The Legion

'No. There's a chance that the sail might be seen. Use the oars.'

'It'll take longer,' the captain protested. 'And it'll be tiring work.'

'You'll use the oars,' Cato insisted, and went forward to sit just in front of the mast. Macro and Junius joined him and the legionaries sat on the deck, keeping clear of the two sailors who unshipped the long oars and began to stroke the barge out into the black water of the Nile. They rowed across the current and slowed down to creep forward once they approached the far bank. Ahead, the fire was starting to die down and an odd glow outlined the walls of the fort, dark and gaunt against the wavering light.

Cato turned and called softly back to the captain. 'Get your boat as close to it as you can. If we have to leave in a hurry, I don't want to run any further than I have to.'

The captain grumbled a sour reply and steered the barge along the riverbank. They passed a few small houses whose dwellers slept on, unaware. Once the barge was as near to level with the fort as Cato could judge in the darkness, he ordered the captain to steer in, aiming for a narrow stretch of earthen bank. Having seen one crocodile strike from the concealment of reeds, Cato was fearful of repeating the experience. The barge grounded softly and gently jolted the soldiers. Cato stood up, took off his sword belt and removed his helmet and scale vest.

Macro stared at him. 'And what do you think you're doing, sir?'

'We're not going into a fight, just scouting.' Cato picked up his sword belt and slipped the strap over his head. 'What are you waiting for?'

With a sigh Macro followed suit, and a moment later so did Junius. Cato turned to him. 'Not you.'

Junius paused. 'Sir?'

'You're staying here.'

'I was told to come with you, sir.'

'And I'm ordering you to remain here. I'm leaving you in charge of the boat. Make sure that the captain doesn't get cold feet. If we come running, I want the men ready to hold the bank until we reach the boat. Is that clear?'

'Yes, sir.'

Cato slipped over the side of the barge and splashed into the calf-deep water. He made his way ashore and up the bank to the edge of the long grass that grew there. Macro joined him a moment later and then they set off towards the fort, no more than half a mile away. They reached the edge of a wheat field and picked their way through the crop and then encountered a wide irrigation ditch, with reeds growing along each side. Cato paused, listening.

'What is it?' Macro whispered.

'I… nothing. Let's go.' Cato was about to climb down into the reeds when there was loud splash and something large rustled through the reeds a short distance to his left. At once Macro drew his sword. They both froze for a moment.

'What was that?' Macro asked.

'Without seeing it, I'd guess it was a crocodile. I think we should find a way round the ditch.'

'Crocodile?' Macro quietly put his sword away and muttered, 'Good idea.'

They followed the ditch for a quarter of a mile without finding its end, or any means of crossing it. Cato fumed at the time they had wasted and decided to double back. Perspiring freely in the warm air, they retraced their steps until they came across a narrow footbridge supported by a crude wooden trestle.

'After you, sir,' said Macro.

'Thanks.' Cato tested his weight on the narrow plank and found that it bowed slightly. Taking each step carefully, he crossed over and waited for Macro before continuing towards the fort, They were close enough now to hear the crackle of the dying flames. Cato paused.

'I can't hear any voices.'

Macro strained his ears. 'No. Nothing. Looks like I was wrong about it being an accident.'

'If the enemy took the place, then why aren't they still here?'

'Maybe it was a hit and run raid,' Macro suggested.

Cato nodded. 'Perhaps. Let's get a closer look.'

They reached the bottom of the knoll and began to climb towards the fort. The acrid smell of burning filled the air and as they neared the gate, a new odour was added to the stench: burnt flesh. The gatehouse had collapsed and the two officers cautiously poked their heads round the side of the ruined arch. Cato winced as the heat struck his face, forcing him to squint. The interior of the fort had been destroyed by the blaze and by the light of the small fires that still burned he saw the blackened, twisted shapes of bodies.

'That's proof enough for me,' said Macro. 'They were attacked. And no raiding party would have dared take on a fort like this. It might be small, but even so it would present too much of a challenge.'

'I agree. We'd better report back to the legate.'

At that instant a voice cried out in the distance. A rising ululation. It continued for a moment and then stopped.

'That came from the direction of the boat,' said Cato. 'Let's go.'

They hurried down the slope and entered the field they had crossed a moment earlier, following their trail back through the trampled wheat. Then another cry rose up in the darkness, behind them now, some distance beyond the fort.

'Shit,' Macro hissed. 'Whoever that is, there's more than one of 'em.'

They reached the far side of the field and then entered some long grass. This time it was impossible to determine which direction they had come from. Looking at the dull mass of the distant hills to their left, Cato estimated the direction they should take and they set off again. Another cry came from ahead, closer, and was quickly answered by another some distance behind, and then another, away to their left.

'Right, now I'm starting to worry.' Macro spoke in an undertone. 'We'd better get a move on, before any more turn up.'

But Cato was still. 'They can't be hunting us.'

'Why not?'

'How would they know we're here?'

'Maybe they saw us by the fort. Let's think it through later on, eh?' Macro nudged his arm.

Cato nodded and they set off again, moving more quickly, ears and eyes strained to detect any sign of the enemy, or whoever might be making the strange noises. They crossed back to the other side of the irrigation ditch and were heading across the fields towards the grass and the river beyond when Cato heard a harsh grunt to their left, and the soft padding of feet. A voice called out, 'Huthut!'

'Camels?' Macro guessed.

Cato increased his pace to a trot and they both hurried across the last stretch of the field and entered the grass. Almost at once they blundered into a crouching figure. Macro wrenched his blade out and leaped forward, knocking the man down. He was about to strike when a familiar voice gasped, 'Sir! It's me, Junius!'

'Junius…' Macro rose up, lowering his blade a fraction. 'Shit. I almost killed you.'

Cato was furious the moment he recovered from his surprise. 'What the bloody hell are you doing here? I told you to stay with the boat.'

'Sorry, sir. I heard someone calling out a while back. I thought it best to investigate.'

'You don't think. You do as you are ordered.'

The sound of camels grew louder and now they could hear voices as their riders talked to each other.

'They're almost on us,' Macro growled. He thrust Junius forward. 'Move. Back to the boat.'

The three officers ran on through the long grass, making for the river, Junius stumbling in the lead, Macro next, holding his sword ready, and then Cato, constantly glancing over his shoulders for signs of the camel riders searching for them. Then they emerged from the grass and the broad black expanse of the Nile lay before them. Macro glanced both ways and then thrust his arm to the left. 'There's the boat. Come on!'

Cato came out of the grass and saw it, no more than two hundred paces away. As they broke into a run along the riverbank, the swish of grass sounded and their pursuers closed in. They had run half the distance when Junius stumbled and sprawled forward with a loud cry of alarm.

Macro bent down, grasped the scruff of his tunic and yanked the large youth back on to his feet.