The Eagle In the Sand

Macro looked at Cato. 'How can you know all that?'

'Just thinking it through from the enemy's point of view, sir.' Cato nodded to himself. 'Seems to make sense. In which case I think we shouldn't take any chances. Ba

'Let him try.' Macro smiled as he thought of the ground that had been prepared around the fort. Any attempt by the enemy to reach the walls under cover of darkness was going to bring them right on to the obstacles that the cohort had prepared. He indulged himself for a moment, imagining the frustrating delays and injuries Ba

'I think that would be prudent, sir,' replied Cato. 'There's one other thing.'

'Yes?'

'That business about letting Postumus and Scrofa return to duty.'

'We need every man who can hold a sword.'

'Maybe, but I still don't trust either of them. Those bastards are bound to betray us the moment our backs are turned.'

'How can they betray us? They're in the same situation as the rest of us.They fight for their lives, or they get massacred by Ba

Cato was silent for a while, then sighed. 'I only hope you're right, sir.'

Macro bit back on his frustration. Cato should not be worrying about Scrofa and Postumus at a time when his mind needed to be concentrating on more important issues. He cleared his throat and turned towards his friend. 'Would you like me to have them arrested again?'

'What?' Cato frowned. 'No, I think not, sir. How do you imagine that would look to the men? The prefect doesn't know whether he's coming or going.That's what they'd say. So we're stuck with Scrofa and Postumus on the strength. I don't suppose they can cause too much trouble in the reserve.'

The two officers had been posted to command a cavalry squadron each. These were being held back from the walls, ready to reinforce any weak points in the defences. That had been Macro's decision.

Macro rubbed his hands contentedly. 'Even if Ba

'We just have to hold them off long enough to make his peasants feel hungry and homesick,' Macro concluded. 'Then, once his support has melted away, we'll get out there and hunt him down. Once Ba

'I hope you're right,' Cato replied. He gazed back towards the distant horsemen. Behind them the head of the enemy column crawled into view over the low ridge and slowly spread on to the barren plain in front of the fort.Thousands of men, and in amongst them, horses and pack animals.The dust that hung over the growing horde filtered the fading sunlight into a glowing red hue that pooled like blood against the paling sky, and Cato felt a cold thrill of fear grip his spine and make him shiver. Macro noticed the sudden tremor in his friend.

'You must be tired. Once the first watch is over, make sure you get some rest. That's an order. I'll need you in good shape over the coming days.'

'Yes, sir.'

Cato was grateful that his friend had misread the gesture, and bitterly reproached himself for letting his fear show in such an obvious ma

He forced himself to look upon the approaching enemy again. He tried to imagine how those men would be feeling. Most of them were simple peasants, provoked into this fight by the ceaseless hardship and injustice of their lives. That would embolden them for a while yet, but they lacked training, experience and the confidence of professional soldiers, like the auxiliaries of the Second Illyrian cohort.What were they thinking as they tramped across the dusty plain, and saw the thick walls of Fort Bushir, with its squat towers at each corner and over the gates? Wouldn't they feel a twinge of fear, for all their superiority in numbers? Cato certainly hoped so, for their sake as well as his own.There was no satisfaction, let alone any glory, to be had from killing peasants. It was a dirty, thankless and profitless task that would only add to the misery of the people of Judaea. If they were defeated, yet more fuel would be added to the simmering anger and hatred towards Rome that dwelt in their hearts.That was all that Rome would win if Cato, Macro and the other men managed to hold the enemy at bay. But if Ba

Cato smiled as he discovered that he felt sorry for the downtrodden peasants marching towards him.

Ba

Macro waited a while, to make quite sure that the enemy was settling for the night, before he ordered the units that were not on watch-keeping duty to stand down. The men tramped down from the wall and sombrely made their way back to their barracks. Some would find sleep easy enough. Others would continue in the agitated state of anticipation that Cato had observed as they stood and watched the approach of the enemy. At length Macro beckoned to Cato and they returned to the prefect's quarters for a meal with the other officers. Scrofa and Postumus sat as far from the cohort's commander as rank permitted and kept their eyes lowered, refusing to meet the gaze of either Macro or Cato. The mood was subdued, even though Macro had ordered his housekeeper to bring out the best jars of Scrofa's remaining stock of wine. Conscious that his men were looking to him, Macro made himself appear calm and unflustered by the presence of the enemy. He even attempted a few ribald jokes with some of the officers, and ended the evening with a toast to their inevitable victory. The officers responded with forced enthusiasm and then the di