Centurion

Macro shook his head. 'That'd take too long.We have to get into the city before first light. Besides,' he turned towards the open landscape beyond the end of the spur, 'we'd have to go further out to be sure that they didn't see us. If they did, you can be sure that their first act would be to alert their friends in Palmyra. And even if they didn't spot us, we'd have to cross a lot of ground before we could resume our approach to the eastern gate. There are bound to be some shepherds, merchants or travellers out there on the plain. Any one of them could raise the alarm.'

'A fair point, Centurion. What do you suggest we do?'

Macro thought a moment. 'We'd better take the direct route. It would be swiftest and safest, provided we eliminate that patrol first.'

'Eliminate the patrol?' The surprise in the prince's tone was clear.

'Yes. It must be done quickly.We can catch and kill them all before they have a chance to send someone to raise the alarm. This is where your boys come in.'

'What are you talking about?'

'We send them out either side of the camp.When they're in position, they can mount up, ride in and finish the rebels off before they can get in their saddles. None of them can be allowed to escape. Be clear on that.'

'Don't worry, Roman. I know the stakes.' Balthus paused a moment before continuing, 'But what if some of them do escape and raise the alarm? What then?'

'Then we must decide whether we fall back to the hills and wait for another opportunity to enter the city, which, frankly, I doubt we'll get once the rebels are alerted to our presence close to Palmyra. In all likelihood, they'll make it a priority to hunt us down and destroy us. Or,' Macro watched the prince's face closely, 'we continue with the attack and get stuck into the rebels before they have much of a chance to react. Of course, if they manage to hold the gate then it will all have been for nothing. So, that's the choice, if any of that patrol escapes the net.What would you do?'

Macro had already made up his mind, but he was curious to take the measure of Balthus.Would the prince of Palmyra fight, or would he flee? Balthus responded without any hesitation.

'If any escape, then I say we advance on Palmyra as fast as we can.' Balthus tapped his chest. 'And since I am in command until we reach the citadel, that is what we will do.'

Macro smiled. 'A man after my own heart. Right, I expect you will want to give the orders to your men for the attack on that patrol.'

Balthus nodded and turned away, striding across the desert to the dark line of his men stretched out a short distance from the Roman column. Macro watched him for a moment and then returned to the head of his column and took the leading century, under Centurion Horatius, from his cohort forward, following the scout towards the enemy patrol, moving as stealthily as possible. To his left the Palmyran horsemen moved out, away from the spur and into the desert, to encircle the rebels. To Macro's right the crest of the spur gradually sloped down to the plain and ended in a jumble of boulders at its tip. A short distance beyond he saw the dark outline of the fronds of the palm trees against the starlit sky.

'Halt here,' Macro whispered to the centurion behind him, and crept forward as the order was quietly relayed down the line of dark figures. He caught up with the scout and tapped him on the shoulder. 'This is close enough.'

The scout nodded and lowered himself to the ground. A moment later Macro lay beside him and squinted into the darkness. The trees were clear enough, as were the horses tethered beneath them. Around them, huddled on the ground, were the rebels. As the scout had reported, most were lying down, but a handful sat together and Macro could just hear snatches of their conversation.They sounded good-humoured enough and it was clear that they weren't expecting any trouble. Two men squatted in the desert on either side of the camp, keeping watch.

Macro eased himself into a more comfortable position and whispered softly to the scout, 'Get back to Centurion Horatius and tell him that all's well.The enemy are still here and Balthus should take them by surprise. Tell him that I want his men ready to come forward the moment the attack begins.'

'Yes, sir.'

'Off you go.'

The scout nodded his head and then crept off through the rocks, leaving Macro to watch the enemy alone. The delay was frustrating but it should not set them back too long, he hoped. Otherwise Cato might light his beacon and have the garrison launch a costly and pointless diversionary attack. Assuming Cato had actually got through to the garrison, Macro reminded himself. He settled down to watch the rebel patrol, occasionally glancing out into the night for any sign of Balthus and his men. But there was nothing. After a while Macro grew fretful and hissed impatiently through his clenched teeth.

'Come on…come on. Haven't got all bloody night… Where the hell are you?'

As he heaped curses on to the head of the Palmyran prince, one of the rebels who was still awake, talking with his companions, eased himself off the ground and started walking slowly in Macro's direction.

'Oh, great,' Macro muttered. 'Fine time to have a crap.'

His irritation turned to anxiety as the figure continued towards Macro's position. If he continued on his course he would walk right up to Macro and trip over him. Macro flattened himself to the ground and reached a hand down to his sword handle. He could hear the man's footsteps now: a soft scraping shuffle over the stony ground. Someone called out to him from the camp and the man shouted back an angry response and his comrades laughed. Macro was lying between a large boulder and a stunted shrub and he peered through the skein of small spidery branches as the man approached. He cast about a moment before settling on a rock no more than ten feet from Macro, where he could squat out of sight of his comrades. Pulling up his robes he crouched down and stuck his backside out in Macro's direction.With a grunt he began his movements and Macro instantly wished that the man's diet had not left him with such loose bowels. A foul odour filled the air and Macro's nose wrinkled with disgust. At length the man finished and looked around for something to wipe his backside. He turned towards Macro and froze.

There was a pause as neither man moved, then the rebel rose up to his full height, still staring in Macro's direction. Hardly daring to breathe, Macro released his grip on his sword handle and groped for the nearest sizeable rock. His fingers grazed over one that would fit in his hand comfortably and closed round it as the rebel took a hesitant step towards him, and muttered an exclamation.

Macro burst from cover, throwing the rock as hard as he could, and then snatched out his sword as he hurled himself towards the rebel. The rock struck the man on the side of his jaw and glanced off, but the impact stu

'Oh no you don't,' Macro hissed, clamping his hand over the man's mouth and pressing down. With a last reserve of his failing strength the rebel writhed and bucked, trying to dislodge the Roman, but Macro fought back, working his blade furiously inside the man's chest. Then the rebel slumped, inert, his eyes staring blindly at the stars. Macro continued to hold him down a moment longer until he was quite certain that the man was dead, and then relaxed his grip, removing his hand from the slack jaw. He rolled away from the body, wrenching his blade free as he lay and caught his breath. It was a moment before he was aware of the smell and realised he was on the spot where the man had been squatting a moment earlier.