'Yes, sir. Let me go down and get the legate.'
'No. You take my shield. I'll do it,' Macro decided.
Hamedes came forward, squeezing between the archer and Macro, and took hold of the handle. Macro grasped his shoulder as he gave him his orders. 'Move forward, nice and slow, like. No more than ten paces into the next section of tunnel. The archer goes with you. Keep harassing whoever it is that's down there taking pot shots. Clear?'
Hamedes and the archer nodded.
'Then get on with it.'
As soon as the rope was ready Macro tied a loop in the end and put his boot in. He eased himself over the edge, clinging to the rope with both hands as his men took the strain and began to lower him into the pit. As soon as his boot touched the ground, Macro let go and scrambled across the rubble to the legate. Aurelius's eyes had closed and his breathing was swift and shallow. Macro carefully examined his body and felt a swelling around the legate's leg and the misshapen bend to his left arm. The back of his head was drenched in blood and felt pulpy. Aurelius let out a long deep groan and Macro withdrew his hands.
'You're in a bad way, old son.' Macro shook his head sadly. 'Best get you out of here quickly.' He pulled the rope over, called for some slack and then fastened it around the legate's chest, under his arms.
'Pull him up, nice and gently!'
The rope creaked under the burden as Macro guided the legate's body into the air. Halfway up he began to tremble wildly and let out a series of breathless grunts. Then he reached the ramp and the auxiliaries pulled him up the tunnel and returned the end of the rope to Macro. When he had climbed back up, Macro took a deep breath and gave his orders. 'Get the legate and the wounded man out of the tomb. Tribune Cato can have them taken straight back to the main camp. Meanwhile, we'll settle our business here.'
Macro made his way into the tunnel and rejoined Hamedes. The archer was squatting down beside the priest, making no attempt to shoot down the tunnel.
'What the hell have you stopped for?' Macro demanded.
'There's been nothing coming the other way for a while now, sir,' the archer explained.
'Fair enough,' Macro relented. 'Let's push on. Hamedes, you take charge of the torch, keep it as high as you can.'
With Macro holding the shield to the front, and the torch held up and to the side, while the archer fitted another arrow, the three men continued slowly down the tunnel, followed by the rest of the small force. Soon, Macro could discern another chamber ahead of them. This time, the space was illuminated as the defenders had lit some torches of their own. Another arrow whipped up the tunnel towards them, going to the side where it ricocheted off the wall. Macro kept moving. Now he could clearly hear voices ahead of them. He continued forward, to the threshold of the new chamber, and by the light of a torch left burning on the ground he could see that it was larger than the one they had passed through earlier but had a solid floor with square columns running down its length, also cut from the rock.
There was no sign of the defenders. Macro waited for the rest of his men to join him and prepare to charge into the chamber as soon as he gave the order. A movement by one of the columns to his left drew Macro's eye just as the man loosed an arrow. It struck the wall close to Macro's head and he felt a chip of stone cut into his chin.
He snarled, turning towards the man.
Macro roared as he rushed down the length of the chamber towards the enemy who hurriedly prepared his next arrow. He just had time to raise the bow, draw the string and release the arrow before Macro reached him. The arrow zipped past Macro's ear, and then he smashed his shield into his opponent, sending him flying back. He hit the floor with a solid thud. Macro looked quickly from side to side, but there was no movement except for the auxiliary soldiers spilling out into the chamber. By the light of the torches Macro saw that the man he had downed had a large stained dressing on his thigh. Near him, on the floor of the chamber, was a makeshift walking stick fashioned from a cavalry lance. He had recovered from the blow and was already reaching for his bow. Macro stepped forward and kicked it away. The man reached for the dagger in his belt instead, drawing it and making a wild slash at Macro's leg. Macro parried the blow and stepped outside the range of the dagger.
'Drop it!'
The gladiator shuffled away until he reached the wall of the chamber and then he leaned back and held the dagger out, ready to strike again.
'I said drop it.'
'Fuck you, Roman!' the rebel spat. 'If you want it, come and get it!'
He held the knife up, daring Macro. With an impatient sigh, Macro stepped forward, parried the dagger low on his shield and then thrust his blade into the man's chest. He gasped under the impact, then slumped aside as Macro wrenched the blade free and turned away. 'Any more of them here?'
None of his men replied and Macro frowned as he sheathed his sword. 'Where the hell are they all? Where is Ajax?'
'Sir! Over here!'
Macro found one of his men pointing to a small opening on the far side of the chamber. There was a short slope down into yet another chamber. Macro squatted and cocked his head for a better look. There was no sign of any movement. He tried to listen but the footsteps of his men and their muttering filled the chamber.
'Stand still!' Macro bellowed.
As the last echo faded away, he listened again. There was no sound from the chamber. Nothing. Then he heard it, the faintest of sounds, like a dog panting in the distance.
'Ajax!… Ajax, you are trapped. I'll give you one chance to surrender, then we're coming for you and your men… Ajax, you hear me?'
There came no reply as he had expected and Macro listened again and then muttered, 'Damn.' He turned back to his men. 'I'm going down there. I'll call for you if I need help. If there's any trouble then you pile in and take no prisoners. Got it?'
Macro sheathed his sword and took one of the torches held by his men and inspected the passage more closely. It was steeper than the others they had descended, but no more than twenty feet in length. The floor of another chamber opened out beyond. Macro tested his boots at the top of the ramp but it was clear that he would not be able to keep his feet if he tried to walk down. Instead he crouched down, pushing his shield out at a shallow angle in front of him and held the torch aloft in his sword hand.
'Be careful, sir,' said Hamedes.
Macro smiled at him. 'Here I go.'
Macro shifted his weight and began to slide down the tunnel, his nailed boots scraping over the stone. The rush of air made the torch burn brighter, filling the narrow passage with a fiery glow. Then he entered the chamber and took half a step forward to establish his balance as he reached flat ground. He quickly turned from side to side, waving the torch in front of him. The chamber was much smaller than the one above, with just four columns. There was a crudely fashioned ladder, some discarded cloaks and waterskins lying on the ground but no sign of anyone, nor any sign of another opening in its walls.
Then he heard some scrabbling coming from the far corner of the chamber. Macro raised his torch towards it and saw a man sitting propped up against the wall. He wore only a loincloth and like his comrade in the chamber above he was wounded; he had a large dressing covering his stomach. He held a dagger in his hand but made no attempt to raise it towards Macro. The centurion cautiously approached him and the glow of the torch revealed the man's glistening skin and the sweat that dripped from his brow. His chest rose and fell in short jerks as he struggled to breathe. He shut his eyes for an instant and then blinked them open, trying to focus on Macro.