CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
‘As good a fortification as any,’ Ajax decided as he
slapped the stone parapet at the top of the pylon. ‘This will serve
us well.’
Karim looked down at
the thick walls of the temple, and the tall outer walls of mud
brick. He had a good eye for a defensive position, nurtured during
the years he had served his Parthian lord long before he had been
captured, sold into slavery and encountered the gladiator. The
temple was compact enough to be held by Ajax’s men and the small
column of Arab warriors that Prince Talmis had placed under his
command. It was also unusual by the standards of most other temples
in that there was only one entrance in the outer wall, and that was
protected by a strong gatehouse. It was almost as if the place had
been designed with a military purpose in mind, he thought. Just as
well then that only a handful of priests had been inhabiting the
temple when the column had arrived at dusk. Their bodies had been
thrown into one of the offering rooms.
‘Indeed, my General.
The site was well chosen by our spy, Canthus. The Roman dogs will
have a hard time taking it from us. Or driving us
out.’
Ajax noted the wary
tone in his companion’s voice and smiled. ‘Rest easy, Karim. We are
here to act as a diversion for the Prince. It is not my intention
to make a last stand. When the time comes, we will make good our
escape. In the meantime, our orders are to tie the Romans down for
as long as possible.’
Karim was quiet for a
moment before he asked, ‘Do you trust him?’
‘Prince Talmis? About
as far as I could spit him. However, it serves our purpose to aid
him for now.’
‘And his purpose to
sacrifice us, perhaps?’
Ajax turned and
smiled at his companion. ‘Do you have so little faith in me? Do you
think that I am blind to the possible dangers of serving the
Nubians?’
Karim bowed his head.
‘My apologies, General. I did not doubt you. Only the word of the
Prince.’
‘What is there to
doubt? He has promised us nothing but the chance to wage war on
Rome, and what spoils of war we may choose to take. I care little
for the latter, though I am sure most of the men will be pleased to
help themselves to gold and any trinkets they take a fancy to. No
doubt Talmis considers that we were cheaply bought, but the chance
to strike a heavy blow against Rome is all the treasure I seek.
Before, we were twenty fugitives. Now the Prince has given me these
five hundred men.’ Ajax gestured down into the outer court of the
temple where the black-robed warriors were tethering their camels
in the twilight. The nasal groans of the beasts carried up to the
top of the pylon, almost drowning out the shouts of a couple of men
fighting over the ornate robes of a priest looted from the
temple.
Karim stared at them
for a moment. ‘Let us hope they show more discipline when the time
comes to face the enemy.’
‘That test comes
tonight,’ said Ajax. He turned and stared towards the Nile. The
distant outline of a small fort and signal tower was visible on a
mound a little over two miles away. There had been no sign that the
garrison had spotted Ajax and his column as they had approached
from the west, out of the desert. On the far bank, a short distance
downriver, the Roman army would still be ignorant of their
presence, and even when the alarm was sounded, it would be some
hours before they could land a strong force on this side of the
Nile. Ajax smiled. His spy inside the Roman camp had already proved
his worth. Ajax had details of the strength of the Roman army and,
even better, information about its senior officers. It was good to
know that the two Roman officers he hated with all his heart were
close at hand. He had only made one demand of his Nubian ally, that
if Macro and Cato were taken alive, they would be delivered into
his hands. Ajax resolved to have them crucified - just as they had
crucified his father. The prospect filled his heart with
satisfaction. He indulged the feeling for a moment before pushing
the thought from his mind. Thoughts of revenge must give way to the
need for swift action, Ajax reminded himself.
‘Karim, I will leave
you with three hundred men. I want you to complete the
fortification of the temple, and post some patrols out towards the
river.’ He pointed to a small village that was within long arrow
shot of the temple. ‘Destroy that, once you have searched it for
any food.’
The Parthian
nodded.
‘You have your
orders. I should be back with the other men some time after the
third or fourth hour of the night. Be sure that your sentries and
the patrols know that. I would not be killed by an arrow shot by my
own men.’
‘That would be
regrettable,’ Karim replied, deadpan.
Ajax laughed and
slapped him on the arm. ‘Until later, my friend.’
Night had fallen and
the warm air was filled with the shrill cry of cicadas, rising and
falling as the whim took them. The last of the evening breeze
stirred the leaves of the palm trees, making a constant rustle that
served to disguise the sound of footsteps as Ajax and his men
cautiously approached the fort. The walls rose above them, black
against the velvet indigo of the starry night. He had decided to
lead the attack with the men of his bodyguard. They would enter the
fort and then open the gates for the rest of the assault force,
hidden amid small fields of wheat and irrigation ditches that
stretched out around the mound. The inhabitants of the houses
closest to the fort had already been silenced so that none lived to
raise the alarm.
Ajax felt the
familiar swift flow of blood in his veins as he braced himself for
action. He quietly drew his sword and turned to his men to whisper,
‘Let’s go.’
He rose into a crouch
and began to make his way up the gentle slope towards the fort.
Near the crest he could see the small outcrop of rock that
supported a section of the wall. Here the wall was no more than ten
feet high, just as Ajax had been promised by his spy. Staying low,
he and his men moved closer. Then Ajax saw a movement on the wall
as a sentry, with a faint sheen of starlight on the curve of his
helmet and the blade of his spear, paced slowly by on his round.
The gladiator went to ground, waving his men down. Staring up
intently, he waited until the sentry had disappeared beyond the
corner of the fort, and then he continued forward. When he reached
the wall, Ajax waited for his men to catch up and then crept along
until he came to the edge of the rocks. Feeling his way carefully,
he climbed over them until he reached the point where a large flat
boulder stood below the wall. One by one the rest of his men
climbed up and spread out on either side. When they were all
present, Ajax indicated to the tallest and broadest of his men, a
Celt named Ortorix who had once fought as a heavily armoured
Mirmillion in the arenas of the eastern Empire. Ortorix stood with
his back to the wall and his knees bent, and then cupped his hands
together. Ajax placed his boot in the Celt’s hands, stretched his
arms up the wall and whispered, ‘Ready.’
With a light grunt,
Ortorix heaved him up and as Ajax’s boot came level with his
shoulder, he gritted his teeth to edge him up still further.
Keeping his weight as close to the rough surface of the mud-brick
wall, Ajax groped towards the parapet. Then, as his fingers found
it and curled over the edge, he let Ortorix raise him a bit further
before locking an arm over the wall. He felt some of it crumble
away and prayed that it would hold long enough for him to get a
decent purchase on it. Then he swung his leg up, scrambling over
the rim and rolled on to the walkway.
At once he rose to a
crouch and looked around the interior of the fort. It was
constructed in a rough square. A signal tower stood opposite the
gatehouse. There were several small accommodation blocks built
against the walls. Like the houses of the peasants, they had simple
roofs of palm fronds to provide shade while allowing the air to
circulate. A cooking fire burned in one hut and the smell of
roasting meat wafted on the night air as a handful of soldiers
talked in the easy way that men do when danger is furthest from
their minds. There were voices coming from the other blocks, and
the deep regular drone of snoring close by. The sentry patrolling
along the wall had just passed through the gatehouse and was moving
away from Ajax. The outline of another sentry stood at the top of
the tower gazing out towards the Nile.
Satisfied that he had
not been detected, Ajax leaned over the wall and gestured to the
men below. Ortorix heaved the first one up and Ajax caught his
hands and pulled him over the wall.
‘Get over to the
gatehouse. Stay out of sight.’
The man nodded and
hunched down as he made his way along the walkway. Ajax turned to
help the other men up and he had ten over the parapet by the time
the sentry approached the corner to turn on to the same length of
wall.
‘Wait,’ Ajax
whispered. ‘Stay down until I come back.’
He glanced down below
the parapet and saw that there was a pile of straw and a mule
tethered to a post. Resting in the straw was a fat auxiliary
soldier, hands folded together across his bulging tunic. The dark
shape of a wine jar lay next to him. Glancing up, Ajax saw the
soldier reach the corner. There was no time to look for another
place of concealment and he eased himself over the side of the
walkway and dropped down into the straw. It rustled briefly and the
mule started with a low bray.
‘Hrrrmmm . . .’ The
auxiliary stirred and smacked his lips. ‘Whatsmatter?’
He began to struggle
up on his elbow and Ajax drew his sword and threw himself on top of
the man, clamping his left hand over the auxiliary’s mouth. He
rammed his sword into the man’s stomach, point angled up under the
ribs. There was a muffled cry and the man arched his back, nearly
throwing Ajax off. As he worked the blade ferociously from side to
side, Ajax smashed his forehead down on to the crown of the
auxiliary. The man abruptly went limp and slumped back into the
straw. Ajax thrust up towards the heart once more to make certain
and then wrenched his blade free. He could hear the footsteps of
the sentry approaching. Ajax hurriedly eased the body back into a
reposed position and threw some straw over the bloodstain on the
tunic. Then he buried himself beside the man and lay still. The
sentry came closer and then the sound of his steady pace
stopped.
‘What, Minimus, no
longer sleeping?’
Ajax, heart beating
wildly against his chest, drew a breath and grumbled, before making
a guttural snore as near to the sound of the fat man as possible.
The sentry laughed and continued on his way and Ajax carried on
snoring until he could no longer hear the footsteps. Then, easing
himself up from the straw, he climbed back on to the wall and
resumed hauling his men over the rampart. Ortorix came last, heaved
up by Ajax and two more of his men, gritting their teeth as they
tried not to groan with the effort. With the Celt and the others,
Ajax hurried along the walkway towards the gatehouse. The sentry
had not emerged from his last circuit and they discovered his body
slumped to one side as soon as they entered the low
tower.
‘Once we get the gate
open, get stuck in and make as much noise as you can,’ Ajax
ordered. ‘Understood?’
They nodded to him in
the gloom and then he made his way over to the narrow stairs
leading down into the fort. Emerging from the tower gatehouse, Ajax
gestured to Ortorix to help him and they tried to ease the locking
bar into its receiver without making any noise. The sentry in the
tower straightened up from the rail and turned away from the Nile
to gaze down into the fort. He seemed to be staring directly
towards the gatehouse and Ajax realised that he was looking for the
other man on duty. He cursed himself for not ordering one of his
men to take the sentry’s place and continue his beat. Too late for
that now, he thought bitterly.
‘They’ll be on to us
any moment,’ he said softly to the Celt. ‘Let’s get this bastard
opened up.’
They heaved the bar
back and grasped the heavy iron rings and pulled the doors inwards.
There was a deep groan from the hinges and the sentry in the tower
leaned towards them briefly before cupping a hand to his
mouth.
‘To arms! To arms!’
His voice echoed down inside the fort. ‘We’re under
attack!’
Ajax thrust his sword
up, angled towards the barrack blocks. ‘Get in there! Kill them!
Kill them all!’
With a deafening
shout the gladiator and his bodyguards charged forward. Behind them
in the darkness another cry went up and hundreds of shadows leaped
from cover and ran up the slope towards the open
gates.
Ajax raced ahead of
his men, making for the line of small buildings to the right.
Already the defenders were stumbling out into the night, clutching
the first weapon that came to hand, a mixture of swords and spears.
None wore any armour or helmets, he noted, giving them no edge over
their attackers. A shape rushed out of a door directly in front of
Ajax so that he cannoned into him. Instinctively he stabbed his
blade high into the man’s chest as they collided and the soldier
fell away with a pained cry as Ajax stumbled over him. He regained
his balance just in time to parry the spear thrust aimed at his
throat by another auxiliary who had turned at the sound of his
comrade’s cry. The auxiliary swung the butt of his spear round and
punched it towards Ajax, glancing off the side of his head and
grazing his scalp. The pain enraged the gladiator and he charged
forward, inside the reach of the spear, and caught him by the
throat with his left hand, crushing his fingers into the soldier’s
windpipe. The auxiliary dropped his spear and clawed at Ajax’s hand
and then he spasmed as the sword blade punched into his guts
repeatedly. Thrusting him aside, Ajax glanced round and saw that
his bodyguards were cutting down the defenders across the interior
of the fort. Caught by surprise, and assaulted by men who were the
best trained killers in the Empire, they stood little chance. Then
there was a rush of sandalled feet as the Arabs burst into the fort
and joined the unequal struggle.
‘We yield!’ a figure
cried out a short distance ahead of Ajax. ‘We surrender! Drop your
weapons, men!’
Those outside the
fight, and just emerging from their quarters, began to throw down
their weapons. There was a last ring of blades and a groan and then
a pause in the fighting.
‘No quarter!’ Ajax
bellowed. He lurched forward, cutting down a stick-thin veteran. As
the mortally wounded auxiliary tumbled to the ground, Ajax lunged
at the fort’s commander, a squarely built man with thinning hair.
The centurion ducked to avoid the strike and snatched up his blade,
twisting to strike Ajax as he rushed past. The blow missed and Ajax
spun round, braced his feet apart and faced the Roman.
‘Die!’ he bellowed,
and then launched a savage sequence of blows. The centurion parried
desperately and then threw up his sword as Ajax made a cut towards
his head. At the last moment Ajax switched his angle and the edge
of his well-honed blade cut right through the centurion’s wrist and
on down into his shoulder. The sword clattered to the ground, still
in the grip of the hand, and the centurion fell back with a howl of
agony. Ajax stood over him, grinning in triumph, then leaned down
and slashed open his throat, leaving the man to shake as his blood
pumped out of the severed arteries and pattered across the ground
beside him.
Ajax looked up and
saw that the fort was in their hands. Not one of the Romans was
still on his feet and his men stood over the bodies, breathing
heavily as the battle rage began to ebb away. Ortorix laughed
nervously. ‘We did it, lads.’ He punched his sword into the night
sky and bellowed the war cry of his Gallic forefathers. The others
followed suit and then one of them called out Ajax’s name and his
companions took up the chant. Around them the Arabs bent over the
corpses of the Romans, and hurried inside the barrack blocks,
searching for loot.
Ajax nodded at his
men with satisfaction. ‘Good work! Now let’s finish the job. Torch
the place!’
As the column headed
away from the fort, back towards the temple, Ajax paused to view
his handiwork. Bright flames licked up from inside the walls,
illuminating the small knoll upon which the fort stood, and casting
a wavering glow over the fields and palms for a short distance
around. The timbers of the signal tower were consumed by a tracery
of flames and then there was a soft burst of crackles as the
thatched roof caught fire and went up in a fierce but short-lived
explosion of light. Moments later one of the tower legs gave way
and the structure lurched to one side, then slowly toppled into the
heart of the fort with a burst of sparks. The sound of its crash
reached Ajax’s ears an instant later.
‘A fine sight,’
Ortorix muttered happily at his side. ‘Warms the heart, so it
does.’
Ajax could not help
smiling at the comment and patted the giant on his
shoulder.
‘That’ll be hard to
miss from the other side of the Nile,’ said Ortorix.
‘Yes. I think we can
safely say that we have announced our arrival. Now let’s see what
the Romans do about it.’