‘That the best you can do?’ the man sneered.
‘Not quite the best,’ Macro spat back. ‘Try this!’
He drew his head back and with a savage jerk head-butted the other man in the face. It was a tactic he had used several times before in battles and skirmishes, but rarely without a helmet on. As their skulls cracked loudly together, the other man’s jaw snapped shut under the impact, his teeth biting deeply into his tongue. Macro felt a piercingly sharp pain across his forehead. His head reeled sickeningly.
‘Fuck, that hurts …’ he groaned. Then, sensing that his opponent’s grip had eased off, Macro thrust him back, ripped his sword arm free and thrust the blade into his opponent’s throat. The gangster collapsed to his knees, blood pumping from his wound. Macro kicked him to the ground. He looked about him. The fight had spread out across the floor of the cave and several bodies lay on the ground or sprawled across the tables and benches. Cestius was exchanging vicious sword blows with one of the Germans while Septimus finished off a wiry man with a thrust to his heart. Macro felt a stab of anxiety as he failed to see any sign of his friend. Then he noticed two figures struggling on top of a table a short distance away. The man on top was one of Cestius’s gang members. Macro could just make out that the individual beneath was tall and thin and his gangling legs were kicking out desperately as he tried to free himself.
‘Not again,’ Macro muttered to himself as he raced across to save Cato. As he pushed past one of Plautus’s men Macro saw Cestius smash his sword down into the skull of the German warrior, cutting through bone and brains. Cestius wrenched his sword free with a vicious yank and then retreated a pace to quickly survey the skirmish. With a bitter frown he turned to run towards the base of the ladder leading up to the tunnel.
‘Shit.’ Macro gritted his teeth in frustration. He was still ten feet from Cato and now a handful of struggling figures had blocked his path. Cato must be saved, but equally Cestius could not be allowed to escape. Then Macro saw Centurion Plautus cut down a man on the other side of the table where Cato was pinned down.
‘Plautus!’ Macro yelled.
The centurion’s head whipped round and Macro thrust his hand towards Cato. ‘Help him!’
Plautus glanced towards the table and nodded and at once Macro pushed his way free of the melee and ran after Cestius. The gang leader had cleared the area where the tables and benches stood and crossed the open floor of the cave. He reached the bottom of the ladder, sheathed his sword and jumped on to the second rung. His hands grasped one of the stout cross timbers above and he began to scale the ladder with nimble agility and was well out of reach by the time Macro reached the foot of the ladder. Cestius’s boots were scrambling over the ledge above the top rung as Macro began to climb after him. He had ascended six feet when he felt the ladder lurch under his grip. He clung on instinctively and looked up. Cestius loomed overhead. He was pushing the ladder out, away from the ledge. For an instant Macro thought that the ladder’s angle was not steep enough to enable Cestius to topple it, but then the man raised his boot and kicked it away with all his might. The ladder swayed back and seemed to steady for a moment before slowly falling back into the cave, carrying Macro with it.
The red mist had almost closed across Cato’s eyes as he stared up into the face of the man throttling him. A froth of bloody spittle had formed at his lips from his bitten tongue and it dripped down on to Cato’s chin. The pressure on Cato’s throat was excruciating and with the last reserves of his strength Cato lashed out with his knees and boots and punched his left hand into the side of the man’s face as hard as he could, again and again. Even as he struggled, some small part of his mind seemed to look down on him with deep regret at the ignominy of dying in the cave, killed by a lowly street villain, while he stank of shit. Hardly a fitting end for the decorated soldier who aspired to marry the daughter of a senator. At that, his heart filled with longing for Julia and a determination not to die here in this cave. Tensing his neck muscles and pressing down as hard as he could with his jaw, Cato stopped clawing at the man’s hand and jabbed his fingers into his eyes as hard as he could.
His opponent bellowed with rage and pain, spattering Cato’s face with blood, but he did not loosen his grip. The pressure that threatened to burst Cato’s head became greater than ever for a brief moment, and he clenched his eyes shut. Then it was gone, and the weight pressing down on his chest abruptly eased. Blinking his eyes open, Cato saw his attacker in the thick hairy arms of Plautus. With a savage twist the officer broke the man’s neck with a loud crunching crack and then threw the body down with a triumphant ‘Ha!’ before he heaved Cato off the table and back on to his feet.
Cato nodded his thanks and then winced. He reached up to his throat and touched it tenderly. It took a moment for the dark mist to clear from his vision and for the nauseating dizziness to pass. As soon as Plautus could see that he was able to fend for himself, he turned away and charged back into the melee.
A quick glance round the cave was enough for Cato to see that Cestius’s men were losing the fight. Most of them were down, as well as several of the Germans and two of the women. Another three had backed off into one corner and were clutching each other in terror as they watched. One woman, stockier and braver than her companions, stood bare chested, a sword in one hand and a dagger in the other as she screamed shrilly at the two grinning Germans moving in on her. Cato recognised her as the woman who had been sitting in Cestius’s lap a short time before. One of the Germans contemptuously lowered his sword and bared his own chest as he approached her. Her screaming stopped and she sprang forward, breasts swaying, and stabbed at him. The German moved nimbly aside with a deep laugh and made to swat her bottom as she blundered by. Instead, she turned neatly and stuck the sword into his side and then swung her other hand and slammed the dagger through his throat. The German’s laughter died on his lips and then turned to a hoarse gurgle as he clawed at the blood coursing from his neck.
‘Barbarian scum!’ she screeched. ‘Die, you pig!’
Those were her last words, as the other German ran her through with a brutal thrust that carried her off her feet before she dropped back on to the ground as the sword blade ripped free from her guts.
Cato tore his eyes away and looked for Cestius. The gang leader was not among those still on their feet. Then he noticed Macro rising up from the ground over to one side of the cave, struggling to get himself free of the ladder that had fallen on him. There was a movement from above on the ledge and Cato saw the unmistakable outline of Cestius against the glow of a torch flickering at the entrance to the tunnel. Then the man turned and snatched the torch out of its bracket before he made off into the tunnel. Cato quickly gave orders to Plautus to remain in the cave and guard the entrances until more men could be sent to secure the grain.
By the time Cato had joined his friend, Macro was back on his feet, wrestling the ladder back into place. He glanced round as he heard Cato’s footsteps and noted the raw scratches and finger marks around Cato’s throat.
‘You still fit to fight, lad?’
‘Yes,’ Cato croaked and winced with agony. He pointed up the ladder.
‘Aye.’ Macro nodded. ‘Let’s get after the bastard.’
With Macro leading the way, they climbed the ladder and stepped up on to the ledge. A faint orange loom from Cestius’s torch was still visible in the tunnel and they ran on, their footsteps echoing off the walls of the tunnel. After a few paces the tunnel began to slope up, continuing in a straight line so that they could see Cestius some distance ahead, outlined by the glow of the torch that he held up and out in front of him. Then the tunnel began to bend to the right and flatten out and for a moment they lost sight of their prey and ran on blindly. Fortunately the tunnel had been well used and the floor was smooth and unobstructed. Rounding the corner they caught sight of Cestius again as he approached a small doorway at the end of the tunnel. The gang leader paused and glanced back. As soon as he heard the footsteps behind him he ducked through the doorway and then there was a sharp grating sound as the door began to close.