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'Look out!' Macro grabbed Cato's arm and pulled him back as a heavily laden camel crossed in front of them. The beast's wooden-framed saddle was weighed down with bales of finely woven material and it let out a deep grunt as it stepped aside to avoid the two Romans.When it had swayed past, Cato pushed on again, and suddenly paused.
'What's the matter?' asked Macro.
'Shit… I can't see them.' Cato's eyes hurriedly skimmed over the section of the crowd where he had last seen their prey. But there was no sign of the hooded men. 'They must have lowered their hoods.'
'Oh, great,' Macro muttered. 'What now?'
'Let's make for the tax collectors. That's where they seemed to be heading.'
With Cato leading the way, the two centurions moved over to the end of the line of stalls stretching alongside the steps that led up to the walls of the i
A sudden outburst of shouting and screaming drew Cato and Macro's attention to the far end of the line of stalls. A group of men had charged out of the crowd. Sunlight flashed off the side of a blade and Cato realised the men were all armed as they closed in round one of the tax collectors, like wolves at the kill. His bodyguard took one look at the blades, turned and ran. The tax collector flung up his arms to protect his face and disappeared from sight as his attackers fell on him. Cato's hand automatically snatched at his sword as he ducked round behind the line of stalls.
'Come on, Macro!'
There was a rasp as Macro's blade was drawn behind Cato and then the two of them sprinted towards the killers, thrusting the moneylenders aside and leaping over their stacks of record slates. Ahead of him Cato saw the men draw back from the tax collector, now slumped over the top of his stall, his white tunic torn and bloody. In front of the stall the crowd drew back in a panic, crying out in terror as they turned and ran.The attackers turned on the men behind the next stall.They had frozen for an instant before realising the terrible danger they were in, but now they attempted to scramble away from the men brandishing the short curved blades that gave them their name: the sicarians – assassins of the most extreme fringe of the Judaean zealots resisting Roman rule.
The sicarians were so intent on their killing frenzy that they did not notice Cato and Macro until the last moment, when the nearest killer glanced up as Cato thrust a collector aside and leaped forward, teeth bared and sword thrust out in front of him.The point took the attacker just to one side of the neck, split his collar bone and drove deep into his chest, piercing his heart.With an explosive gasp the man slumped forward, almost wrenching the blade from Cato's grasp. Cato raised his boot and kicked the body back, yanked the blade free and crouched, looking for his next target. To one side there was a blur as Macro ran past and hacked his sword into the arm of the next sicarian, almost severing the limb. The man fell away, howling in agony as his nerveless fingers released his blade.The other men abruptly abandoned their attack on the tax collectors and turned to face the two Romans. Their leader, a short swarthy man with powerful shoulders, snapped out an order and the sicarians swiftly fa
'Seven of them.'
'Bad odds.' Macro was breathing heavily as he took up position with his back to Cato's. 'We shouldn't be here, lad.'
The crowd had fled back towards the gate, leaving a clear space round the two Romans and the killers. The paving slabs of the outer court were littered with discarded baskets and half-eaten snacks, hastily flung aside as people fled for their lives.
Cato laughed bitterly. 'Your idea, remember?'
'Next time, don't let me do the thinking.'
Before Cato could respond the leader of the sicarians snapped an order and his men closed in, moving quickly, blades held out ready to strike.There was no way out for the Romans and Cato crouched lower, limbs tensed as his eyes flickered from man to man, none more than a spear's length away from him and Macro.
'What now?' he whispered softly.
'Fuck knows.'
'Great. Just what I needed to hear.'
Cato sensed a movement to one side and turned just as one of the killers lunged forward, stabbing towards Macro's side.
'Watch it!'
But Macro was already moving, his sword a glittering blur as it swept round and knocked the blade from the man's hand. Even as it clattered to the ground another sicarian feinted, causing Cato to turn towards him, ready to parry. As he moved, another of the men jumped forward, knife point flickering out. Cato turned back just in time to meet the threat. He lowered his spare hand and snatched out his dagger, broad-bladed and unwieldy compared to the narrow-bladed weapons of the killers, but it felt good in his hand all the same. The leader shouted another order, and Cato heard the anger in the man's voice. He wanted this finished at once.
'Macro!' Cato shouted out. 'With me! Charge!'
He threw himself at the men backing onto the courtyard and his comrade followed him, bellowing at the top of his voice. The sudden reversal of roles startled the sicarians and they paused for a vital instant. Cato and Macro slashed at the men in front of them, causing them to jump aside, and then the Romans were through, ru