Centurion c-8 Read online

  'No.We had the matter in hand.We were just waiting for first light before calling in our cavalry.' Macro gestured to the men of the Second Illyrian galloping towards them.

  Behind the front rank of auxiliaries, Cato turned to Parmenion and muttered,'Better send a runner to Centurion Aquila. Don't want our cavalry getting the wrong end of the stick.'

  'Yes, sir.'

  As Parmenion hurried off to give the orders Cato stepped out from the line of his auxiliaries and joined Macro just as Balthus shook his head and laughed.

  'Roman cavalry… I don't think they would have made much of a difference.'

  Macro flushed angrily and took a step towards Balthus. 'Now, look here, we could have taken care of ourselves.'

  Even though he shared his friend's sense of wounded pride Cato knew this was neither the time nor the place to take umbrage, and he cleared his throat loudly. So loudly that both Balthus and Macro turned to look at him.

  'Quite finished?' Macro growled.

  'Sorry, sir. It's the dust. Anyway, I think we've established that we're on the same side as the prince. It's time we discussed the situation in Palmyra with him.'

  'It is?'

  'Yes.' Cato nodded quickly. 'Most definitely, sir.'

  Macro stared at Cato for a moment and then turned back to Prince Balthus. 'Very well. If you tell your followers to dismount, I'll order my men to stand down, then we can talk a bit more calmly.'

  Balthus nodded. 'That would be best, Centurion.'

  He turned round and called out to his followers. A moment later, the riders slipped down from their saddles and squatted quietly by their horses, ready to remount the instant their leader gave the order. Still, Macro reasoned, they were acting in good faith, and he turned to his own men and bellowed the order to stand down. The men lowered their shields and javelins and kept a wary eye on the Palmyrans as the latter reached into their saddlebags for a scrap of bread or dried meat to chew on as they waited for further orders. A short distance from the square, Centurion Aquila had halted his men and they too dismounted as they rejoined their comrades.The tension between the two small forces was still quite palpable. Cato smiled faintly. At least it took the edge off the ongoing hostility between the legionaries and the auxiliaries, for the moment.

  Prince Balthus slid off his horse and beckoned to one of his men to look after the beast before he turned to stride across the sand towards the two Roman officers. He stopped before them and appraised them carefully with his dark eyes, then squatted down, gesturing for them to do the same. Macro frowned, unused and unwilling to accept authority from anyone who wasn't Roman. Cato lowered himself to the ground and crossed his legs and, with a weary sigh, Macro followed suit.

  'So,' Balthus began, 'this is how Rome honours its treaty with my father. At his time of need, your governor sends him a mere handful of men to restore his kingdom. I warned him not to trust Rome.'

  'We are the advance force,' Macro explained tersely. 'General Longinus will march on Palmyra the moment the rest of his army has formed up.'

  'And what is this advance force expected to achieve, precisely?'

  'Our orders are to break through to the citadel and protect the king and the Roman citizens there, until the rest of the army arrives.'

  'I see.' Balthus nodded. 'The Roman reputation for meticulous planning is clearly well deserved.'

  Cato winced at the man's ironic tone, while Macro's frown deepened.

  'How do you intend to enter the city?' Balthus continued. 'What route do you intend to take through the streets to the citadel?'

  'We'll deal with that when we get there.'

  'Although,' Cato intervened, 'we would, of course, be grateful if you could offer us any advice, or assistance, in carrying through our orders.'

  'I'm sure a man can rely on Roman gratitude every bit as much as he can on Roman promises to help him.' Before Macro could react, Balthus continued smoothly, 'I will help you reach the citadel. But there are conditions.'

  'Conditions?' Macro responded warily.'What conditions?'

  'First, that I will lead the relief column, until it is safely within the citadel.'

  Macro shook his head. 'No. It's my command.There's no question of my giving it up.'

  'Centurion, right now you need my help rather more than I need yours. Without my men I doubt you'll even reach Palmyra, let alone fight your way through to the citadel. If you encounter any more horse-archers then I fear that you and your men would succumb to the fate I saved you from just now.'

  He paused to let his words sink in, and allow time for the two Roman officers to realise that he spoke the truth.Then he continued.

  'So I will lead this column.You will obey my orders, and when we reach the citadel you can assume command of your men again.'

  Macro smiled. 'I'm sure your father will appreciate the gesture. His faithful son coming to the rescue, at the head of my men. That's bound to make you look good in his eyes.'

  'Of course. I will need the trappings of loyalty if I am to make the most of being his successor.'

  'His successor?' Macro was taken aback. 'But you're the second son.You're not his heir.'

  'Not yet.' Balthus smiled.

  'I assume that's another of your conditions?' Cato asked quietly. 'You want Rome to confirm you as the successor.'

  'Yes. And there's more.' He lowered his voice. 'I want Artaxes executed the moment the revolt has been crushed, assuming he is captured.'

  'I doubt you'll find any opposition to that demand in Rome,' said Macro.

  'And I also want my older brother sent into exile.'

  'Exile?' Cato raised his eyebrows. 'Why? Your older brother is in the citadel with the king. He's a loyalist.'

  'Yes, it's too bad. But Amethus is also a fool.'

  Macro shook his head. 'I don't know about that. Foolishness is no bar to kingship as far as I know. Although there are exceptions.'

  'Quite. I am no fool, Centurion, and in the interests of Rome and Palmyra, it is best that I succeed my father.' A ruthless hunger filled the prince's eyes as he continued. 'Once this revolt is over, I will become the king. Naturally I may honour his treaty with Rome, with some modifications. '

  'Oh yes, naturally.'

  Balthus ignored Macro's sarcastic tone and eased himself back. 'Those are my terms. They are not open to negotiation.'

  Macro pursed his lips as he considered the offer. Then Cato intervened. 'They sound fair enough, sir.'

  Macro thought a moment before he replied. 'Maybe. But I can't go and make deals like this without the approval of Longinus. All I can give you is my word that I will present your case to my superiors. Is that acceptable?'

  Balthus shrugged. 'I'll take your word, Centurion. The word of a Roman officer is good enough for me. In return, my men and I will escort you to Palmyra and guide you through to the citadel, and then you will take command.'

  'All right.' Macro nodded, and offered his hand. 'I agree.'

  A smile flickered across Prince Balthus' lips as he clasped the Roman officer's hand and sealed the deal. Then he rose to his feet with a swift shimmer of his dark, gleaming robes. 'Then you had better prepare your men to march, Centurion.The dawn is already on us and we must cover as many miles as we can before midday.'

  Macro and Cato scrambled to their feet and bowed their heads as the Palmyran prince swirled round and strode back towards his men. Macro waited until Balthus was out of earshot and then said quietly, 'Well? What do you think?'

  'The arrangement is as good as we could get.'

  Macro looked at his friend. 'But?'

  'I don't trust him.'

  'Me neither.' Macro stared after Balthus a moment longer and then puffed out his cheeks. 'Well, let's get the men formed up for the day's march.'

  After a brief rest to eat the morning's rations the wounded were loaded on to the carts and the surviving mules were harnessed into their yokes. Several had been killed or crippled by the arrows and horses were taken from one of the cavalry col
umns to serve in their place. Prince Balthus and his men had already seized the handful of enemy mounts remaining on the battlefield as spoils of war. The dead were hurriedly buried in a shallow grave, which was covered with rocks to spare the bodies the indignity of being worried by carrion and other scavengers. Then the two cohorts formed up: the legionaries at the front, followed by the carts, and then the auxiliaries, with the cavalry squadrons riding ahead on both flanks. When every man was in place, Macro glanced back down the column and muttered, 'They're good men. You'd never think they had just been in a fight. We'll show that prince what real soldiers can do when we reach Palmyra.'

  'Yes, sir,' Cato responded. He continued evenly, 'Meanwhile, we need him and his men. They're our best chance of seeing this through.'

  Macro shook his head. 'Cato, my lad, I'm as aware of the situation as you are. I'll be on my best behaviour.'

  'Oh, I didn't mean you, sir.' Cato was embarrassed. 'I was referring to the men. We're going to have to watch them. Make sure they don't cause any trouble with the locals. If Balthus is anything to go by then we can't count on the warmest of welcomes when we get to Palmyra, whether they are our allies or not.'

  'No.' Macro sighed deeply. 'And on that heart-warming note, let's get moving.'

  The column trudged forward, towards the waiting Palmyran horsemen. A moment later, Balthus shouted an order and his men spread out in a thin screen ahead of the column and headed across the desert towards the distant city. The track took them past the site of the skirmish the Palmyrans had fought with the horse-archers at dawn and the Romans glanced curiously at the scores of bodies of men and horses littering the stony desert.

  Cato felt a chill in his spine as he looked over the scattered corpses. 'Curious, don't you think?'

  'What?' Macro turned towards his friend. 'What's curious?'

  'There were no prisoners. No sign of any seriously wounded amongst Balthus' men.'

  'So? They caught them on the hop, and gave them a good kicking.'

  'I know,' Cato agreed. 'But surely some of the rebels would have surrendered, and there must have been some casualties amongst Balthus' men. So, where are they?'

  Both officers glanced back to the dead men lying in the glare of the early morning sun. Macro spoke first.

  'It seems our man Balthus is an even more ruthless bastard than I thought.'

  Cato nodded. 'Just as long as he's our ruthless bastard.'

  'And if he isn't?'

  'Then the situation in Palmyra has every chance of becoming our worst nightmare,' Cato said quietly.

  08 Centurion

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  ' Quite a view,' Macro said as he reached for his canteen and took a small swig.

  Balthus and Cato were lying next to him, in the shadow cast by a stunted bush that grew along the long ridge overlooking Palmyra. Below them the rocky slope fell away until it met the plain which stretched away to the oasis that gave the city its name, and its wealth. Beyond the city lay a dense belt of palm trees and patches of irrigated farmland. To the south was a shallow vale scattered with tombs in the form of small towers.The gleaming walls of the city looped round the domes and tiled roofs of its dwellings and public buildings, built in the familiar Greek style.The main market, courts and temples stood to the west of the city, while at the eastern end a large walled enclosure dominated the surrounding buildings from the top of an expanse of higher ground. Cato pointed it out.

  'Is that the citadel?'

  Balthus nodded.

  'What's the best way to get to it?'

  'The east gate. There, see?'

  'Yes…' Cato strained his eyes. 'Yes, I've got it.'

  The gate was built into the wall without towers and only the thin ribbon of morning visitors to the city revealed its presence to Cato. Hardly a formidable defence, Cato decided. Inside the eastern gate the buildings sprawled low and it was clear this was the poorest quarter of the city. Cato's suspicions were instantly aroused.

  'Won't the streets be narrow there?'

  'Yes,' Balthus conceded.'But it is the most direct route to the citadel, and the main barracks and palaces are at the other end of the city. If we can gain entrance by the eastern gate before the alarm is given, and move fast, we should be able to break through the surrounding line of rebels and reach the citadel.'

  'If we can get in,' Cato stressed. 'We have to make sure that there are as few men as possible defending the gate when the column attacks. Which means there'll need to be a diversion. The garrison in the citadel will need to make a sortie.'

  'Sortie?' Macro turned on Cato. 'Have you forgotten? They're outnumbered and under siege.'

  'I know. But they must draw the enemy's attention away from the gate if there's to be any chance of the relief column cutting its way through to the citadel.'

  Balthus nodded. 'He is right, Centurion Macro.We must get the garrison to help us.'

  'Really?' Macro moistened his lips. 'You make it sound easy.'

  Balthus smiled at him. 'Surely the soldiers of the great Roman Empire will not baulk at such a minor challenge?'

  'They will not,' Macro replied firmly. 'So how do we get to the gate without attracting attention? There's too little cover down on the plain. We'll have to approach under cover of darkness.'

  'Of course we will, Centurion.' A frown briefly flickered across the prince's face. 'As I was about to say. We'll follow the ridge round to that point there.' He indicated a low spur that projected into the plain, no more than two miles from the curve of the wall on the northern side of the city. 'We'll have to muffle the horses' hooves with rags and abandon your carts there. We cannot afford to be given away by the sound of wheels or the squeal of an axle.'

  'What about our wounded?' asked Cato. 'We're not leaving them behind.'

  'They will slow us down. And what if one of them should cry out in pain?You would risk the rest of your men for the sake of a useless injured soldier?'

  'We're not leaving them behind,' Cato repeated forcefully. 'And they know better than to put the lives of their comrades at risk. They won't make any noise.'

  Balthus' gaze switched to Macro. 'Is this your will, Centurion?'

  'It is. Just as Cato said.'

  'Very well. But if our approach is detected, and we have to escape, then my men and I will be forced to fend for ourselves.'

  'I expected nothing less, Prince.'

  'Just as long as we understand each other, Roman.'

  'I don't think there's any doubt about that,' Macro concluded, and eased himself back from the shrub, towards the slope behind them. 'Come on, we'd better rejoin the column.'

  The three men crept out of sight of the city and then descended to the men behind the ridge. The infantry had been permitted to fall out of line and were resting in whatever shade they could find, or had made their own by hanging their cloaks over their yokes and javelins. The horsemen, Roman and Palmyran alike, sat in the shade of their mounts, holding the reins in one hand. They had approached the ridge early in the morning and halted while the three commanders ascended the slope to reconnoitre.

  When they had rejoined their men the column trudged forward again, moving behind the line of the ridge until they reached the spur, where they halted, shortly before noon.

  'Why are we stopping?' Macro demanded.

  'Look.' Balthus gestured to the dust cloud hanging over the column. 'We can't afford to give any sign of our presence. The ridge is high enough to conceal us from the watchmen on the walls of the city, but once we climb across the ridge they might see any dust we kick up. So, we must stop and wait until dusk before moving on again.'

  'Very well,' Macro conceded. 'Until dusk.'

  When a watch had been posted up on the ridge they rested under the glare of the midday sun, and once the blazing orb had sunk sufficiently from its zenith Macro gave the orders for the men to prepare for the night march to the east gate. All portable equipment was removed from the carts and distributed to the legionaries and auxiliaries. The small
stock of construction timber and spare javelin shafts was used to make stretchers for the wounded and several assault ladders. Meanwhile, Cato gave orders for his cavalrymen to bind the hooves of their mounts with strips of cloth cut from their cloaks.

  'You won't be needing them tonight.' He forced himself to smile at Centurion Aquila and the other cavalry officers. 'If we succeed, there's a nice warm billet waiting for you in the citadel at Palmyra. If we fail, well, I doubt we'll need our cloaks in Hades.'

  A lame joke, he knew, but his officers smiled appreciatively enough. Despite his youth Cato had led men long enough to know the value of a light touch and apparent fearlessness. He left Aquila to carry out his instructions and returned to Macro. There was one last task to organise.

  A message had to be got through the enemy's lines so that the king and his followers were ready to admit the small relief column into the citadel. It was obvious that one of Balthus' men would have to be the courier and once again the two Roman officers were instinctively distrustful of their new ally.

  'I don't like it,' Macro grumbled. 'I know he helped us out with those horse-archers, but I still find it hard to turn my back towards the man. And the moment we head towards the gate, we're in his hands. If he should betray us, we've had it.'

  'True.' Cato nodded. 'But there's no reason why he should betray us. He has as much at stake as we do in seeing that the revolt is put down. My main worry is that the Parthians might cut a better deal with him than Rome can. I think you're right. We have to watch our backs.'

  'Fine words don't make fine actions, Cato. What are we going to do about it?'

  Cato thought for a moment, and did not like what seemed to be the best course of action. In fact, the prospect of what he was about to suggest terrified him. Yet, at the same time, there was a peculiar thrill at the danger of it all, and he realised – quite suddenly – that he was getting a taste for taking risks.There was some perverse facet of his nature that craved danger, and he wondered if this desire was so strong that it threatened to corrupt his reason. He felt a wave of revulsion and contempt for himself. If that were true then he had no right to command other men; to have responsibility for their lives. They would be safer under another man's command. That thought made his decision much easier.