Fulvius clicked his fingers. 'That's why they abandoned the siege!
Ajax must have got news that the grain fleet had been forced to make for the bay'
Cato nodded. 'And now he's got his hands on the food supply of Rome. You can be sure that if we don't do what he says, he'll destroy the fleet and all the grain. If that happens, a month from now the mob are going to be tearing Rome to pieces.'
THE BAY AT OLOUS
ROMAN
ROMAN
CAMP
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Macro stared out through the bars, down the slope of the hill into the bay. It was late in the morning and sunlight streamed through the bars of the cage, casting stark shadows across the grim interior. Around them the slaves settled into their new camp, which sprawled across the slopes of the hills. Ajax had chosen to have his tents erected on the narrow rocky peninsula that shielded the bay from the open sea. The men of his war band, together with their women and children, were camped around him in a rough circle, and Macro could see no way to escape from the camp, even if he and Julia could get out of the cage. Thanks to their filthy state they would instantly attract attention and would be quickly hunted down and recaptured the moment the alarm was raised.
Down in the bay, he could see the rebels hastily setting up defences around those ships that had been beached. A crude palisade was under construction a short distance inland, with towers at regular intervals. The crews of the grain ships, and the small marine contingents that had been put aboard to protect them from pirates, were being held in a stockade in the heart of the main camp. The ships themselves were now under close guard by the rebels. The most heavily damaged by the storm were beached, while the rest were rafted together and lay at anchor out in the bay. Ajax was taking no chances with his precious prizes, with good reason.
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.