Centurion

'What about our wounded?' asked Cato. 'We're not leaving them behind.'

'They will slow us down. And what if one of them should cry out in pain?You would risk the rest of your men for the sake of a useless injured soldier?'

'We're not leaving them behind,' Cato repeated forcefully. 'And they know better than to put the lives of their comrades at risk. They won't make any noise.'

Balthus' gaze switched to Macro. 'Is this your will, Centurion?'

'It is. Just as Cato said.'

'Very well. But if our approach is detected, and we have to escape, then my men and I will be forced to fend for ourselves.'

'I expected nothing less, Prince.'

'Just as long as we understand each other, Roman.'

'I don't think there's any doubt about that,' Macro concluded, and eased himself back from the shrub, towards the slope behind them. 'Come on, we'd better rejoin the column.'

The three men crept out of sight of the city and then descended to the men behind the ridge. The infantry had been permitted to fall out of line and were resting in whatever shade they could find, or had made their own by hanging their cloaks over their yokes and javelins. The horsemen, Roman and Palmyran alike, sat in the shade of their mounts, holding the reins in one hand. They had approached the ridge early in the morning and halted while the three commanders ascended the slope to reconnoitre.

When they had rejoined their men the column trudged forward again, moving behind the line of the ridge until they reached the spur, where they halted, shortly before noon.

'Why are we stopping?' Macro demanded.

'Look.' Balthus gestured to the dust cloud hanging over the column. 'We can't afford to give any sign of our presence. The ridge is high enough to conceal us from the watchmen on the walls of the city, but once we climb across the ridge they might see any dust we kick up. So, we must stop and wait until dusk before moving on again.'

'Very well,' Macro conceded. 'Until dusk.'

When a watch had been posted up on the ridge they rested under the glare of the midday sun, and once the blazing orb had sunk sufficiently from its zenith Macro gave the orders for the men to prepare for the night march to the east gate. All portable equipment was removed from the carts and distributed to the legionaries and auxiliaries. The small stock of construction timber and spare javelin shafts was used to make stretchers for the wounded and several assault ladders. Meanwhile, Cato gave orders for his cavalrymen to bind the hooves of their mounts with strips of cloth cut from their cloaks.

'You won't be needing them tonight.' He forced himself to smile at Centurion Aquila and the other cavalry officers. 'If we succeed, there's a nice warm billet waiting for you in the citadel at Palmyra. If we fail, well, I doubt we'll need our cloaks in Hades.'

A lame joke, he knew, but his officers smiled appreciatively enough. Despite his youth Cato had led men long enough to know the value of a light touch and apparent fearlessness. He left Aquila to carry out his instructions and returned to Macro. There was one last task to organise.

A message had to be got through the enemy's lines so that the king and his followers were ready to admit the small relief column into the citadel. It was obvious that one of Balthus' men would have to be the courier and once again the two Roman officers were instinctively distrustful of their new ally.

'I don't like it,' Macro grumbled. 'I know he helped us out with those horse-archers, but I still find it hard to turn my back towards the man. And the moment we head towards the gate, we're in his hands. If he should betray us, we've had it.'

'True.' Cato nodded. 'But there's no reason why he should betray us. He has as much at stake as we do in seeing that the revolt is put down. My main worry is that the Parthians might cut a better deal with him than Rome can. I think you're right. We have to watch our backs.'

'Fine words don't make fine actions, Cato. What are we going to do about it?'

Cato thought for a moment, and did not like what seemed to be the best course of action. In fact, the prospect of what he was about to suggest terrified him. Yet, at the same time, there was a peculiar thrill at the danger of it all, and he realised – quite suddenly – that he was getting a taste for taking risks.There was some perverse facet of his nature that craved danger, and he wondered if this desire was so strong that it threatened to corrupt his reason. He felt a wave of revulsion and contempt for himself. If that were true then he had no right to command other men; to have responsibility for their lives. They would be safer under another man's command. That thought made his decision much easier.

'If we don't trust Balthus, we should send one of our men in with his courier. Just to make sure he doesn't go astray, and that the citadel's defenders are ready for us.'

Macro considered the suggestion for a moment and then looked at Cato with a sad, weary expression. 'I know what you're going to say. I know it before you even open your mouth.You're not going.Your men need you. Frankly, I need you. There's going to be action tonight, and I would feel easier about it if I knew the Second Illyrian was safe in your hands.'

Cato stared at his friend for a moment and his heart filled with affection for the gruff, honest man who had taught him how to be a soldier, and how to be a leader of men. Macro was Cato's ideal. He was the true measure of a soldier in Cato's eyes, and the thought that Macro depended on him was an accolade far beyond praise from the veteran. Cato bit back on his pride and affection.

'Centurion Parmenion can lead the men as well as me.'

'No.' Macro shook his head and then grinned. 'He can do it better. I just don't like to be shown up. Far better to have you to compete against.'

They laughed, and then Cato continued,'I have to go.To make sure that everything is ready from the other end. If we're going to be betrayed, better to lose me than both cohorts.'

'How will I know if it's safe to go through with Balthus' plan?'

'I've thought of that. If I make it through to the citadel then I'll have them light a beacon in the highest tower.You and Balthus rush the gate the moment you see it. If there's no signal by first light, then you'll have to accept that I've failed. Is that all right, sir?' The deferential tone was deliberate. Cato knew that the final decision was Macro's alone and if he refused then there was no further debating the matter.

Macro rubbed the bristles on his cheek. 'Very well. Give Parmenion his orders and then report to me. I'll be with our friend the prince, deciding on our message to the king.'

By the time Cato rejoined Macro the sun was low on the horizon and the evening shadows were creeping across the plain. One of Balthus' men was standing with his prince and Macro, holding some dark robes over his arm.

'This is Carpex, one of my household slaves,' Balthus explained. 'He is as loyal a man as you can find.'

'For a slave,' said Macro.

'Yes. But I would trust him with my life,' Balthus said.

'That's good. Because that's exactly what we are trusting him with.Yours, and ours.'

Carpex gestured to the robes as he addressed Cato. 'You'll need to wear these, master. Better leave your armour and keep your weapons covered.The rest of your equipment has to be left behind.'

'How are we going to get through to the citadel?' Cato asked.

'There is a way,' said Balthus. 'A tunnel leading from one of the city's drains into the old stables of the citadel. They use the building as a barracks now, but Carpex and I discovered it when we were boys, and used to hide there to escape punishment.'