The Eagle In the Sand

Over Ba

'What is it?' Ba

'Stand back!' Ba

Macro stood only a spear's length away, crouching low, sword point raised. The others were slightly further off, and spread out, so that Ba

'Don't move!'

Yusef raised his bound hands and started to claw at the hairy forearm across his throat.

'He can't breathe,' Cato said calmly. 'Ba

Ba

'That's better,' said Cato. 'Now, we have to talk… again.'

'We said all we had to say last time.'

'There's no escape now, Ba

'No!'

'What choice have you got?' Cato pleaded. 'We ca

'No. Symeon! Saddle my horse. You, Roman – the short one. Your mounts have to be nearby. Bring them here!'

'Fetch them yourself, fuckwit,' Macro growled.

Ba

'Next time, I'll take one of his eyes out. Now get the horses, Roman.'

Symeon looked on in horror before he turned to Macro. 'For pity's sake do as he says.'

'I am not going to let him escape,' Macro said firmly. 'Whatever he threatens to do to the boy. It ends here.'

'Macro, I beg you.' Symeon's voice was broken with anxiety. 'Not the boy. He's all that Miriam has.'

Macro did not reply, and did not take his eyes off Ba

'Macro,' Cato said softly. 'Sheathe your sword, slowly.'

Symeon and Cato did the same and turned towards the new arrivals. There was a moment of stillness in which Cato felt himself and his companions scrutinised by the silent riders. Ba

Cato whispered, 'Symeon, who are they?'

'Bedu.' Symeon raised a hand in greeting and spoke to the newcomers. A voice replied in kind and one of the riders edged his camel closer. At a series of tongue clicks and taps from his crop the camel's front legs folded, then the back legs, and the rider eased himself from the saddle. He lowered his veil and stared at them all with dark eyes before he started speaking to Symeon again. Then he turned and snapped out some orders to his men and they also began to dismount. One of the men who had been in the shadows held the reins of the three horses that had been left in the desert.

'What do they want?' Cato asked.

'Water. There's a spring in that fissure. He says it belongs to his tribe and that we are trespassing.'

Macro edged closer to the others. 'Fine, so what does he intend to do about it?'

The Bedu leader ordered some of his men to collect waterskins and they disappeared into the fissure. Then he turned back to Symeon and spoke again.

'He wants to know what we are doing here.'

Cato glanced at Macro. 'We've nothing to hide. Tell him the truth.'

There was another exchange before Symeon relayed the details. 'I told him Ba

'No?' Cato felt a chill in the back of his neck. 'Why not? What does he want from us?'

'He demands that we pay a price for trespassing on their land.'

'What price? We have nothing of value.'

Symeon smiled faintly. 'Except our lives.'

'They mean to kill us?'

Macro's hand tightened on his sword handle. 'Let them bloody try.'

'Not quite,' Symeon replied. 'He said that since we were enemies, we should finish our fight here, in the light of this fire. One of us will fight Ba

'I don't understand.' Macro frowned, then he glanced at Symeon. 'You're going to fight him?'

'Yes.'

'No. Let me. I'm trained for this. I'll have a better chance.'

'Prefect, I know how to fight, and this has been a long time coming. Besides, I told the Bedu leader that I would fight.'

Ba

'Release the boy,' Cato said.

'Why not?' Ba

'Yusef, are you all right?'

The boy nodded.

'I'll have you back with your people in a few days, I swear it.'

Ba

Symeon looked up at him. 'I will kill you Ba

'Sickness?'

'What else can it be when a man is so determined to continue a pointless fight that he no longer cares how many die as a result?'

'I do it for my people!' Ba

'That it's doomed.You ca

'I can and I will,' Ba

Symeon shook his head sadly and held Yusef closer. The leader of the Bedu approached them and spoke to Ba

'It's time,' Symeon said.

The Bedu leader pushed them gently towards the clearing, guiding Macro, Cato and Yusef to one side. Then he calmly pressed the two Romans down on to their knees and barked an order to his men. Four came over to stand behind them, and they felt hands on their shoulders and then the cold steel of daggers at their throats. The Bedu shouted to Symeon and the latter nodded, drawing his curved sword.A short distance from him Ba

For a moment the two men stood staring at each other, blades held out, ready to strike or parry. Then Ba

Symeon stepped forward and feinted, and feinted again, but Ba

'You're going to have to try harder than that…'

'You talk too much,' Symeon replied quietly, then thrust at his opponent's head, flicking his wrist at the last moment so the blade cut over Ba