Turning his head, Macro could glimpse the sea between two of the tents that comprised the rebel leader's headquarters. The unmistakable lines of three Roman warships lay hove to a mile from shore. That was something at least, he mused. Ajax might have captured the grain fleet, but he would not be able to use the ships to escape the island.
Macro's gaze flickered to Julia as she leaned into the opposite corner of the cage. Her head hung forward and was shrouded by the matted hair that hung down across her shoulders.
'You awake?' Macro asked softly. 'Julia?'
She looked up slowly, and he could see from the glistening streaks over the grime on her face that she had been crying again. She swallowed and licked her lips.
'I'm thirsty,' she croaked.
'Me too.'
They were given water at dawn, noon and dusk, along with a greasy thin gruel. It had been that way since they had been put into the cage, and each day of the march since the rebel army had suddenly quit the siege of Gortyna. Ajax had ordered that his prisoners be fed on the same diet that had been provided to slaves on the farming estates. At the appointed time the same old crone and a burly member of the rebel leader's bodyguard came to the cage to feed them. The routine was always the same. The man would order them to shuffle to the back of the cage before unlocking the door to admit the old woman. She quickly set down two battered copper pots with ladles, gruel in one, water in the other, and then retreated from the cage. On the first day even Macro's iron stomach revolted at the terrible smell of the stew of rancid gristle, fat and barley. But hunger had a way of making things palatable, and he soon grew to savour the small quantity of food that he was allowed. The water be came increasingly precious as well, and the heat during the day was a torment of dry throat, leathery tongue and cracked lips.
The conditions of their imprisonment were made immeasurably worse by the lack of any arrangements for their sanitation and they had to live with the stench of their own filth. It had been bad enough for Macro to be stripped of all his clothes in front of Julia, and to have to live under such conditions, but Julia had never suffered any indignity like this, nor even imagined such an intolerable existence.
Macro had tried to help her in any way that he could, by looking away when she needed to go, and by deliberately avoiding looking at her except straight in the eye. Fortunately she had been given a torn cloak by the old hag who brought them food. It had been thrust at her and Julia had seized it at once, wrapping herself in its rank, ripped folds. Even with this small comfort she had quickly be come numbed by the grimness of it all and retreated into long periods of silence.
Macro regarded her suffering with a growing burden of sorrow. She was young and beautiful, and in love with Cato. She did not deserve such a fate as this.
As he thought of his friend, Macro's sorrow increased. The girl was as dear to Cato as anything else in the world. Her loss would break the lad's heart. And, Macro was human enough to realise, his own death would be a hard blow for Cato. They were as close as brothers, though sometimes Macro felt they were more like father and son, and he dreaded Cato doing something rash once he discovered that they had been taken prisoner. Assuming that Cato was alive, he mused grimly.
Ajax had constructed their torment perfectly, Macro reflected.
They were permitted to live, but stripped of every dignity, kept like animals — no, worse than animals. With little possibility of escape, and no seeming chance of being freed as a result of negotiations, a grim future awaited them, until the day that Ajax tired of their torment and had them butchered. Until then Macro watched for any opportunities and tried to keep his muscles exercised as far as possible in the confined space, so that his body wasn't stiff and hobbled if he needed to act swiftly.
He turned to Julia and forced himself to smile.' Not long until noon.'
'Long enough,' she whispered, leaning her head back against the bars and squinting at the brilliant sunlight lancing through the slots overhead. She shut her eyes and was silent for a while before she spoke again.' How many days have we been in here?'
Macro had to concentrate hard for a moment. Even though he had been keeping count, for some reason he doubted the number he had in his head. He counted back just to check. 'I make it sixteen.
Yes, sixteen, I'm sure of it.'
'Sixteen days,' Julia sighed. 'Feels like sixteen years… I wish I was dead.'
'Don't say that,' Macro replied in a kindly tone. 'While we're alive, there's always hope.'
She uttered a cracked laugh. 'Alive? You call this being alive?'
'Yes, yes, I do.' Macro did his best to sit up straight and stare at Julia. 'We will get out of here, Julia. Don't let go of that thought.
I swear it to you, in the name of all the gods. We will get out of here.'
She looked at him hopefully, then nodded with a sad smile. 'You're right, of course. They'll drag us out of this cage to kill us. Or maybe we'll be left to die in here and one day some one will pull our bodies out and throw us into a ditch for the rats and dogs and crows to feast on.'
'Stop that!' Macro snapped, then forced himself to smile gently.
'You're making me hungry.'
Julia stared at him intensely for an instant and then burst into laughter. Macro joined in, roaring with mirth and desperate relief that some spark of the old Julia still lived on. A handful of the nearest rebels turned to look curiously at the filthy figures in the cage, and then one of the gladiator's bodyguards came over and poked the butt of his spear through the bars and into Macro's back.
'Quiet, you!'
'Fuck off,' Macro growled back, and the man rammed the butt home again, much harder this time, sending a searing pain round Macro's ribs. He snatched a breath of air and gritted his teeth as he rode out the pain. The guard grunted, spat through the bars and then slowly strode back to the shade of a stunted olive tree.
'Macro, are you all right?' Julia was looking at him anxiously.
'I'll live,' he winced. 'But that bastard won't, the moment I get out of here.'
'Brave words.'
'I mean it. I'm going to take that spear and ram it so far up his arsehole I'll knock his fucking teeth out… Sorry, pardon my Gallic, miss.'
Julia shook her head. 'Don't worry. I think we've gone some way towards outgrowing social niceties in recent days.'
'Somewhat easier for me than you, I imagine.'
'Yes…' Julia shifted and then let out a low groan, trying to find a more comfortable position as she leaned her back against the bars.
Macro turned his head and examined the scene down in the bay again. The cargo ships were large, bulky affairs that would be completely at the mercy of any Roman warships that they might encounter. However, the rebels would have plenty of warning that the warships were coming. The peninsula stretched out for the best part of two miles before it reached the narrow straits leading out to the sea. Ajax's men would see immediately if the Roman warships approached the entrance to the bay. There would be enough time to burn or sink all the grain ships.
He was suddenly aware of a light snuffling sound and turned back to see that Julia was trying to hide her tears again.
He opened his mouth to offer some comfort, but found there was nothing he could say. There was no comfort to offer. None at all, he realised.
'Macro?'
'Yes, miss?'
'Sometimes I wish you had killed me, back when you had the chance.'