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

'Sir, you'd better get that seen to.'

Macro shook his head. 'No time for that. We're for it now.They're bringing up a ram. It'll be here any moment.'

They took a quick glance over the breastwork and saw that the slingers were already moving aside as the men carrying the ram struggled up the rubble slope and heaved their burden over the crest and down into the fort. Behind them massed the Judaeans, clutching an assortment of shields and weapons, as well as several ladders, all washed in a pale yellow glow from the fires burning inside the fort. On either side the slingers continued to rain their missiles down on the breastwork. Once the men carrying the ram had cleared the rubble they made straight for the middle of the inner wall where Cato and Macro had taken their position.

'All right!' Macro shouted at the men on either side. 'When I give the command, on your feet. Save your javelins for the men carrying the ram.'

He held his hand out for a javelin, and turned back to Cato as his friend hefted the shaft of his own weapon. 'Ready?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Second Illyrian! Up and at 'em!' Macro rose behind his shield, Cato at his side, and then the rest of the men. Below them, the men at the ram glanced up, but did not hesitate as they lumbered on. Macro raised his arm, balanced the javelin and took aim with the iron head, before he hurled it with all his strength.The weapon flew towards the man at the head of the party carrying the ram, but he saw it and ducked to one side so that the javelin missed him and tore through the forearm of the man behind. Macro swore and reached back for another javelin. Even as he had missed, many of his men had not, and several of the attackers went down, pierced by the lethal iron heads of the weapons. As soon as they fell, replacements rushed up from the dense mass behind and took their place at the ropes that had been fastened round the timber shaft. The reappearance of the Romans above the breastwork provoked the slingers to renew their furious bombardment and there was a sharp cry from the auxiliary standing next to Cato as he was struck in the face with a dull crack. The auxiliary dropped his javelin and let his shield drop for a moment and was immediately hit in the shoulder, the impact driving him round as his knees buckled. Cato could not spare him any help as he hurled his second javelin and turned back to the men behind the wall for another without waiting to see if his throw had been true.

'Get that man to the medics!'

Hands grasped the injured auxiliary and hauled him off the fighting platform. An instant later another man had taken his place, javelin raised and ready to throw. On the other side of the wall, the ground was strewn with wounded and dead, but the survivors had reached the wall and, as someone shouted the time, they swung the ram back and then forward with all their might. Cato felt the platform quake beneath his feet and a section of the breastwork in front of him fell away.

'Get them!' he shouted to his men desperately. 'Get them!'

The auxiliaries responded to the order with a frenzy of hurled javelins that struck down so many men that the enemy could no longer hold the ram and it sank to the ground, until more Judaeans rushed forward, snatched up the rope holds and swung the ram back, and forwards into the wall. This time the impact nearly knocked Cato and Macro off their feet and another large chunk of the makeshift wall collapsed. Macro grabbed Cato's arm and pulled him down behind the breastwork.

'The wall's going to give way soon. Get down and get some men ready to hold the breach. You have to keep them out. Go!'

Cato jumped down from the fighting platform. Glancing back as he felt another blow from the ram he saw loose chunks of stone leap from the wall. He turned back to the reserve force, and became aware that a line of casualties was being treated by medical orderlies by the side of the nearest barracks block. He turned to the closest optio. 'What are the wounded doing here? Get them to the hospital.'

The optio shook his head.'Can't, sir.The fires have cut us off from the centre of the fort.They have to be treated here.'

Cato looked beyond the optio, down the street between the barracks blocks. At the end of the buildings flames and smoke barred his view. Just then a couple of men from Centurion Parmenion's fire-fighting party emerged from the smoke and bent over coughing. They carried smouldering mats in their hands and a moment later they went back to try to beat the flames out. Cato turned back to the optio.

'Find Centurion Parmenion. Tell him he has to clear a way through. I don't care how he does it, but it must be done, or we're going to be caught between the fire and the enemy.' Cato thrust the optio on his way and turned to the other auxiliaries standing to behind the wall.

'Reserve units! On me!'

The men hurried over and formed up in a solid column, shields to the front and javelins now grounded and angled forward, ready to serve as spears. In front of them the wall shook and showered chunks of rock on to the ground under another blow from the ram. On the fighting platform Macro was desperately ushering the men away from the collapsed breastwork so that they would not be caught in the falling masonry when the ram breached the wall.The next blow came, and another, and then after a slight delay the wall fell outwards in a rush of debris and a swirling cloud of dust. Cato clenched his hand tightly round the shaft of his javelin and raised it towards the gap in the inner wall that was wide enough for two men to get through at a time.

'Forward!' he shouted, and the reserve tramped towards the gap, keeping pace as their shields rose and the tips of their javelins were lowered towards the enemy.The first of the Judaeans burst through the red-tinted cloud of dust, his battle cry dying on his lips as he fell straight on to the points of two of the auxiliaries to the side of Cato. They ripped their weapons from the man's guts and closed on the gap in the wall, just as more men scrambled through it, screaming and waving their swords in the glow of the flames licking up into the night sky above the fort. For an instant there was a gap of a spear's length between the two sides and then the Judaeans were pressed up against the broad oval Roman shields, hammering away at them with the pommels of their swords, or slashing at any part of the defenders that came within reach of their blades. The first rank of auxiliaries could not wield their javelins in the crush and thrust them back to the men behind before drawing their swords and hacking and thrusting at the enemy before them. Those in the second and third ranks held their javelins overhead and stabbed at the faces in the front rank of the enemy horde trying to force its way through the breach.

Above the rasp and scrape of weapons and the grunts and shouts of the men packed around him, Cato heard Macro's voice shout a warning to the men still on the wall.

'Ladders! They're bringing ladders up! Draw swords!'

Cato's awareness of the fight raging on either side of the breach suddenly faded as he felt the point of a blade slice into his calf. He groaned with pain and rage through gritted teeth and glanced down. A small, lithe boy had dropped low and squeezed under his shield, even though he risked being trampled to death. He had a short curved dagger in his hand and drew it back to strike again at Cato's leg.Without a thought, Cato slammed the bottom rim of his shield into the back of the boy's neck. The child spasmed, dropped the knife and slumped to the ground. Before Cato's mind could even register that he had felled a child, a horribly scarred face appeared at the top of his shield, and a point of a levelled sword flickered forwards. Cato just had time to turn his head aside and the sword struck his cheek guard and was deflected over his shoulder. For an instant Cato was dazed by the blow, but by the time the white splashes had faded from his vision one of his men had sliced almost through the man's arm and he fell away with a scream. Cato shook his head to try to clear the dizziness and pushed forward again, ramming his shield into the tightly packed press of bodies trying to force their way into the fort. There was no longer any room for any general exchange of blows as the men from both sides were crushed against each other by the pressure of the rear ranks and the struggle became simply a question of strength. Cato leaned his shoulder into the back of his shield and braced his legs and shoved against the enemy.