The Eagle In the Sand - Scarrow Simon - Страница 12

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'It's Bannus,' Symeon said quietly.

As Cato threw his straw hat aside and jammed his helmet on to his head he looked at their guide in surprise. 'You know him?'

'We've met before.'

'As friends, I hope.'

'We were friends, many years ago.' He glanced quickly at Cato. 'But not now.'

'You might have mentioned this before,' Cato muttered.

'I didn't think it was important, Centurion. Besides, you didn't ask.'

'If we get out of this, I think there might be a few questions I'll want answers to.'

Bannus reined his horse in when he was a short distance away and smiled as he recognised the guide. He addressed him in Greek.

'When my men told me about the archer in the fort, I should have guessed. These Roman soldiers are not welcome here, but peace be with you, Symeon of Bethsaida.'

'And with you, Bannus of Canaan. How may we be of service to you?'

'I want those two Roman officers surrendered to me. You and the others can return to Jerusalem, after we have disarmed you.'

Symeon shook his head.'You know that is impossible. You would dishonour me, and my family.'

Bannus stared at him a moment before he continued. 'For the sake of the old days, I will ask you again to hand over those two men, and your weapons. I would not have your blood on my hands.'

'Then stand aside and let us pass.'

'No. Those two have slain three of my men in Jerusalem.They must be executed to serve as an example to the people of Judaea.'

'And what of me? I slew three of your men at the fort.'

'My fight is with Rome, Symeon. As yours should be.' He stretched out his hand. 'Join us.'

'No.'

Bannus let his hand drop, and turned his attention to the men of the cavalry squadron. 'Surrender these two officers to me and you will live. Now lay down your arms!'

Macro nudged Cato.'Who does he think he's fooling? He'd kill the auxiliaries the moment he'd taken their weapons.' Macro took a breath, drew his sword and shouted towards Bannus.'If you want our weapons, come and get them!'

'Shhh!' Cato hissed. 'Who do you think you are – Leonidas?'

Bannus glared at them a moment, then nodded his head in farewell to Symeon and turned his horse to gallop back up the slope towards his men. Macro called the decurion over to them. 'What are our chances?'

'None, if we stay put and try to defend ourselves. We have to charge, cut our way through and run for it. Just give the order, sir. But do it now, before they attack.'

Macro nodded. 'Let's go.'

The decurion turned back to his men. 'Form tight wedge!'

As the horses shuffled into position, Macro and Cato fastened their helmet straps, untied their baggage and tossed it aside. Symeon reached for his bow and carefully unwrapped it, strung it, then loosened the end of his quiver. By the time the three men joined the formation Bannus had reached his men and was barking out a string of orders. He had positioned slingers and archers on either flank, and in the middle, astride the track, stood a band of swordsmen on foot, mostly poorly armed and carrying wicker shields. Some had helmets and leather cuirasses. A short distance behind them, right on the crest of the ridge, stood Bannus and his horsemen, armed with a mix of spears and bows. As soon as he saw the slingers begin to fit stones to their pouches Cato turned to the decurion.

'Now! Give the order now!'

The decurion nodded, drew a breath and called out. 'Squadron! Advance!'

The rough wedge formation rippled forward, the auxiliaries grasping their reins tightly in the hand behind their shields. In the other hand they held their spears, vertically, so as not to risk injury to their comrades before they made contact with the enemy. Above them, on each flank, the slingers were starting to whirl their weapons up above their heads, as the archers drew their bows. Cato found himself angrily willing the decurion to order his men to charge forward, before it was too late. Then he chastened himself. The decurion was a professional, and knew his business.

'Squadron, at the trot, advance!'

His men kicked in their heels and the formation lurched forward, just as the first ragged volley of slingshot and arrows arced into the air. The abrupt change of pace confounded the brigands' careful aim and most of the missiles clattered on to the ground a short distance behind the wedge. A handful of shots found the shields of the rearmost men. One horse whinnied in terror as an arrow plunged into its rump. It reared up, but the rider managed to keep his seat and urged his mount back into the formation.

'Charge!' the decurion cried out from the front of the wedge, stabbing his sword into the air. His men roared out their battle cry, kicked in their heels and the wedge surged forward. In the second rank, Cato and Macro gripped their reins and hung on grimly as their mounts flowed onward with the rest, manes and tails streaming. Dust and grit filled the air as the charge burst up the slope towards Bannus and his brigands. From the flanks the attackers aimed more arrows and slingshot at the Romans and this time more missiles found their targets. Ahead to his left Cato saw a stone strike the head of one of the auxiliaries. The blow knocked the man's head to one side and his spear, shield and reins dropped from his nerveless fingers, causing the horse to swerve. Then the rider toppled to one side and the riderless horse galloped on regardless. To his right Cato caught a glimpse of Macro, grim-faced, and bending forward as low as his saddle horns would allow. Beyond him was Symeon, superbly poised as he notched an arrow and raised his bow, ready to shoot.

Ahead of them Bannus raced down to his footmen and urged them to hold their ground. But the sight of the oncoming cavalry proved too much for some, and they melted away, rushing out of the path of the horsemen. Then, before Cato realised it had happened, they crashed into the enemy line. Abruptly the air was filled with the scrape and clatter of weapons, grunts and cries from the men, snorts and whinnying from the horses. There was a blur low and to his right and Cato thrust his sword towards a lithe man in a dirty turban. He ducked aside, the tip of the sword grazing his shoulder. With a snarl he slashed back at Cato with a thin curved blade and Cato wrenched his sword back just in time to block the blow with his guard. Then Cato cut down, striking the turban hard with the edge of his sword. The material absorbed the cutting force of the blade but the weight of Cato's blow knocked the man senseless and he collapsed into the dust swirling about the feet and hooves of those locked in the deadly skirmish. Cato glanced round. Macro was slashing at a pair of swordsmen, shouting insults into their faces as he dared them to fight him. Symeon drew an arrow, swivelling in his saddle as he swiftly notched a bead on his target, and released the string.The arrow flew ten paces through the air, punched into a man's chest and burst out of his spine in a bloody welter of torn flesh.

'Forward!' Cato shouted. 'Don't stop! Go forward!'

The decurion glanced back, nodded, and took up the cry. His men urged their mounts on as they fought free of the brigands, and as soon as they were clear they surged up the last stretch of the slope towards the waiting horsemen. Bannus drew his sword and grasped a round shield tightly across his left side as he shouted an order to his followers.With a cry they launched their mounts forward, down towards the auxiliaries.The wedge formation was long broken and now the Romans charged in a ragged mass. The two sides came together in a swirl of gleaming swords, horseflesh, flowing robes and glinting armour. Without a shield Cato felt horribly vulnerable and he hunched down, sword held low as he urged his horse through the melee, trying to break through the brigands. He could hear Macro roaring above the din. 'Cut through them! Cut through!'

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