'At one stroke I have the power to feed Rome, or let her starve. Once the emperor knows that I have his grain fleet, he will have to discuss terms with me.'
Now it was Macro's turn to sneer. 'And what makes you think he should bother with you? Those are Roman warships outside the bay. You cannot escape with those cargo ships, and you cannot defend them adequately if they remain in the bay. The navy will pick its own time, then sail in bold as brass and take those ships from you.'
'Really? You must think I was born yesterday,' Ajax mocked him.
'Those warships will not dare to enter the bay, because the moment they do, I shall give the order to burn the grain fleet. So, my dear friends, you can see the situation for yourselves. I have got your emperor by the balls. Sadly, that makes you two little more than a detail, an entertainment, and the time is fast approaching when I will have no further need of you.'
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Cato gave orders for the camp to be constructed on the high ground overlooking Olous as the column completed the fourth day's march. The auxiliaries advanced a short way down the slope to form a protective screen while the legionaries set down their marching yokes, took up their pickaxes and shovels and began to dig into the stony ground. It was hot and the work was back-breaking after a hard day's march, but it was part of the daily routine while on campaign, and aside from the usual grumbling the men carried out their work efficiently. By the time the sun had set behind the hills to the west, a ditch surrounded the camp, within which a rampart and palisade provided adequate defence against any attempt at a surprise attack.
Once the camp was ready, the auxiliaries were called in and the column settled down for the night. There was no moon in the sky, and though the stars shone brilliantly, the landscape was wreathed in darkness. Mindful of the enemy's willingness to take the initiative, Cato doubled the watch and had a full cohort stand to along the palisade and keep watch over the approaches to the camp. Accompanied by Fulvius, he made an inspection of the defences before the two of them returned to the headquarters tents in the heart of the camp, occupying a small mound overlooking the ramparts and on towards the enemy. The fires of the rebels glittered in a huge arc around the dark waters of the bay, dwarfing the neat lines of the Roman camp. Out at sea, three lamps glimmered where the warships lay hove to, keeping watch on the entrance to the bay. The rest of the fleet was beached in a cove some miles to the north, and Cato had sent for the navarch in command of the ships to come and report to him the next day.
'The buggers aren't short of men,' Fulvius muttered as he surveyed the enemy.
Cato shrugged.' Numbers aren't everything. We have better men and the better position. If they attack, they'll have to do it uphill, and they'll have to get over the ditch and the palisade. Our men can deal with any of them that get close enough to come to blows.'
'I hope you're right, sir,' Fulvius muttered. 'So what happens now?
Looks like something of a stand-off. We can beat off their attacks, but we might not have sufficient men to take their camp.'
'The situation is to our advantage. We're camped across the only road out of Olous to the rest of the island. The navy blocks access to the sea, so we have them trapped. The main problem for us will be keeping supplied with food and water. We have enough for five more days before I have to send a detachment back to Gortyna with the wagons for more rations. Of course, that's not a problem for the rebels now that they have their hands on the grain fleet. They could live off that for months. With the streams that run off the hills, they won't be short of water either. However, the reality is that it is their turn to be under siege.'
Fulvius seemed doubtful, and gestured to the hills surrounding the bay. 'If they wanted to get away, they could slip over these hills easily enough.'
'If they wanted to get away. But they don't. They have their carts and wagons with them, weighed down by loot, and then there's the grain fleet. That is their one chance to cut a deal with Rome. And that's why Ajax won't abandon those ships.' Cato paused and looked over to where a line of torches marked the palisade that had been erected to protect the beached ships.' The trick of it will be in finding a way of separating the rebels from the ships. We have to act soon. The grain fleet has already been delayed. Before long the stocks in the imperial warehouses are going to be exhausted, and Rome will starve. If we can't rescue those ships in time...'
Cato turned away and strode towards his tent. Fulvius scratched his cheek for a moment and then followed his superior. Inside the tent, Cato had unfastened the clasp of his cloak and flung it over towards his bedroll. There were few of the usual refinements of a senior officer in the tent, since there had been no time to arrange for any at Gortyna. Comfort had been the last thing on his mind when Cato set off in pursuit of the rebels, and so there was only a small campaign table and a handful of chests containing the column's pay records, strength returns and spare waxed slates. He yawned as he unfastened the buckles of his harness and drew it, and then the chainmail vest, over his head. He let them drop heavily by the bedroll. The march in the hot sun, and his exhaustion, had left him with a headache, and he declined the wine that Fulvius offered him from a jug that had been left out by one of the headquarters servants.
Fulvius shrugged, and filled a goblet almost to the brim before he eased himself down on to a chest with a sigh. 'So then, what do we do now?'
'Nothing we can do tonight. Tomorrow we'll scout the enemy camp and see if there are any weak points that we might attack.'
'You are thinking of an attack then?' Fulvius probed.
'I don't see what else I can do. Some of the grain ships will no doubt be lost during the fight, but we have to rescue what we can and hope that it is enough to keep Rome going until another fleet can be gathered to fetch more grain from Egypt. It'll be a bloody business if we have to attack, and if anything goes wrong, if the men break, then we'll be cut to pieces.'
'The lads of the Twenty-Second won't let you down, sir. They'll fight well, and if the attack fails then they'll keep formation when we fall back.'
'I hope you are right,' Cato replied wearily.' Now then, that's all for tonight. I'm turning in.'
Fulvius drained his cup and stood up. 'I'll have one last turn round the camp, sir. So I can sleep easy'
'Very well.' Cato nodded. Once the centurion had left the tent, he took off his boots, extinguished the oil lamp and lay down on the bedroll. Even though it was a hot night, there was a gentle breeze blowing, enough to cool Cato's brow and make it worth keeping his tunic on. His head felt thick with exhaustion, and it was a struggle to think clearly as he lay and stared up at the goatskin tent overhead.
The moment he tried to settle into a comfortable position to sleep, his mind filled with images of Julia and Macro. If they were still alive, they were not more than a mile or two from where he lay. It had taken every fibre of his self-control to hide his feelings from Fulvius and the other men under his command. Inside, his heart felt like a lump of lead, weighing his body down. The worst moments came when his imagination thrust images of their torment to the front of his mind, making him feel sick with helplessness and despair until he forced such thoughts aside and concentrated his mind elsewhere.
He lay on his mattress, turning frequently, and ended up curled in a ball on his side before his weary body and exhausted mind finally succumbed to sleep.
Cato was woken by the blare of a buccina sounding the change of watch. He blinked his eyes open and winced at the stiffness in his back. Sunlight slanted through the open flaps of the tent and he instantly scrambled to his feet, furious that he had not been roused.