The Legion

'Yes… Quite a fight.'

'What happened? I saw some men making off as we arrived. Ajax?'

Cato nodded. 'He still lives. I wounded him. His men drew him away when they saw you.'

Macro stared down the street. 'Then what are we waiting for? Let's go after the bastard before he gets away.'

'No,' Cato responded firmly. 'Not now.'

'Why the fuck not?' Macro's brow furrowed. 'We're as close to him as we've been in months.'

'We wait until first light,' Cato said firmly.

'What?'

'That's an order,' Cato snapped. 'I've lost enough men to ambushes already without blundering about in the darkness. I'll not gift Ajax any more Roman lives than I can help. We rest here tonight. Tend to the wounded and let the men slake their thirst. Ajax and his band are just as tired, and have their own wounded to take care of. They'll not go far in this darkness. We can continue the pursuit at dawn.'

'This is madness,' Macro said quietly.

Cato stiffened and drew a calming breath. 'You forget yourself, Centurion.'

'My apologies, sir,' Macro hissed through gritted teeth. 'But we have to go after them.'

'No. I've made my decision. We see to our own first. Have your men gather our wounded. They'll find 'em in the village and over there,' Cato pointed towards the dyke where Rufus and his men had attempted to outflank the renegades. Whatever trouble Rufus had run into, there was no sign of his men, although the wounded were making themselves heard well enough. Cato winced at the sound. 'See to it, at once.'

'Yes, sir. I think our priest friend Hamedes has some skill with healing. I'll set him to work.' Macro looked searchingly at his friend. 'And you, sir. Are you all right?'

'Fine. I'm fine.' Cato swallowed. 'Just need some water. Now see to the others, please.'

Macro nodded and turned away to shout the orders to his mixed force of marines and legionaries. They were also stripped down to the essentials and, like Cato's force, they were exhausted and parched. But their rest and refreshment would have to wait, Macro grumbled to himself in frustration as he summoned two sections and set up a perimeter of sentries across the path at the end of the village, in case Ajax decided to cause any further mischief. Not that he was likely to. The gladiator was too shrewd. He was a man who knew how to pick his battles, thought Macro. The gladiator struck when he had the advantage, and held back when he did not. When he did give battle he fought with utter ferocity and ruthlessness. Were it not for the irremovable stain of the barbaric way Ajax had treated him, Macro might have found it in his heart to admire his enemy. In another life, Ajax would have made a fine legionary.

'Shame he has only got one life,' Macro muttered to himself. 'And I'll be taking that.'

'Sir?' One of his men looked at him curiously.

'What?'

'Sir, I didn't quite hear the order.'

Macro cleared his dry throat. 'I said keep a good watch, or those bastards will cut your throat before you know it.'

Macro turned and made his way back towards the heart of the village.

Cato was sitting on the edge of a stone trough, watching the casualties being brought in from the dyke. Most had run on to the concealed stakes when Rufus had given the order to charge. A number had been struck by arrows as well and Cato realised that the ambush had cost the Romans dearly. Centurion Rufus came limping in, clutching a hand to his thigh. Blood seeped through his fingers. He saw that the wounds of his men were tended to and made his way over to report to the prefect.

Cato stood aside to let Hamedes bend down and examine the centurion's injury. The priest took out his canteen to wash the wound and then reached for a strip of linen from his shoulder bag. 'What happened?' asked Cato.

'The bastards set a line of sharpened stakes from the dyke to the village,' Rufus told his superior. 'They were hidden in the long grass. First we knew about it was when one of the men stumbled on to one. The fool couldn't keep his mouth shut and I wasn't close enough to see what had happened, so I gave the order to charge, while there was still some chance of surprising them.' He winced. 'Before I knew it we had run right into the stakes. I got one in the leg almost at once. By the time the men stopped, most of us had been injured. That's when they hit us with arrows.' Rufus paused briefly and shook his head. 'There was nothing we could do, sir. Some men tried to get out of the way of the arrows, and ran into more stakes. I told the boys to stay put and shelter behind their shields as best they could. I figured our best chance was to wait for the enemy to cease shooting and then work our way out of the stakes.'

Cato frowned, furious with himself for underestimating Ajax. Rufus misinterpreted his expression.

'There was nothing else I could do, sir. I swear it.'

'I understand.' Cato quickly ran a hand through the matted locks of his hair. 'What is the butcher's bill?'

'Eight dead, and sixteen wounded. Three of those won't last the night. Eight are walking wounded. The others will need to be carried out of here.'

Cato looked down at his boots to hide his face. He had led his men into the trap. He had been too keen to get to grips with the enemy. Men were dead because of him and he felt shame at their loss.

'Very well,' he said quietly as he composed himself and looked up. 'Make sure you have that leg wound properly seen to. Then have the village searched for food and water. The men can eat their fill and rest. We'll continue the pursuit at first light.'

'Yes, sir. And what about the wounded? We can't leave them here.'

'I'll detail some of the men to bring them up behind us. Hamedes here can help out. That's all for now, Rufus.'

It was a curt dismissal and Cato sensed the man's resentment as he saluted and turned to limp back to join the rest of his men. Cato looked at Hamedes. 'Ajax killed the people of this village. Are there any rites that you need to perform for the dead?'

Hamedes stared blankly back at Cato. 'Sir?'

'You're a priest. Do what is necessary for them. Once you've finished treating the injured.'

'Yes, sir.' Hamedes bowed his head. 'I'll offer the prayers. There's no time for the full funeral rites. But we must burn the dead.'

'I thought you people believed in burial.'

Hamedes smiled uncertainly before he replied. 'Depends how much time you have.'

'Very well, tell Macro to lend you a few men to get the job done.'

Hamedes nodded and turned to follow in the footsteps of Rufus, making for the wounded lying in the street.

As he stared at the legionaries, Cato wondered how many of them would realise that he was to blame. How many would resent him and be wary of following him into the next fight?

He turned at the sound of approaching boots and saw the unmistakable stocky bulk of Macro emerging from the darkness.

'Sentries are posted, sir. I've told them to keep a good watch. Don't want anyone catching us unawares. The lads are clapped out so I'll be changing the watch regularly during the night.'

Cato forced a smile. 'So you won't be getting much rest then.'

'I suppose.' Macro shrugged. 'Nothing I'm not used to.'

'And you didn't sleep last night either.'

'True, but I've put up with worse before. Many times.' He gestured towards Cato. 'As have you.'

'I don't think I'll be sleeping much tonight either.'