The Eagle In the Sand - Scarrow Simon. Страница 59

'No!' Cato growled. 'No you fucking don't!'

He brought his knee up hard between the man's legs and felt the kneecap thud into his genitals. The man gasped and rolled his eyes and for an instant his hands loosened their grip.With a convulsive heave of his whole body Cato thrust him off, and then stabbed his sword into the man's side as soon as his right arm was free. The blade slid out of the wound with a wet sucking noise and Cato scrambled back on to his feet. On either side his men had cut down several more of the enemy, but already many more were appearing in the glow of the flames. Far too many to take on, and with the confidence of numbers the enemy surged towards the Romans. Cato realised that he and his men had done all that they could. To remain here for another instant was to invite death.

'Fall back!' he cried out. 'Go!'

He turned and raced away from the enemy, between the burning onagers, and back towards the safety of the darkness. His men hurried after him, breathing heavily from their exertions and excitement. The enemy came on, rushing after the Romans in a wave. Some realised what their true priority was and leaped towards the blazing onagers, heedless of the scorching heat as they desperately struggled to pull away the blazing wood piled round the thick timbers of the frames. A few scooped up sand and tried to smother the flames, while others pulled off their cloaks and tried to beat the flames out. But more, many more, were filled with a desire for revenge on those Romans who had dared to venture from the fort to attack their camp.They charged past the burning onagers and rushed after Cato and his men, pursuing them into the darkness beyond the orange loom of the flames.

'On me!' Cato called out. He wanted his men close, to make sure that they passed through the defences together. To his right was the dark bulk of the fort, with torches flaring in each of the corner towers. And there, halfway along the wall, the spark of light from the oil lamp, and behind, at an angle, the dimmer flame of the lamp in the window of the headquarters building.

'Keep going,' Cato muttered to the dim shadows beside and behind him. Further off he heard the shouts of the men pursuing them. 'Stay with me.'

They ran on, instinctively edging towards the fort as the two small lights closed on one another. Then the inevitable happened. Just as Cato reached the point where the flames overlapped there was a cry of pain just behind him. He spun round and saw a dark shape rolling on the ground, groaning through gritted teeth.

'What's happened?'

'It's Petronius, sir. He's stepped on a caltrop.'

Cato dropped to the man's side and felt his way down the calf, over the boot, until his fingers brushed the iron prongs.There was no time to spare, and Cato grasped the spikes and wrenched the caltrop from the man's boot. Petronius cried out in surprise and pain and at once there was a shout from the men chasing them as they made for the sound.

'Shit,' Cato muttered. 'Get him up. We're in line with the passage. Head for the wall, and keep those lights in line.'

Cato counted seven men passing him and waited a moment for the rest, but then he heard the enemy shouting close by and he turned to follow his men.Their pursuers were closer than he thought and several figures appeared from the gloom, and shouted to the others the moment they caught sight of Cato making off from them, as fast as he dared, through the fort's outer defences. With their prey in view the enemy ran heedlessly towards Cato, straight across the defences at an angle to the passage the Romans were doing their best to follow. Cato continued for a few more steps before he turned and crouched low, ready to defend himself. There was a shrill cry as the nearest man tumbled over, and clutched at his foot. Then another man went down, and a third stumbled into one of the shallow pits. Only one of them made it as far as Cato and launched himself at the Roman, thrusting a long-bladed sword at the centre of the centurion's body. Cato just had time to sweep his sword over and counter the blow, then the man slashed horizontally, forcing him to drop on one knee and duck his head. As the blade swished overhead Cato slashed out with his own sword at knee height and felt it cut into the joint with a wet, jarring thud that severed tendons and smashed bones so that the enemy fell sprawling on his back, crying out. Cato left him, and shuffled to his side until the lights were aligned. Then he set off again.

Behind him the Judaeans had realised the danger and stopped short of the outer defences. Cato smiled to himself. His plan had worked as he had hoped. All that remained was to gain the wall and move along it to the sally port and then the night's raid was over. Something thudded into the sand beside him. Then again, just behind his boot so that he felt the spray of grit against his calf. Frustrated by the defences, the enemy were throwing stones after the Romans.

Cato hunched his head down and quickened his pace to a slow trot, fearing that at any moment he would feel the stab of iron bursting through the soles of his boots, leaving him crippled and helpless. Suddenly he was upon his own men, and he drew up sharply, almost stumbling over them.

'What the fuck are you doing? Get moving.'

'Can't, sir.' It was one of the men who was helping Petronius. 'Glabarus was hit by a stone. Knocked him cold.'

Cato felt an instant of panic as he stared down at the three men, one lying still on the ground, Petronius slumped to one knee and the third man still holding him under the shoulder and trying to keep him up. Glancing back Cato saw that the Judaeans were moving along the limit of the defences behind them. Any moment they would reach the opening of the passage and it was possible that one of them would be observant enough to work out the significance of the aligned lamps. A moment later his fears were confirmed as the nearest of the men edged cautiously in amongst the narrow path between the traps. Cato swallowed nervously and realised his mouth felt as dry as the sand stretching out around them. He made the only decision that he could and bent down to Petronius' free side and raised the man up.

'Let's get going.'

'What about Glabarus, sir?'

'We have to leave him.'

'No!'

'Shut up and move.'

'But he's my mate.'

Cato fought down the rage that threatened to erupt and spoke as calmly as he could. 'We can't carry both of them. We have to leave him. Or we all die. Now let's go.'

He started forward and as the other man felt the tug of Petronius' weight he was forced to move forward, and only had time to spare his friend a brief last glance. Cato kept glancing up at the lights to make sure they stayed on course and did not dare to look back over his shoulder as the enemy came on behind them. They reached the ditch and half scrambled, half slithered down the slope, across the bottom and up the far slope, under the burden of the injured man. Then they were moving along the narrow strip of flat earth at the base of the wall, making for the sally port. Cato could just make out the shapes of the rest of his party ahead of him and willed himself on.The safety of the fort's walls was mere moments away.

There was a flare overhead and the crackle of burning sticks, and a ball of flame arced down from the wall and bounced into the ditch, lighting up the area around it. Looking back Cato could see the first of the Judaeans to clear the outer defences scrambling down into the ditch, caught in the light of the burning faggot. He heard Macro's voice bellow out.

'Archers! Shoot 'em down!'

Feathered shafts whipped through the air and thudded into the men pursuing Cato and the others, sending several sprawling, and causing the others to halt and stare up at the new danger. More arrows found their target and stopped them dead in their tracks. Cato looked away, back towards the sally port, and hurried on. The thick wooden door was already open and they thrust Petronius inside and then squeezed through after him and slumped to the ground gasping for breath.