Centurion

'Shut the gate!' Cato roared, the cry tearing at his dry throat. 'Macro, save yourself! Shut the gate!'

A blow against his shield made Cato stagger back and then, with an icy calmness, he resolved to kill as many of his enemies as he could before he was cut down.

'Bastards!' he hissed through clenched teeth.Then his fist tightened round his sword handle and he hurled himself back into the line, hacking at the faces in front of him. He filled his lungs and roared,'Second Illyrian! Second Illyrian!' The men around him took up the cry as they fought on. Pressed in from all sides the wedge became an oval, tightly clustered around their standard as the first of the fresh rebel soldiers reached them. The auxiliaries were more evenly matched now and began to fall in increasing numbers. The Romans fell back over the bodies of their comrades, closing ranks, breathing heavily, limbs burning with exhaustion as they blinked away splattered blood, grudgingly giving ground to the enemy.

Cato felt a blow and then a burning sensation in his shield arm and glimpsed the blade of a falcata pulling back from a thrust into his arm just below the chain mail. He gritted his teeth and gave vent to a deep groan of pain and rage, swinging slightly as he slashed his sword down on the rebel's blade, knocking it from his grasp.Then Cato reversed direction, slashing his blade up across the man's breast, ripping through his light tunic and the flesh beneath, leaving a vivid crimson streak in the wake of his blade.

There was a loud roar from the direction of the gate as Cato stepped back, his shield sagging as the last reserves of strength faded in his left arm. He glanced to the side and saw a dense column of legionaries spewing from the citadel gate. At their head was Macro, bellowing his war cry.The heavily armoured legionaries crashed through the loose throng of rebels closest to the gate and then carved a bloody path through those surrounding the small knot of the remaining auxiliaries. The ferocity of the attack momentarily stu

'On me! This way!' He lowered his sword and drove his shield into the thi

'So there you are! Go on, lad, get your men through to the gate. We'll take it from here.'

Cato nodded, then waved his men past as Macro's legionaries cleared space on either side and held the enemy back. The exhausted auxiliaries staggered through the gate and collapsed or bent double along the walls on either side. Cato was the last in, and stood and watched as the legionaries fell back, in good order, pressed hard by the bitterly denied rebels, now crying out with rage and frustration that the auxiliaries had escaped them. The legionaries withdrew under the arch and the clash of blades echoed sharply off the masonry.

'Get ready to close the gate!' Macro yelled over his shoulder and the party of legionaries standing behind the stout doors placed their shoulders against the solid timbers and braced their booted feet against the paving slabs. As Macro and the last of the legionaries passed into the citadel he shouted the order. 'Close the gate!'

With a grunt the legionaries heaved and the doors began to swing as the iron hinges groaned. The gap steadily narrowed until only Macro remained hacking at the closest rebels, snarling defiance and insults at them. Cato, fearing that his friend would be caught between the doors, sheathed his sword and rushed forward to grasp Macro's harness and haul him back with all his might. Sword arm flailing as he stumbled away from the enemy, Macro shouted, 'What the fuck? What are you doing?' Then the doors slammed into place with a reverberating thud and the legionaries thrust the locking bar across into its slot.

The shouts of the rebels were at once deadened and around Cato men stood chests heaving as they gasped for breath.At last he released his grip on his shield and it slipped to the ground with a loud clang. He loosened his grip on Macro's harness as Macro turned round and puffed out his cheeks.

They looked at each other for a moment and then laughed spontaneously at the sheer surprise and delight of still being alive. Macro thrust his blade into his scabbard and jerked his thumb towards the gate.

'So, that went as well as could be expected.'

Cato smiled for a moment, before he was aware of the survivors of Metellus' century around him, battered and bloodied with barely enough strength left to stay on their feet. 'It could have been worse,' he said quietly.

'Yes.' Macro's smile faded. 'Still, we made it. Life has become just a bit more difficult for that Prince Artaxes now that we're here.' His eyes moved to Cato's arm, streaked with blood that dripped from the ends of his fingers.'You'd better get that seen to. Before we report to the ambassador.'

'I will. Once the rest of my injured have been taken to the hospital.' Before he turned away to give the necessary orders, Cato paused and stared fixedly at Macro. 'Why did you do it?'

'Do what?'

'Come for us just then.'

Macro tried to brush the comment off. 'We're short-handed enough as it is. Last thing I can afford is to lose a century of good men, even if they are auxiliaries.That's why. Anyway, what are friends for? You'd have done the same for me.'

Cato nodded, but could not help smiling as he took a step back, grimacing at the odour clinging to his friend.'But if you don't go and clean that filth off I might just think twice about returning the favour.'

'Ha bloody ha. Now why don't you just piss off to the hospital before I add to your injuries?'

08 Centurion

CHAPTER NINETEEN

The hospital was filled with the wounded. Even the colo

'What happens to them in there?'

The surgeon glanced at him with a warning look as he replied, 'They are helped out of their pain.'

'Oh… I see.' Cato looked uneasily at the wounded man. A spear thrust had found a weak spot in his mail armour and burst through his stomach. The stench of his torn intestines and bowels wafted up and made Cato want to retch. The man's eyes were clamped shut and he moaned continually as he clutched both hands over the wound. Cato turned towards the surgeon and saw the fleeting look of pity and resignation in the man's face before the surgeon spoke softly.

'Trust me, sir, they feel little pain and it is over quickly.'

Cato did not feel reassured and rose up and stepped away from the wounded man feeling helpless and shamed. The surgeon beckoned to the orderlies assigned to stretcher duty and indicated the casualty. 'Special case,' he said evenly before leaning over the man and squeezing his shoulder gently. 'You'll be taken care of, my friend.You will rest and your pain will be gone.'