The Legion

'You're the one in charge of the watch, right?' Macro glared at the optio as the latter quickly rose from amongst the men sitting around the fire.

'Yes, sir.' The young soldier nodded.

'Then you're responsible for this getting into our bloody tent.' Macro shook out the tunic and the two lengths of the cobra's body flopped on to the ground. The optio instinctively took a step back and his face wrinkled in nervous disgust. There were surprised murmurs from the other men as they craned their necks and saw the dead snake.

Macro turned and pointed towards the tent. 'The prefect is inside. There is supposed to be a guard patrolling outside the tent to ensure nothing happens to him, right? No enemies, or other threats, get past. I mean that's standard regulation, even here in Egypt.'

'Yes, sir.'

'So where is the sentry?' Macro made a show of looking around and giving up and raising his hands. 'Well?'

'I'm sorry, sir.' The optio swallowed. 'I had a man either end of the camp. I didn't think it would be necessary to post any more than that.'

'Two men?' Macro shook his head. 'The province is in a state of war, and before you say it, I don't care how far away the Nubians are. That's no excuse for sloppy watch-keeping. Let me guess. You're with the Twenty-Second Legion?'

The optio nodded.

'Oh great…' Macro took a pace closer and held his finger an inch from the optio's face. 'I want a proper watch posted every night. It is your duty to protect the camp and protect your officers and you have fucked up, my son. The fact is, either the prefect or myself or even both of us could have been killed and the fault would be yours.'

'But sir. Even if there had been a sentry, the snake could have got into the tent.'

'Shut it! You know what your duty is. I suggest you stick to it, or I'll be disturbing your night by kicking your arse so hard your teeth will fall out.' Macro took a step back, and prodded the snake's body with his boot. 'I'll leave you to get rid of this.'

He was about to return to the tent when the captain of their barge squatted down by the snake and shook his head. 'They don't usually give us any trouble when we camp. Your tent must be pitched near one of their nests.'

'You mean there could be more of them nearby?' Macro fumed.

'No. They're solitary creatures. Unless their young are hatching, of course.'

'Well, thanks for that. I'm bound to get a good night's sleep now, aren't I?' He turned back to the optio. 'Make that two sentries outside the tent.'

'Yes, sir.'

Macro turned and marched back to the tent and pulled the flap shut behind him. He tossed the tunic back to Cato as he crossed to his bedroll and slumped down. 'Bloody optio's from the Twenty-Second. Seems like you were right to be worried about 'em.'

Cato was sitting cross-legged on his bedroll, deep in thought. He shook his head and glanced round. 'Sorry?'

'I said you were right about the Twenty-Second being a bit slack.'

'Oh, yes.'

'Hello, Cato.' Macro waved his hand. 'Still with us?'

'Just thinking.' Cato ran a hand through his hair. 'About the snake. If there's one thing I really can't stand, it's snakes.'

'Why so particular? They're just like everything else in this province: crocodiles, mosquitoes and snakes – never content unless they're sinking their bloody jaws into someone. Fuck 'em. I'm going to try to get back to sleep.' He glanced over at Cato and continued in a more gentle tone. 'So should you. Best get as much rest as you can before we reach Diospolis Magna.'

'Yes, you're right.' Cato eased himself down and lay still, staring up at the roof of the tent. After a while he shut his eyes and lay there listening intently to every sound of the night. Although Macro lay still and silent on his side, he did not snore and Cato realised that his friend's mind was as troubled as his own.

Macro blinked his eyes open and for a moment frowned. The last thing he remembered was being unable to get to sleep, and lying still for what seemed like hours. Well, sleep had come to him in the end, he mused. Dawn was breaking outside and a shaft of light pierced the tent through the open flap. Macro turned over and saw that Cato's bedroll was empty.

He sat up and stretched his arms, yawning widely before smacking his lips. Rising to his feet, Macro saw a dark dry patch in the light-coloured soil in front of the tent post and immediately recalled the scene the previous night when he had cleaved the cobra in two, and pursed his lips sourly. Emerging from the tent, Macro saw his friend sitting on a palm log a short distance away. He was staring out across the misty river, the stopper from an amphora in his hands. A short distance away lay the remains of a broken amphora.

'Up early, or couldn't you sleep?' Macro called out as he strode over to join Cato.

'Not much chance of anyone sleeping when you start snoring.' Cato tossed the stopper aside into the grass. 'At least we weren't troubled by anything else last night. That's something to be thankful for.'

Further along the shore the other passengers and the crews from the boats were rising and rolling up their bedrolls ready to continue the voyage upriver. Hamedes approached them, carrying his kitbag over his shoulder.

'Morning, sirs. I heard there was some excitement last night.'

'You could say that,' Macro replied.

Hamedes tossed his bag down and squatted in front of them. 'The optio told me about the snake just now. Seems you had a close escape. The venom of the Nile cobra can kill a man within the hour. You're very lucky, sir.'

'Funny, I thought I was unlucky that it happened at all.'

The priest tilted his head to one side. 'Perhaps it was an omen. A message from the gods. A warning perhaps.'

'Then again, perhaps it was just a bloody snake which took a wrong turning.' Macro stood up and pointed to two of the legionaries standing by the nearest fire. 'You, and you. Get the tent down and stowed. Make sure the bedrolls are put on the same boat.'

Cato turned to Hamedes and was silent a moment before he spoke. 'A message? I think you might be right.'

'Oh?' A brief look of surprise flashed across the priest's face.

'Yes,' Cato continued. 'We seem to have been dogged by bad luck ever since we began our hunt for Ajax here in Egypt. I'm beginning to wonder if we've offended some of the local gods. You're the man with the expertise here, Hamedes. How do we go about appeasing your gods? Who should we offer prayers to? What sacrifice should we make?'

Macro glanced at his friend. 'Since when did you come over all religious?'

'There's been plenty of times in the last few months when fortune has played us false, Macro. It could be mere coincidence, but I doubt it. On one or two occasions, perhaps, but as often as we have endured it, then a man is right to suspect that the gods, or someone else, are playing their hand.'

Macro puffed his cheeks, not quite sure how to respond. 'You really think an offering is necessary, sir?'

'It would give me some peace of mind,' Cato admitted. 'Will you see to it, Hamedes, on our behalf?'

'Of course, sir.'

'As soon as you can.'

'I will do what I can. The rites associated with good fortune and warding off bad luck were beyond my remit, sir. I was entrusted with more basic offerings. But I will find out for you when we reach Diospolis Magna and I can consult the priests there.'

Cato stared at him and then nodded. 'Very well, that will have to do.' He took a deep breath and stood up. 'Meanwhile, let's get the convoy under way again. The sooner we reach our destination, the better.'

The convoy continued up the river, passing beyond the delta on to the single expanse of water that flowed through the heart of the great desert that stretched west from the Erythraeum Sea across the continent and formed the southernmost boundary of the Empire. From the river Cato could see the rocky scarps that rose up beyond the narrow belt of cultivated land spilling out beyond both banks of the Nile. Between stretches of reeds and palm trees he saw great numbers of fields tended by peasants and tilled by oxen drawing heavy ploughs as they turned over the dark silted soil that was the source of the province's great wealth. Before the time when Rome had coveted the fertile farmlands of Egypt, such wealth had funded the ambitions of the Ptolemies, and before them the ancient lineage of the old Pharaohs dating back to time beyond record.