The Legion - Scarrow Simon (электронная книга .txt) 📗

'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.

'Just give us away, why don't you? Idiot.'

'Sorry.'

Macro kept his fist bunched in the man's tunic and hurried him on. Cato brought up the rear. The tribune's cry had alerted the men and they let out a shout as they spotted their prey running along the riverbank. Glancing to his left, Cato could see several of them riding through the grass, as they made to run down the Romans.

Cato realised there was nothing to be gained from trying to be quiet any more and he yelled out towards the boat, 'Legionaries! On me!'

The soldiers snatched up their shields and clambered over the side and began to struggle up the bank, just as Junius and Macro reached the top and half ran, half slid down towards the water. Cato was a short distance behind them when a camel lurched out in front of him. He dodged round, ducked beneath the long curve of its neck and ran on. The rider shouted in alarm and drew his sword with a dry rasp. But he had reacted too late and Cato was already stumbling down towards the boat, the legionaries falling back with him as they presented their shields to the other riders who had appeared on top of the bank. One of them leaped down from his saddle, landed heavily and then rushed down the slope, crashing into the shield of a legionary. He gave a sharp grunt as the Roman thrust his sword into the rider's gut and then wrenched it free. Beyond, Macro heaved Junius aboard and then rolled over the side on to the deck. Cato clambered aboard and bellowed to the legionaries to follow him. The barge captain and his men were already easing the barge away from the riverbank with one of the long oars. The legionaries turned and splashed into the shallows and scrambled aboard.

There was a crack on the deck close by Cato and he instinctively ducked before he had the presence of mind to shout out a warning. 'Watch out!'

Another arrow whirred through the air close overhead. The barge lurched free of the silty river bed and was caught by the flow of the water and started to drift downriver. The crew hurriedly placed the oars into the rowlocks and strained to get the craft away from the bank. An arrow splashed into the water close by, then another struck the deck. Moments later there was a soft whack and one of the legionaries gave a cry as he collapsed on to the deck, while his shield landed awkwardly and tumbled over the side. Cato saw an arrow shaft projecting from just below the man's neck. The soldier reached for it with both hands, making a ghastly gurgling noise. His boot scraped across the deck for a moment before his struggles eased and stopped and he lay in a slowly expanding pool of his own blood. More arrows splashed into the water behind them before the enemy realised their target was out of range and ceased shooting.