Leaning to his right, the gladiator thrust down into the neck exposed as a legionary stumbled. It was a shallow thrust, no more than a few inches, but it would mortally wound his enemy, and Ajax rode on, keeping his head low. He saw a crested helmet to one side, and steered towards the centurion attempting to rally his unit. At the last moment the man turned, and in the glow of the ship blazing behind the gladiator his eyes widened. He was too late to react, and the tip of Ajax's blade smashed through his eye, shattering his skull as it plunged on into his brain. Ripping the blade free, Ajax turned his horse again.
Glancing round, Ajax saw that his charge had broken the Roman attack. Several legionaries were down, some had grouped back to back in small clusters, while others were retreating along the beach.
He had bought his men only a brief respite. Less than a hundred paces away, the second Roman formation was advancing towards the rebels, a solid wall of shields with standards raised behind the leading ranks. An order was barked and the legionaries clattered their swords against the sides of their shields, producing a deafening metallic din that unnerved Ajax's horse.
'Easy, easy there.' He patted its flank and realised that his bodyguard was the only rebel group standing firm on the beach. The rest were falling back. With a hiss of frustration, Ajax knew that the fight on the beach was lost. It might still be possible to deploy Kharim's men, many of whom had weapons and armour looted from the Roman soldiers they had killed. They might hold the legionaries back long enough for the rest of the army to be rallied, ready to hurl themselves on the hated Romans.
'Fall back!' Ajax ordered. 'To the camp!'
The horsemen turned and rode back along the beach, covering the retreat of those on foot retreating before them. As they passed the ships, the Romans on board watched them silently, too exhausted to cheer as their enemy gave ground. But once they caught sight of their comrades advancing along the beach, below their standards, a cheer rose up, passed on from ship to ship, and as he heard it, Ajax's lips twisted into a bitter snarl of frustration.
When he returned through the gateway of the palisade, he saw Kharim on his horse, watching intently. Catching sight of him, Kharim waved an arm and spurred his horse forward.
'General! The sentries report another Roman force moving down from their camp.' He thrust his arm up towards the slope. 'Over a thousand of them, with cavalry on the wings.'
Ajax stared at him, then looked back at the enemy marching along the beach. Around him the rebels were milling about, directionless and afraid. He took a deep breath and roared,'Form ranks! Form up and hold your ground! We can win this! We can beat them! We've done it before and we can do it again! Stand firm!'
His shouts were interrupted by fresh notes from the Roman horns along the beach, answered by more blasts from the direction of the hills, and the clatter of swords on shields began again, rising to deafening intensity. The rebels began to shuffle back, and those on the fringes of the crowd beyond the gate began to disperse, hurrying away from the converging Roman forces.
'Stand your ground!' Ajax yelled again, but it was too late. Fear passed through the rebels like a wind, and a tide of men flowed into the night, back through the camp, as they ran to save their lives. Ajax watched them go, and his heart set like lead in his breast. He suddenly felt a terrible burden of weariness settle on his shoulders and he turned to face the oncoming Romans.
'General!' Kharim shouted. 'What shall we do?'
'Do?' Ajax shook his head. 'All is lost. There is nothing we can do but die with a sword in our hands.'
'No!' Kharim edged his horse alongside Ajax and grabbed his arm. 'General, you still live, and while you live you can keep the fight against Rome alive. If you die now, then it has been for nothing.
While you live, the rebellion is not finished.'
Ajax turned and looked at him with a bleak expression. 'What can I hope to achieve now, my friend?'
Kharim thought quickly. 'We have hostages. We can still make a deal if we escape with them. There are some fishing boats in a small cove not far from your tent.'
For a moment Ajax wanted nothing more than a quick death. But then the sense of Kharim's words penetrated his mind. The Parthian was right: the rebellion would never be over while some men kept the spirit of it alive in the hearts of the empire's slaves. He must escape, and take the hostages with him.
'Very well.' He nodded to his comrade. 'We will go. Come!'
He turned his horse and beckoned to his bodyguards, and then began to ride back through the camp around the end of the bay, towards his tents on the peninsula beyond. On all sides the rebels gathered up their families and loot and fled from the approaching Romans. Ajax spared them a moment's pity. The trap was closed.
There would be no escape for them, only death or a return to slavery.
Three of the ships were on fire by the time Cato and his men had cleared the decks of the anchored vessels. Only two of the rebel fire parties had managed to set their ships ablaze before taking to their tenders and escaping towards the shore. The fire had spread to the third ship and all three now threatened the rest of the vessels anchored in the bay.
'Atticus!' Cato called the optio over. 'Gather up twenty men. We have to cut those ships out before the fire spreads any further.'
Cato turned and, with Vulso and Musa, made his way across the intervening vessels to the one next to the nearest burning ship. The heat from the flames roaring up from the vessel's hold struck him a stinging blow, and he raised an arm to protect his face as he looked around. Two lines joined this ship to the one ablaze.
Cato crouched down in the shelter of the ship's side to give his orders. 'You two take the aft line. I'll go forward.'
Crouching low, he scrambled to the hawse hole near the bows and drew his dagger. The cable was made from coarse hemp and was thick as a man's wrist. He began to saw at it furiously. The deck around him was brightly lit by the burning ships and the hot air was filled with the roar of flames and the crack of timber bursting from the intense temperature generated by the blaze. Sparks and glowing shreds of sails swirled through the air, and Cato winced as one landed on his back.
He shook it off and continued cutting at the rope, hoping that they could complete the job before the fire spread to any more of the grain ships. One of the strands of the cable parted and the tension instantly increased on the remaining strands, making themeasier.to cut.
Gritting his teeth, Cato worked at them with every ounce of his strength, the edge of the dagger biting through the dense material.
Another strand parted and one remained, thin and hard as bone.
'Come on, you bastard,' Cato muttered. 'Break.'
With a dull crack the dagger severed the last strand and the end of the cable vanished through the hole. Cato rose up and squinted into the heated air as he waited for the burning ship to drift away.
Glancing aft, he saw Vulso and Musa running towards him.
'Cable's cut, sir,' Vulso called out. 'But she's not moving off.'
Cato nodded. 'I saw. We'll have to fend her away' He pointed to one of the sweeps lashed to the ship's side. 'We can use that. Come on!'
They hurriedly untied the simple fastenings holding the long oar in place and then manhandled the broad-bladed end over the rail, against the side of the other vessel.
Cato took a firm grip on the shaft and braced his feet. 'All right then, heave!'
The three of them leaned into the long oar with all their might.
Slowly, slowly, Cato sensed the other ship begin to give, and he shuffled forward a pace and called out,'She's moving! Keep at it!'