Centurion

The auxiliary cohort tramped out of the camp gates and marched towards the road leading to Palmyra. It was not yet noon but the sun beat down on the parched earth without mercy and the familiar clinging dust was scraped up by the nailed boots of the soldiers and the hooves of the horses and hung in the air like a faint mist.

As they turned the corner of the fortress Cato saw that Macro's cohort was already formed up on the track, waiting. As the Second Illyrian marched up to join the end of the column Macro rode towards Cato and raised a hand in greeting.

'What kept you?'

Cato raised his eyebrows and replied good-humouredly. 'We came as fast as we could, sir.'

Macro frowned at his tone, and Cato realised that his friend was once again the consummate professional at the prospect of action.

'I'm sorry, sir. We won't delay you again.'

'Make sure you don't.' Macro turned and nodded down the track stretching out ahead of them. 'We're going to have the hardest of marches, and then a fight at the end of it, Cato. Make no mistake about it, this is going to be the toughest campaign we've ever known.'

08 Centurion

CHAPTER SEVEN

Macro led his two cohorts at an unflagging pace into the parched hills east of Antioch. By day the sun blazed down mercilessly on the small column, and at night the temperature dropped sharply so that the men shivered as they gathered round their campfires and chewed on dried meat and hard bread. The first evening the men grumbled bitterly about having to sleep in the open and then after an uncomfortable night they were back on the road while the stars still glittered in the velvet darkness. For the first two days he permitted them only the briefest of rests at midday and by the time the column stopped, when there was no longer light to see the way ahead the men were too tired to complain about the lack of tents.They simply stumbled into rough sleeping lines, dropped their kit and curled up on the ground, falling asleep almost at once. There they lay, until stirred to take their turn on watch duty.

The orders from Longinus were explicit on the need for speed. Macro was to march for as many hours as he could, and was not to construct a marching camp at the end of each day. As a soldier who had many years of campaign experience Macro was wretchedly disturbed by the need to sacrifice security for celerity. In order to compensate for the lack of a ditch and rampart he doubled the watches every night and posted cavalry vedettes for good measure. The burden of extra watch-keeping duties compounded the exhaustion of the day's march and by the third day a small number of men had begun to straggle, and did not catch up with the main body until late in the evening.

'This can only get worse,' Cato muttered as he watched the dark figures of the last men to arrive fumble through the dark lines stretching out across the rock-strewn ground, searching for their units.'In a day or two they will no longer be able to catch up with us. They'll be strung out along the route. Easy pickings for any bandits, or the enemy.'

'Can't be helped,' Macro replied, and then yawned as he eased himself back against his saddle bag and arranged his heavy military cloak across his body. 'There's bound to be a few slackers in any cohort. A few days of marching always finds them out.'

'Slackers?' Cato shook his head. 'I saw some good men fall out of the column this afternoon. If we keep this pace up then those who actually make it as far as Palmyra will be in no shape to fight.'

'Oh, they'll fight,' Macro replied confidently. 'Or they'll die.'

'I wish I shared your optimism.'

Macro turned towards Cato and in the faint loom of the stars Cato could see his friend's amused expression.

'What? What's so bloody funny?'

'Who said I was an optimist? I'm just telling you how it is. How it has always been for a soldier on campaign. You think we had it hard in Britain? That was a walk in the forum compared to the desert.This land is as much a danger to us as the enemy. Once we reach Chalcis we'll have over a hundred miles to go before we arrive at Palmyra.' Macro rolled on to his back and tucked an arm beneath his head. 'This is the easy part, Cato.You wait until we reach the open desert.Then you, and the men, will really have something to complain about. Almost no chance of finding any water on the way, according to the governor's instructions. The men will have to carry enough water to last five, maybe six, days when we leave Chalcis. I have no idea what condition they'll be in when we reach Palmyra. But I do know that they will have the fight of their lives.'

'Then it might be advisable to give them some opportunity to rest before they fight,' Cato persisted. 'These double watches are not helping things.We're still a long way from Palmyra.'

'Cato, you saw how easily that Parthian prince and his men slipped through our outposts and turned up on the governor's doorstep.' Macro jerked a thumb towards the horizon. 'Who's to say they're not out there watching us right now? Waiting for the chance to attack. I'll not take that risk. In fact,' he reflected, 'we'd better not have any more campfires from now on. Just in case the enemy are out there. I'd sooner the men were cold and tired than dead. Besides-' He broke off and yawned. 'We've got more immediate difficulties.'

'Oh?'

'Yes. The officers and lads of my cohort are not best pleased to have me appointed as their new commander. As if the execution of Crispus wasn't bad enough, they've had the former commander of Crispus' victim foisted on them. Bit of a slap in the face. Makes you wonder if the governor wanted to cause us even more trouble on the road to Palmyra.'

'I shouldn't be surprised,' Cato replied bleakly. 'Another twist of the knife. What have your lads been saying, then?'

'Nothing to my face. It's more the tone of their comments and the generally sour ambience whenever I'm around. Of course, I don't give a flying fuck about how they feel towards me. Just as long as they do as they're told.All the same, we'd better keep an eye out for any further trouble between the legionaries and the auxiliaries. Last thing we need is for them to be watching their backs when they should be looking out for the enemy.'

'Quite.' Cato took a last glance round the camp before he eased himself down on to the ground and tried to make himself comfortable under his cloak. But despite the heat of the day the nights were cold and he could not help shivering. He knew that it would be a while before he managed to get to sleep, if he ever did.

'Macro?'

'Hmm?' Macro grumbled drowsily. 'What? What is it?'

'What are your plans when we reach Palmyra?'

'Plans?' Macro paused before replying. 'Longinus did not have much to say on that front. Just that we are to cut through to the citadel and hold it until he arrives.'

'That's assuming that Artaxes and his followers haven't taken the citadel yet.'

'Yes.'

'And if they have?'

'Then we've pretty much had it. Our water will be finished by then so there'll be no possibility of retreat. We'll have to take Palmyra by ourselves, or surrender.' Macro chuckled. 'It's the same old story. Death or disgrace. Some choice, eh?'

'Some choice,' Cato agreed quietly.

'Still, nothing to be done about it,' Macro concluded.'So do me a favour and shut up and get some sleep.We need all we can get.'

Macro turned his back to Cato and pulled his cloak tightly round his stocky body. A short time later he was asleep and his rumbling snores added to the more distant chorus of the other men, broken here and there by the low voices of the restless and the occasional snort and whinny from the horse lines. But there was no sleep for Cato as his mind dwelt on the situation. The odds were stacking up against them and while he understood the need for the governor to send a relief force to Palmyra it appeared to Cato that their mission was little more than a desperate gesture. King Vabathus might already be dead, along with the ambassador and his small retinue. Even now Artaxes could be cementing his grip on the throne, and throwing his kingdom open to Parthia. If that happened then the delicate balance of power that had kept the peace in the east of the Empire would be shattered. Parthia would be able to mass its fast-moving army on the very frontier of Syria and threaten Roman territory from Armenia to Egypt. Emperor Claudius would be forced to reinforce his eastern armies at huge expense, and strip legions from the Rhine frontier, already thinly stretched. That, or abandon huge swathes of land to Parthia and risk the ire of the mob and political rivals in Rome.