Scourge of Rome

by Douglas Jackson

  ‘Thank you in any case.’ There was a long pause as the two men contemplated what might have been, before Valerius spoke again. ‘Gavvo appears to have had a great deal of trouble getting me to the surface. Do you think he was trying as hard as he might?’

  The former gladiator looked thoughtful. ‘If he was trying to kill you he disguised it well.’

  Valerius let him walk a few paces. ‘Serpentius?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I remember when we were shipwrecked you told me you couldn’t swim.’

  Serpentius laughed. ‘I must have forgotten.’

  When he was gone Valerius pulled up his blanket and let the waves of exhaustion wash over him. He was too tired to even think about what would happen tomorrow. For the moment they were alive and safe. After the interminable watery ordeal of today, that was enough. He didn’t know how long he’d been sleeping when the warm body in the cloak burrowed in beside him.

  ‘This is unseemly,’ he groaned.

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘This is right.’

  Beneath the cloak she was naked.

  It was astonishing how quickly his strength returned.

  XVIII

  Valerius woke alone, with a sense of loss that wasn’t allowed to last long.

  ‘Come, you should see this,’ Serpentius urged before he had time to don his armour.

  Gaulan, Paternus and Tabitha – whose slanted blue eyes gave him a covert look that sent a shiver down his spine – were already standing by the waterline staring at the opposite shore. On the far side of the water in the soft golden light of the dawn the smoke of at least a hundred cooking fires hung in the still air like the pillars of a temple. A few dozen men and women stared back from the shoreline a hundred and fifty paces away. Beyond them hundreds more went about the business of preparing the morning meal, cutting wood and building small shelters from the branches. A man in the closest group sprang forward into the shallows and began to dance and caper, screaming what could only be abuse.

  ‘Ah, the morning’s entertainment,’ Paternus sniffed. ‘What does he say?’

  ‘He’s going to cut out our livers,’ Tabitha translated for him. ‘And feed them to his dogs.’

  ‘Hardly original.’

  ‘Oh, there were other things,’ she laughed. ‘But not the kind a lady should talk about.’

  ‘How many do we think they are?’ Valerius changed the subject.

  ‘Not less than the thousand the scouts estimated were holding the road yesterday,’ Gaulan answered. ‘But there could be more in the trees. They look as if they’re here to stay.’

  ‘Wouldn’t you?’ Valerius studied the far bank. ‘They have us where they want us. We can sit here until we’re gnawing on the bones of our horses, or we can attack. If we attack it will be through water and we’ll hit the shore with little or no momentum.’

  ‘But we’re archers,’ the Chalcidean growled, insulted that for the second time the Roman showed no faith in his men’s fighting abilities. ‘We can stand off in the shallows and rake them with showers of arrows. That will soon see them off.’

  ‘They’ll have salted the shallows with traps,’ Valerius countered patiently. ‘See how carefully our entertainer walks as he returns to the shore. Pits with wooden spikes. And beyond them, within spear throw, they’re already building barricades. All I’m saying is that we don’t need to charge them like a bull at a gate.’

  ‘So we attack them at night?’

  ‘Just before dawn. They’ll build fires along the shore at night so they can see us coming, but they’ll allow them to die down as sunrise approaches. That’s when we strike. When the guards are thinking about their stomachs and the rest are still dreaming.’

  ‘But we attack?’

  ‘Of course we attack,’ Valerius grinned. ‘Do you think I want to sit in the middle of this flea-ridden swamp for a day longer than necessary?’

  ‘Can you do it?’ Tabitha asked as they walked back to the main camp.

  ‘It won’t be easy,’ Valerius admitted. ‘But if the gods will it we can win. They are rebels and Gaulan’s men and the Emesans are soldiers. If we can surprise them, our discipline will always overcome enthusiasm.’

  She held his eyes for a moment and nodded. As she walked away she was immediately replaced by Paternus. ‘You will allow me to join this expedition?’ the tribune demanded.

  Valerius reluctantly shook his head. ‘This is a job for chosen men who know and trust each other’s skills and courage.’ He saw Paternus bridle at what he perceived as a slight to his honour and hurried on. ‘I suggest you stay on the island and command the rearguard. Someone has to protect the baggage and the lady Tabitha.’

  ‘You do not trust me to fight?’

  Valerius gripped the other man’s arm. ‘I trust you to lead, Paternus.’

  The scarred tribune stared at him for a long moment. Eventually he shook his arm free and walked off, leaving Valerius to wonder if he’d lost the art of command. Two years ago he would have convinced Paternus that it was in all their interests and made him feel honoured to take charge of the rearguard. When he reached his bedding, the Judaean duck hunter was waiting with Gaulan, his eyes wary, tensed like an animal ready to run for its life.

  Valerius sat on his blanket and motioned to the man to take his seat opposite. ‘What is his name?’

  Gaulan put the question. ‘He is called Simon Ben Huleh.’

  ‘Ask Simon about the shore to the south of the island. How does it lie and what is the terrain like?’

  The hunter’s wide eyes darted from one man to the other. Valerius sensed the calculations going through his mind; the weighing of the scales. What was to be gained from the truth? What was the price of a lie? Gaulan drew the knife from his belt, picked up a nearby stone, studied it for grain and began to whet the blade.

  Simon’s eyes widened further at sight of the knife. Words began to pour from him and his hands formed patterns in the air. ‘It is not the shore proper, because the lake continues for many miles, but a peninsula, shaped thus.’ The Chalcidean used the knife point to draw a lopsided triangle the shape of a shark’s fin, with the causeway at its base. ‘On the side closest to us a strip about one hundred paces wide has been cleared over the years, because this is where the king’s hunters have their camp each year when the great flocks come here to roost. They net duck and other waterfowl in their thousands and cranes by the hundred. The number of smaller birds taken is countless. This is in the month of Cheshvan, you understand, when Simon is prohibited to hunt. Despite the slaughter many more thousands escape, and—’

  ‘With respect to Simon, I am not here to hunt,’ Valerius said evenly. ‘Ask him how far this shore runs to the west.’

  ‘He has no concept of far, but a man could reach the point in a skiff in the time it takes the sun to go from here to here.’ He created an arc in the sky that equated to approximately one hour.

  ‘And what is beyond the cleared strip?’

  A little later Valerius and Gaulan were joined by the Emesan cavalry prefect. Valerius felt a slight surge of irritation when Paternus followed, but knew there was no changing it. Valerius was a landless exile, Paternus a ranking Roman officer who would have been perfectly within his rights to take charge of the column. Valerius sensed that something more than politeness stopped him, but he wasn’t sure what. When they were gathered around the improvised map he’d drawn in the sand he outlined the situation as Simon had told it.

  ‘I’d hoped the west of the peninsula might provide us with some kind of way out, but our guide says it’s an impassable mix of forest and deep swamp. Still, that might have its advantages. Here is the forest in the centre where the Judaeans have made their shelters.’ He used a twig to indicate a group of circles. ‘It’s possible they also spread east towards the causeway. But the key is the cleared strip, which is well guarded opposite, but runs for another mile, at least, to the west.’

  ‘You say a night attack won’t work,’ Gaulan growled. ‘I ac
cept the bulk of the enemy will be half asleep just before dawn, but even if the fires are dying the guards will still be alert. The others will soon wake up if they know we’re coming. How does this help us?’

  ‘Because I don’t intend them to know we’re coming until we’re among them.’ Valerius met his unflinching gaze.

  The commander of the Emesan archers snorted in disbelief. ‘Are we djinns to be able to transport six hundred horses across the lake and set them down in silence among our enemies?’

  ‘No,’ Valerius admitted, ‘but horses can swim.’

  ‘The guards will slaughter the first men on the beach. You said so yourself.’ It was obvious Gaulan had as many doubts as his fellow officer.

  ‘We won’t be on that beach.’ Valerius struck a line through the marked defences with his twig. ‘We’ll use this one.’ He indicated a position to the far west. ‘And the reason they won’t know we are there is because they’ll think all the beasts of Hades are attacking them from here.’ The twig flicked back to the base of the triangle.

  Gaulan suddenly showed a new interest. ‘How?’

  ‘We’ve captured three skiffs,’ Valerius reminded him. ‘They ride low in the water so they’ll be difficult to see in the dark. Simon,’ he saw the puzzlement in their eyes, ‘the duck hunter, will take one skiff west and land six men to kill any guards. I doubt there will be many because we can’t escape from that side.’

  ‘But we can attack.’

  ‘That’s right. You form up your men and wait for the signal.’

  ‘What will the signal be?’

  ‘Hopefully a few dozen burning huts.’ Valerius smiled grimly. ‘The other two skiffs will land amongst the reeds to the east. Ten men to a skiff, five on board and five hanging on to the sides, all dressed as Judaeans, or enough to look like one in the semi-dark. Twenty men can cause a great deal of chaos with surprise on their side, especially twenty men who act and sound like two or three times that number.’ He turned to Gaulan. ‘Charge when you see the flames, but tell your men to be vigilant for one of these.’ He produced a strip of white cloth and tied it to his arm. ‘Because that will be the sign of a friend.’

  ‘And who will lead these twenty heroes who are now fighting for their lives among a thousand Zealots?’

  Valerius looked up into Tabitha’s appraising eyes.

  It was even colder in the water than Valerius remembered. He was beginning to regret the impulse that had made him insist on being one of the group hanging on to the skiff’s side. His naked body had grown numb long before they approached the bank of reeds to the east of the Judaean watchfires. He flexed the fingers of his left hand and prayed it had enough feeling in it to hold a sword in a few moments’ time. In front of him he could see the scarred dome of Serpentius’s shaven head.

  Tabitha had argued against his inclusion among the group, but Valerius knew this was where the greatest guile and, more important, the greatest resolve would be required. The only way he could ask these men to risk their lives was to lead by example. So much could go wrong. If even one guard survived long enough to raise the alarm the attack was more likely to fail than not. The defenders would swarm west with their spears and their knives and slaughter Gaulan’s horsemen while they were still swimming their animals ashore. The Chalcidean had been horrified when Valerius pointed out that the only way to swim a horse so far was for the archers to float alongside them. That meant their bow strings would become wet and a wet bow string was as good as no bow string at all. So there would be no long-range killing from the shallows if they were discovered. But every archer had a sword, similar to the long spatha carried by Roman auxiliary cavalry. Those long blades would cause carnage and terror if they were carried against an unprepared enemy driven to panic by a determined attack on their rear. So the chance must be taken.

  Paternus had wanted to bring the rearguard across from the island against the enemy flank when the main attack struck. Valerius agreed the suggestion had merit. Another surprise blow might be enough to turn a battle teetering on a knife edge into an overwhelming victory. But if the attack failed and Gaulan’s men were dead and scattered it would leave the baggage train – and Tabitha – at the mercy of the Judaeans. Valerius doubted much mercy would be forthcoming. So he’d told Paternus he must hold his position. As a precaution, two of Gaulan’s men would ignore the fighting and ride directly for the causeway and the road to Caesarea Philippi. If the worst happened, reinforcements would arrive by noon the following day in time to drive the victorious Judaeans away and rescue the survivors.

  But that was in the future. The skiff finally reached the stand of reeds near the shore and now the packed stems were trying to tear him from the little craft. He heard the men in the water mutter muffled curses and hissed for quiet. Trying not to make a sound he used his free arm and feet to help propel him to the bank. Agonizing seconds passed until he felt one foot touch bottom and the slight crunch as the skiff hit shore. In complete silence the men on board the boats hauled the others aboard. They dried themselves off and threw on tunics and robes that had been stowed during the voyage. Serpentius helped Valerius strap on his sword and dagger and the Roman stepped ashore calling softly for the men to gather around him.

  He waited till they were close enough to hear his hoarse whisper. ‘I will lead. We take it slowly and make no noise until we’re sure we’re among them. If we’re challenged, hold the guard’s attention until Serpentius can deal with him. Once we see the fires we split up into fours as we agreed. One man to snatch a brand and burn the nearest hut. Kill everything that gets in your way: they will give you no mercy if the reverse is true.’ After much thought, Valerius had decided that the burning huts might not be enough of a signal, hidden among the trees as they were. To make sure, he’d delegated one archer to loose a fire arrow when they had the enemy’s attention. ‘When you see the arrow, remember to knot the white cloth round your right shoulder, otherwise you’re as likely to be killed by a friend as an enemy. Now, follow me.’

  He led the way through the threatening darkness, keeping to the fringe of the forest and guided by the lights of the watchfires to his right. The clothes he wore had been taken from a dead Judaean and his nose wrinkled with the stink of another man’s sweat and dried blood. He took his time, placing his feet carefully and feeling for any twigs or branches that might snap and give away his position to an alert guard.

  It was unnaturally quiet. There should have been night sounds. The shriek of a hunting owl. The bark of a fox. Nothing. His ears strained for the faraway cry that would signal that Gaulan and his men had been detected, but all he could hear was the faint crackle from the fires, the soft rush of waves on the shore and the laboured, nervous breathing of the men ranged close by. Like him they would be gripping and regripping their sword hilts. Like him their hearts would be thundering in their chests fit to burst out. They were so close now they could smell the latrine stink of the scattered shit pits that were the mark of every gathering of ill-disciplined barbarians. In the darkness every shadowy bush and tree appeared as an enemy waiting to pounce, his stillness a testament to his skills.

  Where were the guards? Valerius’s mind screamed at him that it was a trap and to get out while they could. They must have been seen as they entered the reeds and the enemy was allowing them deeper and deeper into his territory. Serpentius was closest to him and he could sense a similar confusion in the Spaniard. With every step he expected to hear a triumphant shriek and the rush from the shadows that would herald their deaths. But it didn’t come. Instead, they came level with the watchfires, still apparently unseen.

  He turned to Serpentius. The former gladiator’s eyes glittered in the firelight and Valerius shrugged in answer to the unspoken question in them. They’d come this far … Gaulan’s men would be landing now, or forming up. He nodded and ran for the nearest fire, followed by four others. In the glaring light from the fires his back tensed for the strike of a spear, but suddenly he could feel the heat of the fla
mes on his face. He picked up the unburned end of a brand out of the glowing coals and sprinted with it to the forest. Where was it? There! Just a large heap of twigs and leaves, a rebel shelter capable of holding four or five men. As his companions screamed to draw attention and hunted potential victims through the trees he thrust the brand into the twigs and waited until the material caught. In the darkness around him other shelters took light and flared up in explosions of fire and sparks. He ran through the smoke to a second shelter, leaving the others to deal with the occupants of the first. Where were the screams and the shouts of panic? Where was the opposition? He stumbled to a dazed halt as he realized it was all pointless.

  The Judaeans were gone.

  XIX

  Valerius ordered one section of men to check the ground towards the causeway for any sign of stragglers or a surprise attack. Perhaps the rebels had been warned of Gaulan’s presence and moved out to meet him, but he didn’t think so. They would have left their women behind with their baggage. Here there was nothing but the detritus of an abandoned camp. He called the signaller bowman to his side and held out the glowing brand of the torch. The archer placed an arrow wound with pitch-soaked cloth against it until it lit. The moment the flame appeared the man drew back his bow and loosed so the fire arrow arced into the night before falling with a sharp hiss just off shore.

  ‘Now loose another.’ Valerius hoped that Gaulan would realize the second arrow signified a change in circumstances and would make him wary enough to rein in the headlong charge they’d planned. As the second arrow sailed skywards he called the men together and led them down to the shoreline, where the watchfires were beginning to burn down. ‘Throw more wood on the fires and make sure your white cloths show clearly,’ he ordered. ‘No point in dying now.’