The Eagle In the Sand

'I'm a soldier, sir,' Cato replied stiffly. 'That's all.'

'That's what you say, but this document gives the lie to that.There's far more to you and Macro than meets the eye. But no matter.' Longinus tapped his fingers on the desk for a moment and then nodded. 'Very well, let's do as you suggest. But there's one thing that still puzzles me.'

'Sir?'

'I'll accept that the Parthians could have got some intelligence about Ba

Longinus looked at Macro. 'What's that?'

'The alarm signal, sir.' Macro turned to Cato.'We have to go.'

'Wait!' Longinus rose from behind the desk. 'I'm coming too. And you, Postumus.'

Outside, men were still tumbling from the barracks, clutching equipment as they hurried to take up their positions along the walls of the fort. They stood aside to let the officers trot past and Macro and the others reached the watchtower sweating and breathing heavily. On both sides the auxiliary troops were forming up in sections, sun glinting off their polished helmets as they fastened or adjusted the last items of equipment and then raised their shields and waited for orders. Several sections had been armed with compound bows and they were hurriedly stringing them, one end braced against a boot as the men strained to bend back the other end and attach the loop of the bowstring. The officers in the tower lined the parapet and stared out along the track to where, some distance off, a handful of mounted men were galloping towards the fort. Behind them raced a much larger force.

'Who the hell are they?' asked Longinus.

The two parties of horsemen were still too far away to be certain but as they approached the fort Cato strained his eyes and made out enough details to recognise them for what they were.

'It's one of our patrols.' He turned away, hurried across the tower and called down to the section of soldiers at the gate. 'Open up! Those are our men in front.'

Macro had also summed up the situation, and was issuing orders to the officers on the wall. 'Get some archers ready to cover the patrol! Shoot the moment those bastards behind our men are in range!'

As Macro and Cato returned to the Governor's side, Longinus turned to them and asked, 'So who are those men pursuing your patrol?'

Cato felt a chill feeling in the nape of his neck as he replied. 'I think they're Parthians, sir.'

07 The Eagle In the Sand

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

'Parthians?' Longinus stared back at him. 'Nonsense! How could they be Parthians? Have you ever seen one?'

'No, sir,' Cato admitted. 'I've read about them. Heard them described.'

Longinus sniffed with contempt and the officers turned back to watch the desperate chase across the desert towards the fort. As the horsemen drew nearer Centurion Postumus glanced at Cato before saying quietly, 'I'm afraid they are Parthians, sir.'

They were clearly visible now and all those in the gatehouse could plainly see the conical helmets and the saddle tassels flapping in the wind. Every so often one of the riders would take careful aim with a bow and loose an arrow after the fleeing survivors of the Roman patrol. But the range was long and the horses galloping at full stretch and only one of the arrows found its mark as the officers in the tower looked on. One of the horses suddenly reared, nearly throwing its rider, and Cato saw the dark shaft of the arrow protruding from a hind leg. As the horse stamped, the shaft caught on the other leg and was ripped out in a bright gush of blood. A major blood vessel must have been severed for the blood continued to spurt from the wound as the rider tried in vain to spur his mount on towards the fort. After several increasingly faltering steps the horse's legs buckled and it sank on to its chest. The rider quickly dismounted and turned to face his pursuers, crouching behind his shield as he drew his sword. They came on, and at the last moment flowed round the man and his dying horse. There was a brief flurry of arrow shafts and the auxiliary spun round under the impacts, and crumpled to the ground.

A deep groan rose up in the throats of the men on the wall and Macro cupped a hand to his mouth and called down to them. 'Archers! Don't just stand there! Hit 'em – soon as they're in bowshot!'

Those men who had already notched their first arrow braced their legs apart, leaned back and drew their bows, adjusting the angle to get the maximum range.Then they waited a moment, until the Roman patrol was close enough to the fort to ensure that the arrows would pass over them. The first man released his bowstring and the shaft shot high into the air, arcing up into the clear blue sky before it seemed to hang a moment and began to fall to earth. From where Cato stood it seemed that it would surely fall amongst the men of the patrol pounding towards the fort. He gritted his teeth as the arrow plummeted down. Only at the last moment was it clear that it had overshot the patrol, and it struck the ground just ahead of their pursuers with a small explosion of sand and dust.

'The range is good!' Macro shouted. 'Let 'em have it!'

More shafts flitted up into the sky and when they fell they were right on target. Cato saw one of the pursuers struck in the face and the man threw his hands up and tumbled off the back of his horse, disappearing under the hooves of the beasts galloping behind. A thin cry cut through the air and the Parthians instantly dispersed, swerving out to both sides to present a more difficult target to the Roman archers. But they had lost their prey. The gate was open and the surviving men from the patrol charged towards it, careering through the arch into the safety of the fort beyond.

'Close the gate!' Macro bellowed an instant later and the hinges grated and then the gate slammed into place with a thud that could be clearly felt in the tower above. At once the Parthians wheeled their mounts round, and then tore off back into the desert and out of range of the archers on the walls. Cato watched them go for a moment and then turned to the other officers.

'I think the situation's just become a lot more serious.'

'Parthians,' Longinus muttered. 'Bloody Parthians. Always the bloody Parthians.'

Macro gestured to Cato. 'Come on. We have to speak to the men from that patrol.'

They climbed down from the tower and joined the cluster of men surrounding the survivors of the patrol and their mounts. The horses' coats were stained with sweat and streaks of foam and their flanks heaved as they snorted. Macro thrust one of the men aside.

'Make way! Make way there!'

The soldiers quickly parted for the officers and a moment later they were standing in front of the decurion who had been leading the patrol.The decurion's arm was slashed and a medical orderly was holding the sides of the cut together while another tied a length of bandage round the injury. They paused at the sight of Macro, unable to stand to attention without interrupting their task. He nodded at them to continue before he turned to the decurion.

'Make your report.'

'Yes, sir.' He glanced at Cato. 'We watched those villages we were assigned to cover. I had five men on each. We saw nothing untoward the whole time. Then, when I gathered my men up yesterday afternoon to return to the fort, we saw a dust cloud, away to the north, coming out of the hills. Heading this way.'

'Hills?' Cato cut in. 'Which hills?'