Centurion

'Here!' The reply was close by and a moment later a figure strode towards Cato. 'Still with us then, Roman.'

'Evidently.' Cato could not help returning the Greek's smile for an instant before he gestured to the ram housing. 'You'd better get your lads to work on that, before the enemy gathers enough men to counter-attack.'

'Yes, at once.' Archelaus turned and called for the men with the incendiary materials to gather round him. As soon as they had found Archelaus and Cato the small party picked its way through the last few groups of men still fighting. They made straight for the ram housing and Cato saw that the timber structure was mounted on large solid wooden wheels. Much of the sturdy frame had already been covered with bales of hide stuffed with animal skins and rags to absorb the impact of any missiles dropped from the citadel gatehouse when the ram was ready to go into action. Inside, hanging from chains, was the long shaft of the ram itself.

Archelaus stopped to address the small group of men. 'Get as many fires lit as you can. I want this thing well ablaze before we have to retreat.'

The mercenaries lowered their shields and spears and dispersed themselves around the structure, beginning to gather any combustible material around the places they chose to make their fires. Each carried a tinderbox and one by one they set to work striking flints and blowing on the charred kindling inside.

As Cato and Archelaus waited, weapons held ready, the first of the small flames licked up and soon the immediate area was illuminated by small fires as sparks and smoke began to swirl through the darkness. For a moment Cato was satisfied that the enemy structure would soon be ablaze. But then, as the kindling began to burn itself out, he realised something was wrong.

'It's not catching alight.' Cato strode towards the ram housing and sheathed his sword. He reached out to touch the leather hides. 'They've been wetted down… soaked.' Cato turned back to Archelaus. 'Forget setting fire to it. Go for the cordage.'

The Greek officer nodded and switching his spear to his shield hand he drew his falcata and shouted an order to his men.'Use your swords! Cut the ropes! Set fire to their stores!'

At once his men abandoned their failing flames and set about the thick coarse ropes from which the ram was suspended. The air was filled with the dull thud of swords striking the twisted hemp and Cato made himself keep his mouth shut as he willed them to work faster. But the night was already coming to an end, he knew, as he glanced at the sky lightening above the rooftops of Palmyra.

Around him the last of the enemy had been killed or sent running and there were no more sounds of clashing weapons in the temple precinct, no more shouted war cries or muttered oaths. Here and there a man groaned with pain, or called out pitifully for help. Cato strode back towards the ruined barricade and cocked an ear in the direction of the eastern gate. He was relieved to hear the sounds of distant fighting. Macro and the others had begun their attack, and with luck were fighting their way into the city.

A sudden shout of triumph and a dull thud drew Cato's attention back and he turned to see that the rear of the ram had been cut from its ropes and had fallen to the ground. Archelaus' men at once attacked the remaining ropes with a desperate frenzy of blows. Beyond the temple, in the heart of the city, horns sounded, urgently blasting deep notes to waken and summon the rebel soldiers to trap and slaughter the small band of the royal guard who had had the audacity to mount this sortie against the rebels' siege weapon.

'Time we got out of here,' Archelaus muttered. 'They'll be after us at any moment.'

The commander echoed his thoughts a moment later by ordering his men to quit the precinct and form up beyond the remains of the barricade. Archelaus' men abandoned the ram and hurried back towards the agora. Cato quickly inspected the damage. The ram was hanging by one length of cord, badly frayed from sword slashes. Elsewhere flames licked up from piles of hemp and timber. It would set the rebels back perhaps half a day, he estimated. Not much, but it would frustrate Prince Artaxes and his followers and raise the morale of those sheltering in the citadel.

'Prefect!'

Cato turned to see Archelaus beckoning to him in the thin light of the coming dawn. He left the ram housing and trotted back to join the mercenaries. The sound of fighting from the eastern gate had faded slightly and Cato fervently hoped that it was because Macro and his men had succeeded in penetrating the city. From the other direction the shouts of the rebels and the blasts of their horns and beating of drums drew closer.As soon as the last of the injured men had been helped into the formation, the commander gave the order to withdraw. In tight ranks the mercenaries marched at a steady pace across the agora towards the citadel gate.A small unit of the bodyguard stood there, defending the gate against any surprise attack from the rebels. Cato nodded with approval. That was the kind of cautious contingency he approved of. Clearly the commander of the syntagma was an experienced and capable officer.

They had covered over half the distance to the gate when the first of the rebel reinforcements appeared on the far side of the agora. More poured out of the other entrances on to the paved expanse and the commander gave the order for the mercenaries to quicken their pace. Glancing back, Cato could see that they would easily reach the gate before the rebels could mass enough men together to charge the retreating mercenaries.The gate would be shut before that happened. With a sick feeling Cato realised that it would also be shut in face of the relief column as they approached the citadel.

'Archelaus! We must stop.'

'Stop?' The Greek turned to stare at him as if Cato was mad. He nodded over his shoulder. 'In case you hadn't noticed…'

'We have to keep the gate open.We must leave a way in for the relief column.'

Archelaus frowned for a moment, then hissed through his teeth. 'You're right. Come with me.'

He forced a way through the ranks until they reached the commander of the formation.

'Sir!' Archelaus called out. 'We must halt.'

'Halt?' The commander shook his head. 'Why?'

Cato pushed forward. 'We have to keep the way to the citadel clear for the relief column.'

The commander thought for a moment and then shook his head. 'Too much of a risk. We have to look after ourselves. They'll have to fight their way to the gates.'

'No!' Cato snapped. 'You can't abandon them.'

'I'm sorry, Roman.'

'Damn you! We marched across a desert to help you. Good men have died for you.' Cato forced himself to calm down and muttered, 'Have you no shame?'

The commander rounded on him angrily, disrupting the march of his men so that they had to flow around the three officers.'Listen, Roman, I don't take orders from you. I look after my men first, and then my employer. You're not even on my list of priorities.'

Cato glared at him, as his mind raced to come up with some way of persuading the mercenary commander to change his mind. 'Look, you need us. A thousand more men in the garrison could be the difference between surviving until General Longinus arrives with his army, and being wiped out. And supposing you do abandon our relief column, and Longinus gets to hear about it? He'd have his revenge on you. Either way, you die if you don't help those men.' Cato thrust his arm towards the eastern gate.

The commander clenched his jaw for an instant and then shrugged wearily. 'It seems you leave me no choice, Prefect. Very well then.' He drew a sharp breath and bellowed, 'Halt! Form a line across the agora! Wounded to the citadel!'

The mercenaries halted abruptly, and then, cajoled by their officers, they spread across the open space and formed up facing the rebels surging towards them.They closed ranks until their shields overlapped and then raised their spears, resting the shafts on shield rims as the enemy drew closer. The commander gestured impatiently to Archelaus.