The Eagle In the Sand - Scarrow Simon (читать книги без .txt) 📗

Macro shook his head in disbelief. He stared towards the caravan where the raiders had dealt with the escort and were now busy looting the leading camels.

'How long has this been going on?'

'Since I arrived here, sir.'

'Was Scrofa's predecessor in on it?'

'No,' Postumus admitted guardedly. 'He didn't approve, but then again, he just turned a blind eye to those of us who had joined the scheme. I think I would have talked him round, if he hadn't died in that ambush.'

'I bet.' Macro had heard enough. He drew his sword and tightened his hands on the reins.

'What are you doing, sir?' Postumus asked in alarm.

'I'm doing my duty,' Macro growled, before he took a sharp breath and bellowed his orders. 'Deploy into line!'

'No!' Postumus cried out. 'No! Stay as you are!'

Macro whipped round towards him. 'Shut your mouth! Not one more word from you.' He turned back to the auxiliaries. 'Deploy into line!'

'I'm in command here!' Postumus called out.

Macro let go of the reins and slammed his fist into Postumus's face. The centurion's head snapped back and he dropped from the saddle and hit the ground with a jarring crash. Macro shook his head. 'Not any more you're not, sunshine.' He turned to the auxiliaries and shouted, 'Well? What are you bloody waiting for? Deploy into line!'

Behind him, obedient to his order, the decurions were marshalling the two squadrons into line. As soon as they were ready, Macro raised his sword to get their attention and swept it down towards the caravan.

'Charge!'

The horses broke into a trot, quickly accelerating into a canter, straight at the oncoming owners of the caravan. They just had time to register a look of surprise and fright before they wheeled their beasts aside, out of the path of the charging Roman cavalry. Then they flashed out of Macro's field of vision, and he concentrated on the situation ahead as the auxiliaries whooped their war cries and brandished their spears as they closed on the raiders. Already, the first of them was breaking away from the caravan, hurriedly herding a cluster of laden camels ahead of him, back into the desert. As the auxiliaries neared the tail end of the caravan the rest realised the danger and mounted their camels and turned them away. They were in for a nasty shock, Macro thought, when the cavalry didn't give up the chase and charged right after them. He turned his head to call back to the men behind him. 'Keep going! Go for them! Don't stop!'

He wanted them to be quite sure of the order, given that Postumus must have got them used to drawing up as soon as they had chased the raiders away from previous caravans. The auxiliaries pounded round the end of the caravan and headed diagonally across the level ground towards the fleeing raiders. Greed had got the better of the bandits and they did not abandon their loot and the camels they had driven off. Macro smiled. Perhaps they still thought that the Roman cavalry, true to form, was merely making a show of chasing them off. They'd soon discover the folly of that notion.

Macro, at the head of the auxiliaries, was within bowshot of the nearest raiders when they began to understand their peril. One of the camel riders, leading a string of laden beasts, abruptly threw down the lead rope and whipped his camel into a loping run towards the distant dunes. At once his companions did the same, releasing the animals they had seized and desperately racing to escape the horsemen charging towards them. Macro ignored the discarded baggage and waved his sword towards the black-robed figures making for the open desert.

'Stay on them! Don't let them get away!'

The nearest of the raiders was just a short distance ahead now, and Macro drew his shield against his left side and held his cavalry sword out to the right in readiness. The raider, his head swathed in black turban and veil, glanced back and his eyes widened at the sight of the Roman officer bearing down on him.At once he reached forward and snatched out one of the short javelins from the sheath hanging from his saddle frame. As his camel loped on towards the desert the raider twisted round, took aim and hurled the javelin at Macro only a short distance behind.The shaft flew flat and true towards him. He jerked the reins to the left and leaned as far as he dared to the side and ducked his head.The javelin flicked past his right shoulder and the raider uttered an angry curse and snatched at another. For an instant Macro's horse staggered as it struggled to fight the inertia opposing the rapid change in direction and Macro hung on tightly, clamping his legs against the horse's side as he tried to shift his weight to the right. Then, with a powerful thrust from its front legs, the horse regained control and galloped after the raider once more.

The second javelin was thrown as Macro closed in, and it was deflected off his shield with a sharp clatter. There was no time for another javelin and the raider drew a curved blade and swung it at Macro's head. With a metallic ring, Macro parried the blow and then swept the point of his sword towards the man's side and thrust home, through the dark robes and into his chest. The raider gasped as the impact drove the air from his lungs; then, as the blade ripped free, he galloped on several more paces before the reins slipped from his fingers and he toppled from the saddle, hit the stony ground, rolled over a few times and was still. His camel lumbered on, riderless, into the desert.

Macro reined in and glanced round. Scattered ahead of him the rest of the raiders were drawing away. He turned as the first of the auxiliaries streamed past him on either side. None of the men were riding their mounts at full stretch and Macro felt his guts churn with anger and contempt. The bandits were going to escape. True, they would have little to show for their attack on the caravan, but they would survive to strike another day, thanks to Postumus and his ongoing scam.

'Don't just ponce around!' Macro bellowed after them. 'Get after them. Get stuck in, before I have your bollocks for breakfast!'

The nearest men made a show of bending low and urging their horses on, but there was little chance of catching up with the raiders now and Macro sheathed his sword and sat erect as he surveyed the scene. Beyond the auxiliaries, the raiders were rapidly disappearing over the nearest dunes. Elsewhere, the herders were returning to the caravan and restoring order to the nervous animals, who were milling about where they had been left. Some of the merchants were retrieving the loot that been spilled on the sand and repacking it into the baskets hanging over the backs of the pack camels.

A pounding of hooves drew Macro's attention and he saw Centurion Postumus approaching him across the desert. At the last moment, Postumus reined in, his horse kicking up a cloud of dust and loose stones, so that Macro's horse recoiled with a nervous whinny.

'What the hell d'you think you're doing?' Postumus screamed at him, thrusting an arm towards the dead raider.

Macro glanced at the body and shrugged. 'I'm doing your job, Postumus. At least, I'm doing the job you should be doing.'

Postumus clenched his teeth and stabbed a finger at Macro. 'You've fucked it up, Macro! It's taken months to set this up. It was going like a dream… Now?' Postumus looked at the body again and shook his head. 'I don't know what's going to happen. There'll be reprisals.' He turned back to Macro with a bitter grin. 'You're going to pay for this.'

'I don't think so. Not when word gets back to Rome about the little deal you had with that lot.' He gestured towards the last of the raiders, already far off, half hidden by the dust kicked up by their flight.

'What makes you think you'll live to expose us?'

Macro laughed. 'Are you threatening me?' His hand dropped to the hilt of his sword as he watched Postumus closely. 'Go on then, if you've got the balls to do it. Draw your sword.'