The Legion

'Aurelius is dead. I am the commander of the army,' Cato responded.

'You?' For a moment the Nubian hesitated, then shrugged. 'Whether or not that is true, it makes no difference to what I have to say. So hear me, Roman. I am Talmis, Prince of Nubia, lion of the desert and commander of the army you see before you.' He swept his arm out to indicate the massed ranks stretching across the landscape. 'I have brooked Roman interference in our lands for too long. The time for retribution is at hand. I will not sheath my sword until my honour is satisfied, or it has tasted the blood of many Romans.'

Macro coughed and gestured casually towards the Prince's scabbard and the jewelled handle of his weapon. 'If that is the, uh, sword in question, then it's only fair to point out that it is already sheathed.'

'Macro,' Cato muttered through clenched teeth. 'Be quiet!'

The Prince eased his mount forward, its legs high-stepping as he edged it close to Macro and glared into the centurion's face. Macro raised his eyebrows quizzically.

'Is this your pet comedian, Legate? I shall look forward to seeing how he laughs when I have my men disembowel him.'

'Centurion Macro is inclined to speak his mind more than is good for him,' Cato responded evenly. 'However, he does not speak for Rome. I do. What is it that you wish to say to me, Prince?'

Talmis stared at Macro a moment longer then sniffed with contempt and turned to Cato.

'I come to offer my terms for peace. Rome will cede all of the land south of Ombos to Nubia. In addition, I want half of this year's harvest from the province. And ten talents of gold.' His eyes narrowed shrewdly. 'The Roman measure of talents. Not Egyptian. These terms are not negotiable. If you refuse, then I will continue my advance along the Nile, sacking your cities and burning your crops as I go. Even as far as Alexandria.'

Macro laughed. 'I doubt that Rome would permit that. You come within a hundred miles of Alexandria and the Emperor will send enough legions to the region to obliterate you and your army.'

Prince Talmis shrugged. 'Nubia is a big land, Roman. Big enough for me to continue retreating until your legions die of exhaustion, or thirst. Rome does not frighten me. Well?'

'Your terms are unacceptable,' Cato said simply. 'The negotiations are over.'

He pulled on his reins and turned his horse away and began to walk it back towards the camp. His escort followed suit, with wary looks over their shoulders. At first Prince Talmis was silent, fists clenched in rage. Then he stabbed a finger towards the backs of the Roman horsemen.

'So be it! Within days the vultures will be picking your bones clean!' He snatched at his reins, forcing his horse round sharply, then he spurred it back towards his army, his robes flapping like the wings of a crow while his followers struggled to keep up.

Macro watched him briefly and then edged his mount closer to Cato. 'That was pretty blunt. What are you thinking?'

Cato spoke with a resigned air. 'What else could I say? I have no authority to accept his terms. Even if I did, the Emperor could never afford to. So we will have our battle.'

'When?'

'Tomorrow. At dawn.'

Prince Talmis and his senior officers had completed their plans for the disposition of the Nubian army and were feasting on heavily spiced mutton when their meal was interrupted. The captain of the Prince's bodyguard, a large scarred warrior, eased aside the tent flap and entered. Four of his men followed, either side of a tall figure in a ragged tunic and scale armour vest. His skin and hair were matted with sweat and dust and it took the Prince a moment to recognise him.

'Ajax…'

The other officers stopped eating as they turned to look at the gladiator. Their conversation faltered and an uneasy silence filled the tent. Prince Talmis wiped the grease from his fingers on the hem of his robe and leaned back from the polished silver tray from which he had been dining. He stroked his jaw in contemplation as he stared at Ajax.

'Is this the man who claimed that he would be a valuable ally in the war against Rome, I wonder?' he asked with cold sarcasm. 'From the look of you it would appear that you have seen some hard fighting. Is that so?'

'Yes, Highness.' Ajax bowed his head.

'I take it you had the worst of it.'

'Yes.'

'I see. Then tell me, have you achieved what I asked of you?'

Ajax, weary as he was, stood stiffly at full height, dominating the bodyguards who stood around him. 'My men have killed and wounded many of the Romans, as you wished, Highness. We took one of their forts, slaughtered its garrison and burned it to the ground.'

'And what of our casualties?'

Ajax hesitated briefly before replying. 'I regret to say that I and a few of my followers are all that survive. The rest are lost.'

Prince Talmis's eyes widened, and his officers exchanged anxious glances, waiting for him to give vent to his anger. The Prince's lips twitched. 'Lost? Explain.'

'After the fort was destroyed the Romans sent a force across the Nile to deal with my column, Highness. We held the bank for as long as we could before falling back on a temple that I had ordered the men to fortify. There we made our stand.'

'Not you apparently.'

'I had done as much as I could. My death would not have affected the outcome. My life, on the other hand, guarantees that I will continue to be a threat to the Romans. Which is to the benefit of us all, Your Highness.'

'How did you escape?'

'My spy arranged to save me and a handful of others.'

Talmis nodded slowly and was silent for a moment before he responded. 'So, you have cost me five hundred men. Is this what you meant by being of use to me? You, your men and your spy have failed me,' he concluded in a tone of contempt.

'We have killed many Romans, Highness. And I succeeded in holding back their advance for two days. As you wished.'

'That is so. But I do not consider the loss of five hundred of my men a success. In any case, I have the enemy where I want them now so your usefulness to me has been played out, gladiator.'

Ajax's eyes narrowed and he replied in a low, even tone. 'What do you mean by that, Your Highness?'

'The Romans will be crushed tomorrow so I will have no more need of you. If you had been one of my officers I would have had your head by now for the unnecessary loss of a considerable number of my men.'

'In order to fulfil your orders the loss was unavoidable, Highness.'

'I wonder.'

'And I am not one of your officers,' Ajax went on. 'I am Ajax, commander of the slave revolt on Crete. While I live Rome trembles,' Ajax blustered. 'If you kill me, you only serve the interests of Rome.'

'Perhaps,' Talmis conceded. 'However, your execution will provide a valuable example to the rest of my men of the price of failing me.'

'But I have not failed you.'

'I disagree. It is possible that your death will suit my purposes better than your continued service.'

Ajax glared at the Prince. 'You called me an ally.'

'A prince has no allies. He has only servants and enemies. It is up to him how to use his servants.'

The gladiator spat on the ground in contempt. At once the captain of the guard turned and struck him on the side of the head. Then he stood, fist clenched, daring the gladiator to defy the Prince again. Ajax shook his head to clear the dizziness caused by the blow. He looked at the Prince and spoke in a low voice. 'You are making a mistake, Highness. Kill me, and you kill the hope of all those slaves who wait to rise up against Rome.'

'Be silent, gladiator!' the Prince commanded. 'One more word and your life is forfeit.' He pressed his lips together in a cruel, thin line as he stared at Ajax. The other men in the tent dared not move as they waited for their master to continue. At length the Prince raised a finger and pointed at the gladiator. 'Your fate is mine to decide. It may be true that I have more to gain by keeping you alive and letting you spread your poison through the Emperor's domains. I will think on it. For now, you are my prisoner. I need to ponder on your fate.' He clicked his fingers at the captain of his bodyguard. 'Take this slave away. Place him under close guard, somewhere safe. He is not to be harmed. Nor is he to escape. If he does, you will answer for it with your life. Go.'