'No!' Ajax shouted at the top of his voice. 'Chilo! Hold fast!'
But his voice was drowned out by another, cutting through the night as a Roman officer bellowed,'Kill the bastards! Cut ' em down! Come on, lads, on me!'
Ajax felt a nudge at his shoulder as another man who had climbed the ladder joined the desperate struggle. He let the man by to take his place and turned to see how Chilo was faring. There was a sick feeling in his gut as he saw that a fresh wave of Romans had already pushed the rebels out of the gatehouse and was forcing them back towards the remaining ladder. The fight was lost, Ajax realised at once, and instantly knew he must do what he could to save his men.
He leaned over the wall. 'Back! Fall back!'
The upturned faces below him were dimly visible by the fading glow of the burning faggots, and their looks of despair cut into his heart like knives, but there was nothing else he could do. 'Fall back, I said! Now!'
The first of them turned and retreated towards the ditch.
'General!' Chilo came up to him, panting and face spattered with blood. He nodded towards the remaining ladder. 'You first.'
For an instant Ajax was tempted to refuse, before his reason took over. The attack had failed and his men would need him alive.
'All right. But you and the rest get down as fast as you can.'
'Yes, General.'
Ajax swung himself back over the parapet and felt for the top rung with his bare feet. He let his spear drop to the ground below and clambered back down. As he reached the bottom, the first of Chilo's men came after him.
'Don't let them get away!' the Roman officer shouted above the din of the fight on the wall, and Ajax felt his guts tighten at the sound. He looked up and snarled through clenched teeth,
'Macro…'
One by one his men came down the ladder and fled back across the ditch. From the other side there were cries of shock and pain, and Ajax realised that some of them must have run over the belt of caltrops in their haste to get away from the wall. Chilo landed heavily beside him.
'You the last?'
'Two still up there.'
There was nothing that could be done for them. Ajax clapped Chilo on the shoulder. 'Let's go.'
They turned and ran towards the ditch as there was a brief, final clash of weapons on the wall. Then a voice boomed out:
'AJAX!'
He hesitated and looked back. In the light of a torch blazing a short distance along the wall, he saw the Roman centurion. He had a javelin drawn back in his right hand as he took aim at the rebel leader. Then, with a grunt, he hurled the weapon down. His aim was true and the dark shaft swept towards Ajax. Before he could react, a body slammed into him, knocking him to one side. The javelin struck with a sound like a pick driven into wet sand and there was an explosive grunt of air. Ajax's gladiator's reflexes served him well as he rolled back into a crouch. At his feet lay Chilo, staring up and gasping as his fingers felt the shaft that pinned him to the ground through his stomach.
'General, go,' he managed to groan.
Ajax grasped the shaft and wrenched it out. Then he grabbed Chilo, lifted him on to his back and scrambled down the ditch, across the bottom and up the other side. There was another shout from the wall.
'Don't just stand there, you dozy bastards! Get him!'
Another javelin struck the earth close by as Ajax struggled over the edge of the ditch. Several more followed as he staggered on, watching the ground as carefully as he could to make sure he did not step on one of the caltrops. Once he was sure that he had passed through them and was out of range of the javelins, he sagged down and lowered Chilo to the grass. Chilo rolled on to his back with a sharp cry of pain and clutched a hand to the wound.
'Oh… fuck, fuck, it hurts,' he muttered.
Ajax saw some more of his men a short distance off.' Over here, now!'
Even thoughthey recognised the sound of their general, they hesitated briefly before they did as he ordered. Ajax indicated the stricken Chilo. 'Get him back to my headquarters and send for Kharim. Understand? Then go, now!'
They picked Chilo up and made off into the night. Ajax's heart was still pounding from his exertions and he stood breathing hard as he stared back towards the wall. The crest of the centurion was plainly visible amongst the other men behind the rampart. There was a derisive whistle, then jeering from the enemy, and Ajax spat to clear his throat.
'Macro!' He cupped a hand to his mouth and called again. 'Macro! When I take the city, I will cut your heart out with my own hand! This I swear!'
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
'Bugger it!'
Macro thumped his fist down on the parapet, and winced as the pain shot up his arm. His javelin would surely have killed or crippled Ajax had it not been for that other man, damn him. With Ajax out of action, Macro had little doubt that the morale of the rebels would have been stricken, and even if a new leader emerged to save the revolt, the loss of Ajax would have won a few days'
reprieve for the defenders. He turned away from the retreating rebels and examined the scene around him. Bodies lay sprawled along the walkway and some of the parapet had been pulled away by the enemy as they came over. It had been a close thing. The men on watch had been one of the units raised from the city's population.
They were under the command of optios and centurions appointed from the ranks of the auxiliary cohort. Had it not been for them, the rank and file might have fled.
Macro pointed to the nearest centurion. 'Flaccus!'
'Sir?'
'Clear the walkway. Have our dead taken to the burial pit.'
'Yes, sir.' Flaccus paused. 'And the other bodies?'
Macro jerked his thumb over the wall. 'Might as well leave them in full sight of the rebels. Might help to put them off their stride.'
'Yes, sir.'
Leaving Flaccus and his men to carry out the work, Macro descended to the street and made his way along the inside of the wall to the next tower. It was fortunate that he had taken the decision for troops to be quartered near the wall as soon as the rebel army set up camp outside the city otherwise the surprise attack would have succeeded. Macro had chosen the men for Julia's escort earlier in the evening and ordered them to have their mounts ready to leave at the fourth hour of the night. He had just retired to an inn for an hour's rest when the alarm sounded. As it was, he had snatched up his armour and sword as he raced towards the gatehouse, and arrived just in time to steady the men attempting to fight their way up the stairs on to the wall. Even though the rebels had been lightly protected and outmatched by the defenders, their fierce determination had almost won the day. Macro had thrust his men back into the gatehouse, shouting encouragement as he forced his way through their ranks to lead from the front. By the time he had reached the wall, the rebels were in retreat. Only a few remained to defend the top of the ladder as their comrades descended, and they were quickly cut down. Then he had seen a handful of figures running from the wall and snatched a javelin from the nearest man before he called out the gladiator's name. There had to be a chance that Ajax would be there, leading the attack. In the thin red light cast by the faggots, Macro had recognised him at once when Ajax looked back.
It had been a good throw, he mused bitterly. A fine one, in fact. Ajax should be dead. For some reason the gods had spared him for now. But next time, gods or no gods, Macro resolved to kill the gladiator and put an end to his butchery. Muttering a quick prayer of apology to Jupiter and Fortuna for his brief impiety, he went to check on the other sections of the wall before he reported to Sempronius.