The Eagle In the Sand

'Thank you, Cato. But what happens until then?'

'Prefect Scrofa is still in charge.'

'So the violence will continue against the villages in the area?'

Cato shrugged helplessly. 'As long as he is in command he can do as he wishes. All I can do is try to soften the blow.'

'Why can't your centurion take over from Scrofa right now?'

'He can't.' Cato's hand went to the bulge of the thin scroll case beneath his tunic. 'Not without the proper authorisation. We're waiting for it to arrive.'

'Then you had better pray that it arrives quickly, Centurion Cato. Before Bannus and his Parthian friends start a general revolt. If that happens, then God help us all.'

07 The Eagle In the Sand

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

We can't just stand here and watch,' Macro said angrily.

'Why not?' Centurion Postumus replied. 'We offered them our protection and they turned us down. Perhaps next time they'll think twice before they spurn my offer.'

'Next time?' Macro's eyes widened in surprise. 'There isn't going to be a next time. They're being slaughtered over there.' He gestured down the track to where the raiders from the desert had charged in amongst the caravan's small force of armed escorts. The latter were hopelessly outnumbered and it was clear that they were being cut to pieces. Beyond them the camel herders were streaming away from their charges, abandoning them, and their precious cargo, to the raiders. The merchants in charge of the caravan had wheeled their camels round and were now riding them back up the track towards the Roman cavalry patrol as fast as they could go. Postumus watched them with an amused expression.

'I can't wait to see their faces when I tell them the price has doubled.'

Macro turned to him. 'What did you say?'

'It's at this stage that we double the price for escorting them the rest of the way. Oh, don't worry, they'll agree to pay it without any argument.'

'Then what?'

'Then we charge in. The raiders take what they have and run for it, and it's all over and another contract is in the bag. A few months of this, sir, and you'll be sitting on a small fortune.'

'And if the raiders decide to fight it out?'

'They won't. We have an unspoken understanding with them.'

'What?'

'Think about it, sir. It's important that the threat is real. So if they see us riding behind a caravan, they have come to know we'll let them carry out a quick attack. For our part, when we ride to the rescue, they know that we won't pursue them into the desert. Neither side loses any men and both sides get to profit. The only losers are the caravan cartels, and the next time they come this way, they'll pay up without any fuss.'

Macro shook his head in disbelief. He stared towards the caravan where the raiders had dealt with the escort and were now busy looting the leading camels.

'How long has this been going on?'

'Since I arrived here, sir.'

'Was Scrofa's predecessor in on it?'

'No,' Postumus admitted guardedly. 'He didn't approve, but then again, he just turned a blind eye to those of us who had joined the scheme. I think I would have talked him round, if he hadn't died in that ambush.'

'I bet.' Macro had heard enough. He drew his sword and tightened his hands on the reins.

'What are you doing, sir?' Postumus asked in alarm.

'I'm doing my duty,' Macro growled, before he took a sharp breath and bellowed his orders. 'Deploy into line!'

'No!' Postumus cried out. 'No! Stay as you are!'

Macro whipped round towards him. 'Shut your mouth! Not one more word from you.' He turned back to the auxiliaries. 'Deploy into line!'

'I'm in command here!' Postumus called out.

Macro let go of the reins and slammed his fist into Postumus's face. The centurion's head snapped back and he dropped from the saddle and hit the ground with a jarring crash. Macro shook his head. 'Not any more you're not, sunshine.' He turned to the auxiliaries and shouted, 'Well? What are you bloody waiting for? Deploy into line!'

Behind him, obedient to his order, the decurions were marshalling the two squadrons into line. As soon as they were ready, Macro raised his sword to get their attention and swept it down towards the caravan.

'Charge!'

The horses broke into a trot, quickly accelerating into a canter, straight at the oncoming owners of the caravan. They just had time to register a look of surprise and fright before they wheeled their beasts aside, out of the path of the charging Roman cavalry. Then they flashed out of Macro's field of vision, and he concentrated on the situation ahead as the auxiliaries whooped their war cries and brandished their spears as they closed on the raiders. Already, the first of them was breaking away from the caravan, hurriedly herding a cluster of laden camels ahead of him, back into the desert. As the auxiliaries neared the tail end of the caravan the rest realised the danger and mounted their camels and turned them away. They were in for a nasty shock, Macro thought, when the cavalry didn't give up the chase and charged right after them. He turned his head to call back to the men behind him. 'Keep going! Go for them! Don't stop!'

He wanted them to be quite sure of the order, given that Postumus must have got them used to drawing up as soon as they had chased the raiders away from previous caravans. The auxiliaries pounded round the end of the caravan and headed diagonally across the level ground towards the fleeing raiders. Greed had got the better of the bandits and they did not abandon their loot and the camels they had driven off. Macro smiled. Perhaps they still thought that the Roman cavalry, true to form, was merely making a show of chasing them off. They'd soon discover the folly of that notion.

Macro, at the head of the auxiliaries, was within bowshot of the nearest raiders when they began to understand their peril. One of the camel riders, leading a string of laden beasts, abruptly threw down the lead rope and whipped his camel into a loping run towards the distant dunes. At once his companions did the same, releasing the animals they had seized and desperately racing to escape the horsemen charging towards them. Macro ignored the discarded baggage and waved his sword towards the black-robed figures making for the open desert.

'Stay on them! Don't let them get away!'

The nearest of the raiders was just a short distance ahead now, and Macro drew his shield against his left side and held his cavalry sword out to the right in readiness. The raider, his head swathed in black turban and veil, glanced back and his eyes widened at the sight of the Roman officer bearing down on him.At once he reached forward and snatched out one of the short javelins from the sheath hanging from his saddle frame. As his camel loped on towards the desert the raider twisted round, took aim and hurled the javelin at Macro only a short distance behind.The shaft flew flat and true towards him. He jerked the reins to the left and leaned as far as he dared to the side and ducked his head.The javelin flicked past his right shoulder and the raider uttered an angry curse and snatched at another. For an instant Macro's horse staggered as it struggled to fight the inertia opposing the rapid change in direction and Macro hung on tightly, clamping his legs against the horse's side as he tried to shift his weight to the right. Then, with a powerful thrust from its front legs, the horse regained control and galloped after the raider once more.

The second javelin was thrown as Macro closed in, and it was deflected off his shield with a sharp clatter. There was no time for another javelin and the raider drew a curved blade and swung it at Macro's head. With a metallic ring, Macro parried the blow and then swept the point of his sword towards the man's side and thrust home, through the dark robes and into his chest. The raider gasped as the impact drove the air from his lungs; then, as the blade ripped free, he galloped on several more paces before the reins slipped from his fingers and he toppled from the saddle, hit the stony ground, rolled over a few times and was still. His camel lumbered on, riderless, into the desert.