
‘No. I wouldn’t ask that of you, or anyone. That’s her choice.’
‘I suppose.’ Macro poked his vine stick at a crack in the stonework. ‘She’s a brave one, and proud too. She’ll do what’s right, if the time comes.’
Cato felt his stomach lurch. This conversation did not feel real. They were talking in the calm, measured tones of men who might be casually discussing the solution to some kind of technical problem. The image of Julia, powerless and terrified before the faceless rage of the vengeful slaves, filled his heart with a pain he had not known before. At the same time, he could not bear the thought of her being put to death, even to spare her a worse fate before death eventually came. He felt sick and gripped the edge of the parapet with his fingers. It was tempting to abandon his journey to Alexandria and remain in Gortyna to defend Julia. After all, the Legate ofEgypt would probably deny them the forces needed to put down the revolt. It was a fool’s errand.
He took a deep breath to calm his growing anxiety and pushed himself away from the wall, and straightened up. ‘Well, let’s hope that it doesn’t come to that. I’ll return as soon as I can.’
‘You do that.’
They clasped arms and then Macro nodded towards the administration building. ‘Have you said goodbye to Julia yet?’
‘No. I’ve been putting it off. I don’t know who she is more angry at, me for going or her father for sending me.’
Macro chuckled and slapped Cato on the shoulder. ‘I warned you, old son. A soldier should never let himself get too involved with the fairer sex. It unmans him, and preoccupies his mind when it should be focused on other things.’
‘Too true,’ Cato replied. ‘Too bloody true. Anyway, here I go.’
The Gladiator Page 19
