Already half mad with pain, the stricken mount galloped off the path, down the slope, before stumbling. Rider and horse tumbled over and over amid the rocks and gorse for a moment, and then there was silence.
Macro staggered to his feet. He still felt dizzy and shook his head again to try and clear the sensation as he staggered towards the man he had wounded in the arm. The rebel was still in the saddle, moaning as he clutched at the wound. He did not see Macro until it was too late to escape. Macro took the reins and pointed his sword at the man.
'If you want to live, get off.'
The rebel nodded, and awkwardly eased his leg over the saddle and dropped to the ground on the far side of the horse. Then he rapidly backed away. Macro watched him carefully until the rebel was at a safe distance, then sheathed his sword and steadied the horse a moment before mounting it. The animal was skittish and Macro spoke to it calmly and clicked his tongue before walking it forward to join Cato.
'Are you all right?' Cato asked anxiously.
'Fine. Let's go.'
They urged their horses on and continued the pursuit. The brief fight had lost them some ground and Cato looked ahead keenly for any sight of the enemy as they rode along the narrow track. The route wound its way along the spine of the peninsula, and all the time he anticipated catching sight of the gladiator and his retinue again.
But there was no sign of them, and a terrible doubt formed in Cato's mind. Then the track crested a small rise that afforded a view of the peninsula stretching out ahead for some distance. Empty.
'Shit!' Cato hissed between clenched teeth.
'Where in Hades are they?' Macro growled.' How could we have missed them? How?'
'They must have gone off the main track,' Cato decided, cursing himself. 'We have to turn around.'
He yanked the reins round and trotted back along the track, glancing carefully from side to side. After a quarter of a mile he found what he was looking for; he had missed it as they had galloped past at speed a while earlier. A small path left the track, winding down the slope. They quickly turned aside from the main track and followed the path down as it wound between rocks and stunted trees. Below them they could hear the faint rush and hiss of waves on the shore, and then the track opened out on to the top of a small cliff before doubling back steeply as it carried on down towards a stretch of beach.
Cato heard voices shouting and the faint clatter of weapons. No more than a few hundred feet out to sea he saw the outline of a small Roman warship, and recognised it as one of the liburnians. A handful of smaller boats were clustered about the hull and Cato realised at once what was happening.
'Shit, that's the warship that ran aground. The rebels are taking it.'
They turned the horses down the path and urged them on. There was only a short distance to go, and then Cato and Macro emerged on to a thin strip of sand. The beach was a little over a hundred paces wide, and a handful of abandoned shacks lay clustered at the foot of the cliff. The rebels' horses had been left at the water's edge. A handful of small boats remained, and the two Romans swung themselves down from their saddles and ran across the sand towards them. Neither had sails, only oars. Cato grabbed the side of the nearest boat.
'Help me!'
He braced his feet in the surf and hauled the boat into the water as Macro grabbed the other side and pulled. It dragged stubbornly across the sand until a small wave lifted it up and they managed to heave it free of the shore. They pushed it out until the water was round their waists and then scrambled over the side. As Cato lifted the oars into the rowlock pegs and Macro sat heavily in the stern, the last sounds of fighting died away. The thin light of dawn filtered across the bay as Cato took his seat on the centre bench and desperately began to row out towards the liburnian. If the warship was still aground, then the rebels would not get away.
Cato knew that he and Macro were facing certain death once they reached the ship. He prayed that they might at least kill the gladiator before they were cut down, and that Julia could find some way to escape in the confusion. He looked over his shoulder and saw that he had closed the distance on the liburnian. Then he froze and looked more intently. The ship was moving up and down on the swell.
'I thought you said it had run aground,' said Macro.
'It was. The crew must have got her off just as the rebels came aboard.'
Cato realised that the marines must be dead, and the sailors and men at the oars were under the orders of Ajax and his followers. Cato started rowing again with all his strength, but his poor technique and frantic oar strokes were punished by the swell, which caused him to catch crabs on either side, one time lifting the oar right out of the pegs.
By the time they had closed to within fifty feet of the liburnian, Macro saw the long dark blades of the warship's oars bite down into the water. They made a stroke, rose, arced back and plunged into the sea again as the sleek vessel edged forwards.
'They're under way,' he said softly.
'No!' Cato groaned as he desperately redoubled his efforts.' No.
Please gods, no.'
The liburnian steadily gathered pace and began to swing out into the Bay of Olous, opening the gap between it and Cato. He kept rowing frantically, his limbs aching with the strain. The outline of the liburnian foreshortened as she presented her stern. Witha sickening certainty he knew that there was no chance of catching her now. He dropped the oars, rose to his feet, turned and braced his legs apart as he cupped his hands to his mouth and cried out,'Julia!..Julia!'
There was a pause before he heard her voice call back: ' Cato! Help me!'
Then she was cut off.
A pair of figures loomed up on the liburnians stern raiclass="underline" Ajax, holding Julia tightly by the arm. He called out, mockingly,'You have lost her, Cato. Lost her for ever.'
'Julia!'
'She is mine now. Mine to do with as I will. Remember that.
Remember the vengeance of Ajax every day for the rest of your life.'
'No!' The cry was torn from Cato's lips.' No! '
Suddenly Julia's spare hand rose up. There was a glimmer of metal in her grip and she stabbed down into Ajax's shoulder. He recoiled with a bellow of surprise, pain and rage, glancing at the comb sticking out of his shoulder. Instinctively he reached for the wound with his other hand, releasing Julia. At once she threw herself over the stern rail, tumbling down into the sea with a splash. The liburnian was already gathering speed, and as Julia's head emerged above the water, gasping, the gap between her and the stern of the warship quickly grew. Cato had hurriedly taken up his oars again and was speeding the little craft across the water towards her as she struck out towards them with frantic splashing strokes.
Ajax had pulled the bloodied comb out and stood glaring down into the sea. There was nothing he could do to prevent her escape.
By the time he could turn the warship round and head back towards the beach, the little boat would have reached the shore again and his enemies would have escaped on the horses still on the beach. Besides, one of the Roman triremes was already heading back down the bay to come to the assistance of the liburnian that had run aground.
As the boat approached Julia, Macro scrambled to the bows, leaning over to reach out for her. Julia grabbed his wrist, and he hauled her closer before stretching out his spare hand to lift her under the shoulder.