The Gladiator - Scarrow Simon (бесплатная регистрация книга txt) 📗

Atticus was gasping as he nodded. Cato clenched a little tighter for a moment to emphasise his threat before he released his grip and turned towards the chaotic scene behind the wagon. The vehicle was still moving forward, behind the gap cleared for it by the decurion and his men. But the desperate surge of the crowd towards the grain had split the column in two, forcing the following wagons and their escort to stop.

Cato turned to Macro and called out, ' Keep going! I'll take charge of the rest.'

As Macro nodded, Cato jumped down and drew his sword, bracing his feet to maintain his balance as he was jostled by the crowd. He forced his way through to the rear half of the column, standing stationary before the heaving mass of civilians scrabbling away at the grain.

'Auxiliaries! On me! Form a wedge!'

Cato took up position in the middle of the road, and the men of the Twelfth formed up at his back in a chevron. When he saw that the men were ready, Cato took a deep breath and called out, as loud as he could,'Shields front, present spears!'

There was a clatter as the shafts of their spears rapped against the shield rims, and an arrowhead of sharp iron points faced the crowd.

'Advance!' Cato bellowed and then called the time: ' One... two... one... two!'

The wedge tramped steadily forward and faces in the crowd began to look up in the direction of the approaching formation. Some snatched a last handful of grain and then turned to push their way to safety.

'They'll murder us!' a shrill voice cried out, and there were panicked shouts as the civilians scrambled out of the path of the oncoming soldiers. Cato called back over his shoulder,'Get the wagons moving! Don't stop for anything until we reach the acropolis.'

As the wheels rumbled into life behind him, Cato continued the advance, the boots of the auxiliaries grinding over the scattered grain. Before them an old man had slipped to the ground and was struggling to rise to his feet. One of the soldiers thrust his shield out, knocking the man on to his side. He landed heavily on his knee and then rolled into a ball, hugging the joint as he groaned in agony. The auxiliary lowered his spear tip and Cato thrust his sword out towards the man.

'No! Leave him be and step over him.'

The old man was left on the ground as the formation passed over him, and then looked up in terror as the ground trembled under the weight of the heavy wheels of the wagons. The horses stepped nimbly over the prostrate form, but the wheels were insensitive to his plight, and Cato glanced back at the sound of the thin cry of dread to see the old man wriggle to one side at the last moment. Cato continued to advance along the road as the other civilians hurried to get out of the way of the lethal spear points.

Just before the column reached the remains of the gate, a stone flew out of the crowd and clattered off the side of a cavalryman's shield. Moments later more followed, mixed with mud and turds, spattering the men around the wagons.

'Ignore them!' Cato shouted.' Keep moving!'

The rear of the column entered the town and continued along the main route, now cleared of rubble by the work gangs Macro had organised. Some members of the crowd followed them a short distance, still throwing missiles, before they gave up and backed off, shouting final insults before returning to their shelters. Macro was waiting for them on the ramp leading up to the acropolis. As Cato approached, brushing filth from his shoulder, Macro smiled ruefully.

'Like I said, we're always in the shit.'

'It wasn't pretty, but at least we got the wagons through,' said Cato.

'There's enough supplies for a few more days.'

'And then we have to go out and repeat the whole thing all over again.' Macro turned towards the first wagon and stabbed his finger at Atticus.' Nice work, mate. You almost got some of your people killed. Happy now?'

Atticus shook his head.' Not my fault.'

'Oh, but it was. If you hadn't played your fancy trick back there, there wouldn't have been any trouble.' Macro gestured to two of his men. 'Take him back to the prison. No rations for him for the next two days.'

'What?'

'The price you pay for the grain that you caused to be wasted.'

As Atticus was unchained from the wagon and led away, Cato surveyed the refugee camp and shook his head wearily. 'It's bad enough having to deal with the rebels, without making enemies of the civilians.'

'We're in a thankless job here, Cato old son,' Macro agreed, and waved the rest of the column forward up the slope to the gates of the acropolis. 'Even so, we have to do what we can to save these people.'

'Yes,' Cato replied, and was silent for a moment before he continued quietly, 'I hate to say it, but unless we get some help from outside, and get it soon, the province is going to collapse into complete chaos. It'll be a bloodbath and there's precious little we can do to prevent it.'

CHAPTER TWELVE

Do you think Portillus is up to the job?' asked Cato as they rode out of Matala the following morning. Behind the two centurions followed the cavalry escort. Julia sat alongside the driver on a small cart halfway along the column of mounted men.

'He knows what he has to do,' Macro replied. 'I gave him his orders last night. Keep the people fed. Keep the rebel slaves at bay.

Simple enough. Even Portillus can handle that. Anything else comes up, then he sends a message to Gortyna and asks for instructions. And at least he won't have to contend with Atticus.' Macro nodded to the rear of the column, where the Greek troublemaker was riding between two burly men.

'What do you intend to do with him?'

'He's tough and has courage, and provided he keeps his mouth shut I reckon we can put him on the strength of one of the cohorts at Gortyna.'

'What if he disagrees?'

'In that case, I'll offer him a choice. Atticus can wear the uniform, or he can wear chains.'

'Fair enough.' Cato nodded, then his thoughts returned to Matala.

The situation in the town was sound enough. Even though there was no question of defending the refugee camp, Portillus had sufficient men under arms to defend the acropolis, and there was room enough for the townspeople to take shelter from any danger. Cato frowned at himself for admitting the possibility that the rebel slaves might consider an attack on the town. Yet every eventuality had to be anticipated. Even that. 'I'm sure he will manage.'

As the column made its way warily along the road to Gortyna, the sun climbed into a clear blue sky. Once in a while, the riders glimpsed movement in the distance and saw ragged figures watching them pass by. There was no sign of any bands of rebels, and once Cato was confident that there was no immediate danger, he reined in and waited for Julia's cart to catch up before walking his horse alongside.

'I wondered when you would honour me with your presence.'

Julia smiled. She lowered her voice, but continued in the same light-hearted tone. 'Given the, ah, encounter last night, I feared you might have turned out to be the love-them-and-leave-them type. Like your friend Macro.'

Cato turned to meet her sultry gaze and could not help smiling at the thought of the previous evening. They had sat in a small neglected terrace garden that must have been the pride and joy of one of the previous commanders of the garrison, homesick for his villa back in Spain. Below them the ruins of the town were dark and shapeless where once they would have been illuminated by torches and the wan twinkle of lamps, accompanied by the sounds of revellers in the inns of the streets around the forum. Now there was silence, and even the refugee camp was quiet and still, until a small cluster of figures surrounding one of the camp fires slowly broke into a song, who se cheery melody drifted faintly across the ruins. Julia had leaned into his shoulder as Cato wrapped his cloak around them both.