'What the hell do you think you're doing? It's pitch black down there. You go flying into the tunnel and the first man that falls will break his bloody neck, and the rest of you will trip over him and go the same way. Get a fire going and make up some torches.' He turned to Cato with a disgusted look. 'Idiots.'
'Quite right.' The legate nodded as he peered into the dark tunnel. 'We'll need illumination. Plenty of it.'
The last of the daylight faded in the heavens as the soldiers gathered some dry branches of vegetation that clung to cracks in the rock. One of the archers produced a tinderbox and struck his flints until he managed to coax a tiny flame on to the thin slivers of charred linen in the box. The fire quickly took once the flame was presented to the kindling and soon the cliff above the entrance was aglow with the light from the flames that crackled up from the fire burning a short distance from the mouth of the tomb.
'Twenty men should suffice,' Aurelius decided. 'And I'll take a section of archers. If the tunnels are straight, they should be able to get a few shots off if they get the chance. Make sure we have plenty of torches, Macro.'
'Yes, sir.' He gestured to the tightly bound bundles of dry twigs and brush piled to one side. 'I've already seen to that.'
'Good man.' Aurelius nodded approvingly, his gaze fixed on the entrance to the tomb. Macro realised that the legate was rapidly losing his enthusiasm to lead the party now that he found himself staring into the dark hole, wherein lurked a small group of desperate and deadly fugitives.
'I'll lead the men, if you like, sir,' Macro suggested quietly. 'No need for you to come.'
The legate tore his gaze away from the tomb and frowned at Macro. 'Certainly not. A legate should share the same dangers as his men. Otherwise he is not fit to command them.'
'Yes, sir. Shall we begin then?'
'Yes… Yes, of course.' Aurelius strode across to the bundle of torches and picked one up. He lowered it into the fire and let it catch light, then stood by the steps leading down to the tomb entrance. Macro lit another torch and detailed two of the archers to go first, one with an arrow notched, the other holding a torch. Macro was about to follow them when Cato paced over to pick up a torch.
'You'd better stay here, sir,' Macro said firmly.
Cato shook his head. 'I'm coming.'
'Not with that arm in a sling. The first stretch of the tunnel looks steep. We'll need to keep a hand spare to stop stumbling. You'll only get in the way, sir. Be more of a hindrance than a help.' Macro meant it in a kindly fashion but Cato shot him a sour look.
'Thanks. But if you think I'm prepared to sit by while you go up against Ajax, then you're mad.'
'The centurion's right,' Aurelius interrupted. 'You'll stay here with the rest of the men until it's over. That's an order.'
Cato's lips pressed together in a thin line for a moment before he responded through clenched teeth. 'Yes, sir.'
He backed away and sat on a rock that overlooked the cut steps. He watched sullenly as the archers entered the tomb, then Macro descended the stairs, followed by Hamedes. Cato cleared his throat and called down.
'Take care, Macro… Watch your back.'
Macro looked up at him briefly and grinned, then he passed out of sight. The legate followed Hamedes into the tomb, then came the rest of the auxiliaries and archers, several of them carrying lit torches. The last man, bearing a coil of rope over his shoulder, entered the tunnel and the bright glow of his torch wavered and faded and then there was only the faint scrape of iron-nailed boots on the floor of the tunnel and echoed comments which gradually faded away. Cato sat still for a moment, uneasy with the burden of his fears and suspicions. Then he glanced irritably down at his arm in the sling and slowly eased it free and attempted to flex it. At once there was a red-hot shooting pain through his shoulder joint and he groaned and stilled his arm. When the pain had receded, he eased the sling back on and looked down at the pitch-black entrance to the tunnel. Whatever happened in the tomb, there was nothing he could do about it now. Without Cato being aware of it, his left foot began to twitch in an agitated rhythm as he settled back on his rock and waited for Macro and the others to return.
The passage was wide enough for two men to walk abreast, but the incline was steep and Macro found that he had to step cautiously down the pitted rock surface to avoid slipping. By the wavering and flaring light of his torch and the one ahead of him held by the archer, he could see that the walls of the tunnel were painted with detailed depictions of the native gods and kings. Sometimes the kings, wearing the combined crowns of the upper and lower Nile realms, were making offerings to the gods. In other images they were leading their armies to war. The images were interspersed with the incomprehensible but strangely beautiful script of the ancients that Macro had grown used to seeing on the religious buildings that dotted the province. The air in the tunnel was warm and damp-smelling and the further they went down into the rock, the more the walls and roof seemed to close in about him. It was an illusion, he told himself. He had never liked enclosed spaces and the fact that Ajax and his men lay in wait ahead only added to the burden of apprehension that settled on Macro.
They had gone at least a hundred paces when the floor of the tunnel evened out slightly and made the going easier. Macro glanced back to make sure that the others were not too bunched up, and then gave the order for the party to halt. The echoing footsteps slowly died away and the tunnel fell silent.
'What is it?' Aurelius whispered. 'Why have you stopped?'
'To listen, sir.' Macro touched his finger to his lips and then cocked his head to one side and stood still, straining his ears to detect any sound of movement from ahead above the rasp of his own breathing. At first there was nothing, then a faint rustling and soft whispers that made the hair rise up at the back of Macro's neck. He eased himself forward, past the archer holding his bow ready. The lead man held his torch out in front of him and was staring intently down the tunnel. The gently wavering hue cast by the still torch lit up the way ahead for a good twenty paces. Then, just as it faded into the darkness, there was a black outline as the tunnel gave out on to a wider space.
'Seen anything moving down there?' Macro whispered.
'I thought so, sir.'
'Thought so?' Macro growled. 'You did, or you didn't. Which?'
The archer swallowed. 'I-I did, sir. Sure of it.'
Macro nodded, and shuffled back past the second archer. 'Be ready to shoot the moment you see any of 'em.'
As he returned to his original place in the line, Macro passed on the order to draw swords and make ready, then he hissed at the leading archer to continue down the tunnel. The line of men moved cautiously towards the opening. The glimmer of the torch revealed that their path continued downwards but there was darkness where the chamber opened out with a pit on either side. As Macro emerged into the space, he raised his torch and looked round. The builders of the tomb had cut out a cube, roughly forty feet in each dimension, through which a ramp-like walkway passed at an angle. The precision of the angles and dimensions appeared eerily perfect. On either side of the ramp there was a drop of about twenty feet, and by the light of the torch Macro could make out the spoil and rubbish that had been abandoned in the tomb by successive robbers and the curious who had dared to explore the darkened tunnel over the centuries.
'Watch it!' the leading man cried out as he ducked. An arrow whirred over his head and struck the next man in the right arm. He cried out and let go of the arrow string and his shaft skittered across the ramp. He staggered back, and the men behind him instinctively ducked down or moved aside as they anticipated another arrow.