The Legion Page 7

  Petronius breathed in sharply and briefly considered the demand. ‘I’ll give you six more ships. But only for one month. That’s as long as I can spare them.’

  Cato considered the offer. Eight ships in all should be enough to deal with Ajax and his men, but the limited time was a problem. ‘One month might not be enough.’

  ‘That’s all you have. After that I want you and your men to join the command of the legate of the Twenty-Second at Diospolis Magna. I suggest you get moving, Prefect.’

  CHAPTER SIX

  ‘It’s like hunting for a grain of sand in a sack of salt,’ Macro complained as he followed Cato and Hamedes along the strip of shingle towards a handful of beached fishing boats. ‘Bloody Ajax is all but invisible.’

  ‘We will find him,’ Cato replied evenly. ‘Whatever it takes.’

  ‘It’s not whatever that matters, but whenever. The month is almost up, Cato. If we don’t find him in the next five days we will have to give up the search.’

  ‘I am well aware of that, Centurion.’

  Macro pressed his lips together in a thin line. The failure to find Ajax had tested his friend sorely, and Cato had recently developed a strategy of referring to Macro’s rank when he grew weary of discussion or did not want to be contradicted. So they continued in silence walking steadily down the beach towards the fishermen, who were absorbed in the task of plucking the writhing silver fish from their nets and tossing them into baskets. Hamedes went first, ready to speak to the natives in their own tongue and reassure them that the three of them posed no threat. The priest had willingly volunteered to join the hunt when Cato had asked him to act as their guide and translator. The temple at Keirkut had been his life. Recruited to the priesthood when barely a child, it was the only family he had ever known and the desire for revenge burned in his veins.

  Cato and Macro wore only their tunics and belts, with the dagger scabbards tucked out of sight behind their backs. Hamedes wore the simple flowing robe of the fellahin. The fishing boats had been sighted by one of the skiffs that Cato had sent in to patrol the Mendesian mouth of the Nile. The rest of the flotilla lay in a shallow cove by the sea. Cato and the others had landed out of sight of the fishermen and removed their armour before approaching them.

  Due to the predations of Ajax, it had been difficult to gather any intelligence from the smaller Egyptian settlements along the coast. At the first sight of a Roman sail, or men in Roman uniform, the villagers had simply fled. The only news that Cato had gleaned from the locals had come from chance interceptions of the few vessels that had dared to put to sea, and the handful of times when they had been able to approach people without causing them to run and hide, as now.

  ‘They’ve seen us,’ Macro muttered as one of the fishermen looked up when they had closed to within a hundred paces. At once the man called out to his friends and they dropped their nets and snatched up their clubs and gutting knives. They were torn between abandoning their catch and running, or staying to confront the three men approaching them. There were twelve of them, Macro counted, odds of four to one, if there was any trouble. The fishermen were thin and sinewy and were not professional fighters. Even so, the overwhelming advantage in numbers lent them sufficient courage to stand their ground as they warily watched the three men making their way towards them.

  ‘Tell them we mean no harm,’ Cato said to Hamedes. ‘We want to buy their catch, and talk.’

  Hamedes nodded and called out a light-hearted greeting. The nearest of the fishermen replied sharply, holding out his hand, clearly commanding them to stop. There followed a brief exchange before Hamedes spoke softly to Cato. ‘I’ve told them who we are. The one speaking for them is the headman of their village. He asks if we are alone. I said we are.’

  Cato nodded uneasily and hoped that the marines he had left back at the skiff did as they were told and kept out of sight. ‘Ask him if he has seen any other Romans recently.’

  There was a lengthy exchange in which the headman jabbed his hand downriver. A moment later the priest turned back to Cato. ‘A warship entered the mouth of the river several days ago. It stayed for the night and left the next morning.’

  ‘Which direction did it take?’

  ‘West.’

  ‘Towards us?’ Macro frowned. ‘We never saw it.’

  ‘It must have slipped past us in the dark,’ said Cato. ‘Or they sighted us first and turned back, or went and hid along the coast. Assuming it was Ajax, that is.’ He reflected briefly. ‘It has to be him. We’re supposed to be the only naval forces operating along the delta.’

  Cato gestured towards the fishing boats, small craft made from bundles of reeds, tied together with ropes. ‘Ask him if we can buy some of their catch.’

  Hamedes translated and the other man cautiously beckoned them closer. Cato kept his hands out, where they could be seen clearly, and walked towards them. The dark eyes of the fishermen watched him closely and they drew back into a loose semi-circle as Cato and his companions approached the baskets. Scores of fish flipped about inside, and others opened and closed their bony mouths, as if gasping. More fish struggled in the nets. Cato gestured to them.

  ‘Tell him we didn’t intend to interrupt their work. They can continue, while we talk.’

  With suspicious glances at their visitors, the fishermen went back to expertly plucking the catch from the folds of their nets while the headman conversed with Hamedes.

  ‘He asks how much we wish to buy.’

  ‘One basket will do.’ Cato took the purse off his belt and took out some of the silver coins that Petronius had issued to the flotilla to pay for supplies. ‘Here, ten obols.’

  The headman’s eyes momentarily lit up and then his face formed a dismissive expression.

  ‘He says twenty. He has many mouths to feed in his village. If he sells his catch, some will go hungry tonight.’

  ‘Bloody haggling,’ Macro growled.

  ‘Twelve,’ Cato responded to Hamedes. ‘It’s a fair price. Tell him.’

  The headman shook his head.

  ‘Fifteen. He says he’s robbing himself. But he can see that you are a good man, so he makes this price just for you.’

  ‘Fifteen obols,’ Macro puffed irritably. ‘Does he think we’re complete fools?’

  ‘Shhh,’ Cato hissed. ‘Fifteen it is.’

  He counted out the coins and handed them over. The headman palmed them quickly and shoved them into a dirty linen haversack on the nearest of the boats.

  ‘Tell him there’s another five obols for him if he can tell us if he has heard anything about the location of the men who have been raiding the coast. Ask him if he has any idea where they might be hiding.’

  The headman thought for a moment before responding.

  ‘He says he will tell you what he knows if you pay him ten obols.’

  ‘Cheeky bloody sod!’ Macro chuckled. ‘Cato, do you want me to persuade him to offer us a discount?’

  ‘No. We need all the goodwill we can get. Let’s not do Ajax’s work for him, all right, Centurion?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  Cato handed over some more coins and waited for Hamedes to interpret.

  ‘He says that a village was attacked on the next tributary to the west two days ago. Most of the villagers managed to escape, and fled to his village. That’s why there are many more mouths to feed.’

  ‘We must have missed something,’ said Macro. ‘Perhaps he didn’t slip by us after all. Sir, we should turn back and search to the west.’

  Cato was silent for a moment. His ships had scoured the coastline between Alexandria and here at the Mendesian mouth of the Nile. Every bay and inlet had been explored. Aside from the occasional evidence of one of Ajax’s earlier raids, there had been no trace of the fugitives. It was possible that they had scuttled their ship and ventured deeper into the delta but Cato felt convinced that his enemy would not risk abandoning the warship, his only means of escape to sea. If the headman’s information was accurate, th
at left two possibilities. Either Ajax had abandoned the delta and sailed north across the Mediterranean, or he had concealed his ship well enough to escape the eyes of Cato’s flotilla.

  ‘We’d better get back to the ships. Hamedes, give him my thanks, and tell him that we will not rest until we have destroyed Ajax. Then his people will be free to live in peace.’

  The headman shrugged. ‘He says that between the danger of Ajax and the burden of Roman taxes, what peace can a man hope for? There is no freedom. Not for the fellahin.’

  ‘Not much we can do about that,’ Macro said dismissively. ‘Here, give me a hand with this basket.’

  Hamedes made their farewells and took up the woven handle on one side of the basket while Macro took the other. Then, with Cato following, deep in thought, they made their way back down the narrow beach towards the point where the skiff and the marines lay out of sight.

  ‘At least we’ll have fresh meat on the menu tonight,’ Macro mused happily as he glanced at the fish.

  ‘They’ll make good eating,’ Hamedes grunted as he adjusted his grip.

  ‘They’d better. I’d wager they’re about the most expensive fish ever caught in Egypt,’ Macro concluded ruefully.

  That night, the crew of Sobek ate fried Nile carp, while the men of the other ships drawn up on the beach sullenly chewed on their hard tack. Cato and Macro were eating from their mess tins by the light of a cheery blaze of palm logs. Hamedes sat cross-legged on the far side of the fire, reading a prayer scroll he had borrowed from a temple in Alexandria. The fish, roasted over the fire, had been delicious, Macro reflected happily as he lowered his mess tin and licked his fingers. He glanced at Cato, and saw his face in profile, washed in a warm red glow, in deep concentration. Macro patted his chest and burped. ‘Excuse me.’

  ‘Hmmm?’ Cato looked round absently.

  ‘Ah, so you are still with us.’

  ‘Yes. Of course.’ Cato lowered his mess tin, and Macro saw that a good half of the fish remained. He gestured towards it. ‘You finished with that?’

  Cato nodded.

  ‘Then do you mind if I, er . . .’

  ‘Help yourself.’

  Macro nodded his thanks and tucked in.

  ‘Something’s not right about what we were told by those fishermen, ’ Cato announced quietly. ‘I’m certain we searched the coast thoroughly, and we didn’t find any trace of Ajax, or the ship.’

  ‘Obviously we didn’t look hard enough,’ said Macro, between mouthfuls.

  ‘It’s possible. But if I was in Ajax’s position, I would pick a base as far to the east of Alexandria as possible, away from the fleet.’

  ‘If you were Ajax, surely you would want to be in striking distance of the main shipping lanes?’

  ‘I’d not want to be within striking range of Alexandria. I’d want to be somewhere well off the main routes, away from settlements and with a clear escape route to sea if I needed to get out quickly. Somewhere well to the east of Alexandria. So we’re not going back on our tracks tomorrow. We’ll continue to the east.’

  Macro swallowed quickly and set the mess tin down. ‘Why? You heard them today. The most recent attack was to the west, and that’s where they saw that ship heading.’

  ‘True, I don’t doubt what they say they saw, but I can’t convince myself that Ajax is hiding in that direction. It doesn’t make sense. Look, Macro, you know the man better than me.’

  ‘Thanks for the reminder.’

  ‘Ajax is as smart as new paint. He’s also determined to cause us as much trouble as possible. You and me in particular, given that he blames us for the death of his father. Using our names was a nice touch.’

  ‘You two know him then?’ Hamedes interrupted, lowering his prayer scroll. ‘You knew his father? How so?’

  Macro smiled. ‘Our man Ajax wasn’t always a gladiator. In his earlier life he was a pirate, like his father, Telemachus. The prefect and I were part of the expedition sent to defeat Telemachus. We did the job. The pirate chief was crucified and his son was sold into slavery along with the rest of the prisoners we took. Only it turns out that he was picked to train as a gladiator before some fool bought him as a bodyguard and took him to Crete. Right now I wish we had nailed the bastard up alongside his father. We could have saved ourselves all this grief, and be back in Rome.’

  ‘But we didn’t,’ Cato cut in. ‘And now we must finish the job we started long ago. As I said, Ajax is clever, and he’s consumed by hate. But I doubt he would throw his life away in some reckless act of revenge. So he will have a plan to clear out of the Nile delta if there’s a danger he could be trapped here. That’s why I think he is further to the east.’ Cato unrolled his reed matting and lay down, pulling his cloak over him. ‘In the morning, we sail east to Casium and then work our way back towards Alexandria.’

  The next day the fleet put out to sea and steered east under full sail. A stiff breeze was blowing and the trierarch of the Sobek advised Cato to give the order to take in a reef in order to relieve the strain on the sail, mast and rigging. They were close to the deadline that Petronius had set for abandoning the search and Cato was determined to make the most of the time that remained. He ordered the trierarch to remain at full sail, and signal the rest of the ships to follow suit.

  As the sun sank over the horizon, the flotilla reached the small port of Casium and spent the night taking on water and fresh provisions. At dawn, they set sail, heading back towards Alexandria. It was Cato’s intention to search the coastline thoroughly. If Ajax was hiding anywhere, it would be along this stretch of the delta. He was sure of it.

  The Sobek cleared the harbour mole as the sun glinted above the eastern horizon. Hamedes lowered himself on to his knees to face the sun and stretched his arms out, eyes closed as his lips mumbled a prayer. He was not alone. Those of the crew who shared his beliefs followed suit and performed the ritual as quickly as possible before returning to their duties. The sails were set, and the sheets hauled in and cleated. The priest, whose rites were more involved, continued for a while longer before he rose to his feet and stretched his shoulders. He caught Cato’s eye and there was the briefest of pauses before he smiled a greeting.

  ‘I have offered prayers to Isis that you find what you seek today.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Cato nodded. ‘I think I need all the help I can get.’

  ‘Sail in sight!’ the lookout’s cry interrupted them.

  ‘Where away?’ called the trierarch.

  ‘Dead ahead, sir!’

  Cato hurried forward and was joined by Macro, the trierarch and Hamedes a moment later. The western horizon was clear. For a while they stared hard, then Cato thrust out his arm and pointed. ‘Over there!’

  The others followed his direction and, as the Sobek lifted on a swell, there was a tiny gleam of white, then it was gone. The trierarch turned and raised his head towards the lookout. ‘Can you make her out? Is it a warship?’

  There was a long pause before the reply came. ‘No, sir. Too small. Looks like some kind of a fast yacht. Yes, sir. I’m sure of it. She’s altered course and is making for us.’

  ‘A yacht?’ Macro scratched his chin. ‘Wonder who’s in such a hurry to find us.’

  ‘More to the point, why?’ asked Cato. ‘Trierarch, alter course towards that vessel.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  The warship swung towards the yacht and the two vessels closed quickly. Less than an hour later, a young Roman officer, who Cato recognised as one of Petronius’s tribunes, climbed on to the deck of the Sobek and strode towards Cato.

  ‘Urgent despatch from the governor, sir.’ The tribune held out a leather tube with the governor’s seal securing the cap. Cato took the tube, broke the seal and took out a small scroll of papyrus. Moving to the side of the ship, he unrolled it and read through it quickly, then again to be quite sure about the contents of the message. He rolled it up and gestured to his friend. ‘Macro, on me, please.’

  ‘What is it, sir?’ Macro asked
in an undertone once he had joined Cato.

  ‘The Nubians have crossed the frontier. They’ve invaded Egypt. Petronius has ordered the Twenty-Second to advance up the Nile to Diospolis Magna. He aims to mass all his available forces there before moving against the Nubians.’

  ‘Which means he wants us to return to Alexandria at once, I take it.’

  ‘Yes.’ Cato clenched his fist round the scroll, crushing it. ‘It seems that we are obliged to abandon the hunt for Ajax.’

  Macro’s heart felt leaden with disappointment and looking at his superior he could see that Cato shared his bitterness. Macro cleared his throat. ‘It’s just for now, sir. We’ll continue the job once the Nubians are dealt with. We’ll find the bastard, don’t you worry. He’ll pay for what he did to me, and to Julia. I swear it, on my life.’