Centurion

'Take ten men from the rear rank. Go and find the relief column, and tell them to get here as quick as they can. I will hold the way open for as long as I can, then…'

Cato slapped Archelaus on the shoulder before the commander could change his mind. 'Let's go!'

The small party peeled away from the syntagma and ran for the avenue that led towards the east gate. A loud cheer went up from the rebels as they broke into a charge, hurling themselves towards the thin line of Greek mercenaries with their deadly spears. Cato ignored them and ran into the avenue that led down from the citadel into the heart of the city. The avenue was broad and clear, and in the dimness of the gathering light he could see the sprawl of Palmyra's poorest quarter spread out before him. They trotted down the incline, eyes warily searching for any sign of the enemy. Ahead the route bent slightly and as they rounded the corner Cato saw the familiar oblong shapes of legionary shields marching up towards him. He could not resist letting out a cheer and waving his sword arm in greeting. Archelaus and the others followed suit as they ran towards the relief column.

Then Cato saw the archers behind the first century of Macro's cohort. He saw them raise their bows, take aim and loose a hail of arrows.

'Down!' he shouted to Archelaus, ducking behind his shield. The mercenaries followed suit, save one who paused too long to stare in bewilderment at the dark shafts streaking towards them. With a wet thwack an arrow slammed through his throat and burst out at the back of his neck. He reached for the shaft with a dazed expression etched on his face, and tried to speak, but couldn't as blood filled his throat.

Cato tore his eyes away and shouted down the alley, as loud as he could.

'Cease shooting! It's Prefect Cato!'

More arrows rattled off the paved avenue and the fronts of their shields. Then there was a gasp and Cato glanced round and saw Archelaus topple backwards on to the ground, an arrow shaft protruding from his chest, just below the shoulder.

'Cease shooting!' Cato cried out desperately.

08 Centurion

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Macro felt a chill clamp round the back of his neck as he heard Cato's cry. Instantly, he turned and bellowed towards Balthus and his men. 'Stop! Cease shooting!' He gestured frantically towards the dim figures sheltering behind their round shields. 'They're on our side!'

Balthus lowered his bow and shouted an order to his men and they followed suit, easing the tension on the nocked arrows. Satisfied that the danger was over Macro thrust his way through the front ranks, and started running up the hill towards his friend, bellowing the order for the column to continue their advance towards the citadel.

'Cato! Cato! Where are you, lad?' Macro slowed as he approached the men warily rising up from behind their shields. One man was down, lying flat on his back and quite still, shot through the throat by an arrow. Another man lay on the ground clutching the shaft that had pierced his thigh. A third man was wounded in the shoulder and was being helped up by one of his comrades who had already pulled the arrow free.

'Cato?'

A face turned towards him, and in the growing light Macro felt a wave of relief wash through him as he recognised his friend. He forced a laugh.'Might have guessed that you'd be lucky enough to dodge those arrows.'

Cato's expression remained grim. 'It's a bloody miracle that any of us are still standing.'

'Well,' Macro waved his hand dismissively, 'we were hardly expecting to see friendly faces before we reached the citadel. In any case, it's easy to mistake friend for foe in the darkness, as we all know.'

Cato stared coldly at him for a moment and Macro fervently wished he had not said what he had. He stepped forward and reached down towards the man Cato was helping. 'I'll take his other side.'

'No, wait.'

But Macro had already slipped his hand under the man's arm and lifted him with a powerful heave. The mercenary rose to his feet with an agonised groan and Macro saw that the stump of the shaft still protruded from the wound where it had snapped off.

'Ah, sorry, mate. Couldn't see it there.'

The mercenary clenched his teeth together and rolled his eyes as he fought back the agony burning through his shoulder.

Cato shook his head. 'Nice going, sir.'

'Only trying to help.' Macro's tone was momentarily surly.'Anyway, what's the situation and what the hell are you doing wearing that get-up?'

'I'd hardly be able to sneak into Palmyra with Roman kit, would I? In any case,' Cato looked away as he supported Archelaus, 'I wanted to be there to make sure the relief column reached the citadel safely.'

Macro was deeply moved by his friend's concern for his safety, and then felt a surge of embarrassment. At once he tried to push the feeling aside before Cato could guess at it. He turned away to urge the relief column to pick up its pace before he could trust himself to address Cato again.

'These Greeks of yours look tough enough. I assume there's more like 'em in the citadel.'

'They're not my Greeks. These men are under the command of Archelaus,' Cato nodded towards the man he was helping.

'Archelaus, eh? Pleased to meet you.' Macro thrust out his hand, but the Greek, still clenching his teeth, glanced down at his wound and then back at Macro with raised eyebrows.

'Ah, yes. Sorry.' Macro smiled awkwardly. 'Good to meet you all the same.'

Cato grunted under his burden.'Now the formalities are over, let's get to the citadel.'

'Yes, of course. These men can fall in with us.' Macro looked up the street as the sound of the fighting in the agora carried towards them. 'What's happening up ahead?'

'The king's bodyguard are keeping the citadel gates cleared for you,' Cato explained. 'But we must hurry. They won't be able to hold the rebels back for long.'

The column continued up the street, towards the sound of fighting. As they emerged into the agora Macro glanced to his right and saw the line of Greek mercenaries giving ground under pressure of the enemy hacking at them from beyond their shield wall. From the walls of the citadel, a steady barrage of arrows, javelins and ballista bolts rained down on the rebel horde, thinning their numbers as they surged towards the Greeks.

'Keep moving there!' Macro shouted at his men, who had slowed to take in the spectacle. 'It's not a bloody day at the circus! Shift yourselves!'

The column moved forward at a quick pace towards the open gate, where Macro stepped aside to wave his men on. Cato left two of Archelaus' men to help their officer to the hospital and then he joined Macro. Once the legionaries had passed through the gate, the mounted men followed: Balthus and his men, and then the squadrons from the Second Illyrian. Centurion Parmenion marched at the head of the auxiliary infantry who formed the rearguard. As soon as he recognised Cato he smiled and saluted.

'Good to see you, sir.'

'And you, Centurion. How have the men fared?'

'We've had no problems, sir.The lads from the Tenth did most of the hard work. They took the gate and cleared a path through the rebels.' He glanced at Macro and continued in a gently grudging tone, 'They did a fine job, sir.'

Macro shrugged. 'Of course; they're legionaries. But the lads of the Second Illyrian could have done the job just as well,' he added tactfully.'And we were helped by Balthus and his boys. A team effort all round, I'd say.'

Cato looked at him and smiled. 'You've become quite the diplomat.'

'Diplomat?' Macro frowned.'Sod off. I'll leave that to the broad-stripers. I lack a smooth tongue and the necessary arse-licking skills.'

Cato laughed.'An unsavoury image if ever there was one.'

Macro punched him on the shoulder. 'Fine. Let's drop the subject, eh? Hardly the time and place for smart words.'