The Eagle In the Sand - Scarrow Simon - Страница 19

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Miriam stood her ground. 'You will not bring them into my house.'

Bannus turned back to her. 'Miriam, you are a healer. My men need your skills. You will treat them, or I will start providing you with patients from amongst your own people, starting with… young Yusef over there. Boy! Come here. Now!'

The floorboard above Cato squeaked as Yusef stepped outside and hesitantly approached the brigand leader. Bannus took him by the shoulders and looked down at him with a smile. 'Such a fine boy. His father would be proud of him. Prouder still, if he joined with me and fought to liberate our lands from Rome.'

'He will not join you,' said Miriam.'That is not his path.'

'Not today. One day, when he is old enough to choose for himself, maybe he will join me and make Jehoshua's vision become a reality. One day. But for now, Miriam, you must choose. Treat my men, or I will cut one of the boy's fingers off.'

Miriam glared at him, and then her shoulders sagged and she nodded. 'Bring them to my door. I will treat them there.'

'No, inside. They would welcome the shade.' Without waiting for her to answer Bannus thrust Yusef to one side and shouted orders. As Cato watched, the brigands dismounted and started helping several men into the house. Above him the floorboards creaked under the weight, and dislodged dust and grit fell on top of Cato and Symeon. A door squeaked on its hinges and with a start Cato realised that someone was entering the room where he had lain on the bedroll.

'Oh, shit,' he whispered.

Symeon looked at him in alarm and raised a finger to his lips.

'My sword,' Cato said as softly as he could.'It's behind the bedroll.'

'What?'

'I took it from the scabbard and hid it there.'

'Why?'

'I wasn't sure about Miriam, and the boy. She told me the Romans killed his father.'

Symeon frowned at him. 'You're in no danger from Miriam and her people.'

'Shit.' Cato stared at him, then his eyes turned to the hatch beneath the mattress and he looked at it in horror. Any moment now one of the brigands might spot the sword, and know that a Roman had been there. Or worse, they would fling back the mattress to reveal the hatch.There was nothing he could do about it, so he and Symeon sat as still as they could and waited. He felt his heart pounding, and the splitting headache and sickness returned so he had to concentrate his will on fighting off the pain and the urge to groan or cry out.

'Put him on the bedroll,' Miriam said. 'Get me some water.'

This was it, Cato thought. Any moment now, the injured man would feel the hardness of the sword handle through the bedding.

Footsteps thudded overhead, and they heard Bannus speak.'Don't talk in Greek, Miriam. Some of my men are simple peasants.They only know the dialect of the valley.'

They continued speaking a form of Aramaic and Cato glanced at Symeon. 'What?'

Symeon raised his hand to quiet the Roman and cocked an ear towards the ceiling as he strained to hear what was being said. There were many voices talking now, and feet moving overhead as the men's wounds were treated.Time seemed to slow to a crawl, so that Cato was aware of every instant that passed as his ears filled with the sounds from the room above his head. He willed Miriam to treat the men as swiftly as she could, to get them out of her house, and out of the village.

As the light outside began to grow dim there was a shout from the street and immediately a commotion in Miriam's house as the men piled outside and Bannus bellowed a series of orders. Symeon nudged Cato. 'They've spotted a column of Roman cavalry heading for the village.'

'Macro. It has to be.'

Symeon shrugged. 'I sincerely hope so.'

Bannus' men began to carry the wounded out towards the horses. Then, as they helped them into the saddles, there was a cry from the man on the bedroll. His wounds had made him weak and he paused for breath before he gasped a few more words.

'He's found your sword!' Symeon hissed. 'When they come back for him they'll see it.'

Cato thought quickly, and then winced as he knew what had to be done. He crept over to his equipment, fumbled for his dagger handle and drew the blade. The hatch was old and weathered, and brittle, and Cato summoned up all his energy, grasped the dagger with both hands and punched it up through the hatch, tearing through the wool padding of the bedroll and into the back of the injured man. He heard a faint explosive gasp and his blade was tugged as the man twisted for a few moments before slumping back. Cato sensed no further movement through the handle. He twisted it slightly and wrenched the blade free. Then he crouched down and waited. Shortly afterwards someone padded lightly into the room and paused an instant before moving over to the man on the bedroll.

'Saul!' Bannus shouted from outside.'Get the last man. In the back room.'

'Yes, sir.'

Footsteps thudded overhead and then they heard Miriam say, 'It's too late. He's dead.You'd better take him with you.'

'Bannus! He's dead,' the man shouted. 'Should I bring his body?'

'Leave it. We have to go. Now!'

Out in the street the brigands wheeled their horses about and began to ride past the house on their way out of the village. More dust obscured the view, and Cato and Symeon could feel the vibrations of the pounding hooves through the earth around them. The sounds quickly receded.There was quiet for a moment, and then Miriam grunted with effort as she shifted the body off the mattress. The hatch was slid to one side and she peered into the hole.

'You can come out now. The Romans will be here any moment.'

07 The Eagle In the Sand

Macro was fuming. Centurion Postumus had him over a barrel. Without written authorisation from the imperial palace he had no power to oust the temporary commander of the Second Illyrian. So when the officers began to turn up, as Macro had instructed, he had to sit in embarrassed silence while Scrofa sent them away again. Not for the first time that day, he cursed Bannus and his brigands with the most heinously dire and painful torments imaginable. Because of the ambush, his letter of appointment was lying out there somewhere in the desert. Worse still, it might have fallen into the hands of Bannus' men as they rifled through the baggage that Macro, Cato and the cavalry squadron had been obliged to abandon. Macro cringed with shame at the thought, even though there had been no alternative in the circumstances. They had barely escaped with their lives on unladen mounts as it was. Indeed, Cato was not yet out of danger. Thought of his friend spurred Macro on and he stood up and approached Prefect Scrofa's desk.

'Sir?' he said as respectfully as he could. 'I accept that I cannot produce my orders, and that means you are entitled to hold on to your command. But you must send men out to search for Centurion Cato. Before Bannus finds him.'

'Must I?' Scrofa smiled coolly. 'As you so rightly pointed out, I am still in command. I don't have to do a thing that you say.'

Macro clasped his hands behind his back and forced himself to nod gently as he fought back his anger and frustration. Anger would only make this man obdurate. 'I know that, sir. But I'm thinking about how this will look back in Rome when word gets out that the commander of the Second Illyrian sat and did nothing while a comrade was hunted down and put to death by a bunch of brigands. It would tarnish the cohort's image for ever, and perhaps the reputation of the commander as well.'

Prefect Scrofa stared up at him in silence for a moment and then nodded. 'You're right…That would be most unfair to my men.' Then Scrofa's eyes narrowed a fraction as he sat back and stared blankly at the opposite wall. 'It's bloody unfair. I served my time as a tribune on the Rhine. I've worked my way up through the junior civil appointments, and spent good time and money cultivating the right contacts at the palace.' He looked at Macro suddenly, his eyes flashing with bitterness.'Do you know how much I paid to have sturgeon's eggs served at a dinner I gave for Narcissus? Well do you?'

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