'First century! Advance towards the gate!'
With Metellus calling the pace the wedge edged across the agora, surrounded by the rebels, who were shouting with excitement and triumph, like wild predators scenting an imminent kill. As Cato had hoped, the pressure eased on the other centuries and they began to retire without too much trouble through the gate, while the rebels turned their fury on the remaining unit slowly forcing its way through the mob. Looking out over the close ranks of the auxiliaries Cato could see that most of the rebels surrounding them were lightly armed. As yet, only a handful of Prince Artaxes' regular soldiers had reached the fight, but then the blast of a horn echoed across the agora and Cato glanced round to see a column of soldiers emerge on the other side of the open ground. Immediately they broke into a trot, making straight for the fight in front of the citadel gates.
'We have to pick up the pace,' Cato decided. 'Metellus!'
'I see them, sir,' Metellus replied quickly and called out to his men more frequently. 'One!… Two!'
Cato saw that they were no more than fifty feet from the gate. Macro had retreated through the arch and Cato could see his transverse crest amongst the dense formation of legionaries formed up just inside the citadel. On the walls above, the archers had turned their attention towards the new enemy column pounding across the agora. The dark shafts of arrows rattled on to the paving, or splintered shields, with a few shots striking men down as they ran to cut off the retreat of the last of the Romans outside the citadel.
Already the pressure from the dense mass of men outside the small wedge formation was taking its toll and the auxiliaries began to slow, all the while slamming their shields and stabbing their swords into the press of enemy bodies. Suddenly, one rebel, more daring than his comrades, grabbed the top of a shield of one the men close to Cato. Before the auxiliary could cut at the man's fingers, the rebel wrenched the shield down savagely, smacking the bottom rim into the auxiliary's shins.The man gasped with pain and in that moment of hesitation, with his upper body exposed, another rebel thrust a spear at his throat. The point tore through his neck cloth and burst out from under the helmet neck guard. As the man sagged forward on to his knees the spearman leaped forward into the gap.
'No, you don't!' Cato growled, and rushed the few paces to the rebel, throwing his weight behind his shield as a spear thrust glanced off the curved surface, and then Cato smashed into the man, sending him reeling back into the mob. Cato stopped level with the auxiliaries on either side, taking the place of the fallen soldier. His heart was racing, beating like a drum in his chest. He drew a breath and cried out. 'Keep moving! If we stop, we die!'
The men at the head of the wedge pressed forward again, punching with their shields and thrusting and hacking at the enemy with their short swords. They gained perhaps another ten paces before the formation was stalled again, tantalisingly close to the gate, just as the first of the fresh rebel soldiers reached the fight and forced their way through towards the Romans.Then Cato realised, with certainty, that the first century would make no further progress towards the gate. He slammed his shield out, then slashed his sword in an arc before he risked a glimpse towards the gate, no more than a few paces away. It was still open, and already some of the rebels were turning towards it, sensing the opportunity.
'Shut the gate!' Cato roared, the cry tearing at his dry throat. 'Macro, save yourself! Shut the gate!'
A blow against his shield made Cato stagger back and then, with an icy calmness, he resolved to kill as many of his enemies as he could before he was cut down.
'Bastards!' he hissed through clenched teeth.Then his fist tightened round his sword handle and he hurled himself back into the line, hacking at the faces in front of him. He filled his lungs and roared,'Second Illyrian! Second Illyrian!' The men around him took up the cry as they fought on. Pressed in from all sides the wedge became an oval, tightly clustered around their standard as the first of the fresh rebel soldiers reached them. The auxiliaries were more evenly matched now and began to fall in increasing numbers. The Romans fell back over the bodies of their comrades, closing ranks, breathing heavily, limbs burning with exhaustion as they blinked away splattered blood, grudgingly giving ground to the enemy.
Cato felt a blow and then a burning sensation in his shield arm and glimpsed the blade of a falcata pulling back from a thrust into his arm just below the chain mail. He gritted his teeth and gave vent to a deep groan of pain and rage, swinging slightly as he slashed his sword down on the rebel's blade, knocking it from his grasp.Then Cato reversed direction, slashing his blade up across the man's breast, ripping through his light tunic and the flesh beneath, leaving a vivid crimson streak in the wake of his blade.
There was a loud roar from the direction of the gate as Cato stepped back, his shield sagging as the last reserves of strength faded in his left arm. He glanced to the side and saw a dense column of legionaries spewing from the citadel gate. At their head was Macro, bellowing his war cry.The heavily armoured legionaries crashed through the loose throng of rebels closest to the gate and then carved a bloody path through those surrounding the small knot of the remaining auxiliaries. The ferocity of the attack momentarily stunned the rebels and Cato took his chance to call to his men.
'On me! This way!' He lowered his sword and drove his shield into the thinning enemy ranks between him and Macro. The auxiliaries let out a weary cheer and followed him, wildly hacking at the enemy as they fought their way towards their legionary comrades. Cato slammed his shield into one rebel's side, sending him sprawling, and then he saw another man's back ahead of him. His blade thrust forward, taking the rebel just below the shoulder. As his blade cut into the body, the glistening red tip of a sword burst through the man's back. Cato wrenched his blade free and the rebel toppled aside, the weight of the corpse pulling it off the other sword, and there stood Macro, wild-eyed, splattered with blood and grinning like a madman.
'So there you are! Go on, lad, get your men through to the gate. We'll take it from here.'
Cato nodded, then waved his men past as Macro's legionaries cleared space on either side and held the enemy back. The exhausted auxiliaries staggered through the gate and collapsed or bent double along the walls on either side. Cato was the last in, and stood and watched as the legionaries fell back, in good order, pressed hard by the bitterly denied rebels, now crying out with rage and frustration that the auxiliaries had escaped them. The legionaries withdrew under the arch and the clash of blades echoed sharply off the masonry.
'Get ready to close the gate!' Macro yelled over his shoulder and the party of legionaries standing behind the stout doors placed their shoulders against the solid timbers and braced their booted feet against the paving slabs. As Macro and the last of the legionaries passed into the citadel he shouted the order. 'Close the gate!'
With a grunt the legionaries heaved and the doors began to swing as the iron hinges groaned. The gap steadily narrowed until only Macro remained hacking at the closest rebels, snarling defiance and insults at them. Cato, fearing that his friend would be caught between the doors, sheathed his sword and rushed forward to grasp Macro's harness and haul him back with all his might. Sword arm flailing as he stumbled away from the enemy, Macro shouted, 'What the fuck? What are you doing?' Then the doors slammed into place with a reverberating thud and the legionaries thrust the locking bar across into its slot.
The shouts of the rebels were at once deadened and around Cato men stood chests heaving as they gasped for breath.At last he released his grip on his shield and it slipped to the ground with a loud clang. He loosened his grip on Macro's harness as Macro turned round and puffed out his cheeks.