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

While the others hurriedly dragged the dead away and then returned and stood around as their replacements, Cato fashioned a torch from some of the kindling lying to one side of the brazier. He plunged it into the fire, waited a moment until the slender twigs and brush were ablaze, then drew it out, stepped towards Macro and the others waiting out of sight in the darkness and held the torch high as he waved it steadily from side to side. Then he turned and thrust the torch into the brazier and stood with the others, waiting. It would take a while for Macro to march the cohort up to the edge of the camp. Until then Cato and his party would have to stand in for the men on watch. He gazed towards the eastern horizon, beyond the fort, and stared for a moment.There was definitely the faintest glimmer of light along the horizon that just demarcated the land from the sky. Cato turned to look for the first sign of the approaching cohort, but it was still too dark to pick them out. A little while after Cato had given the signal a man approached them from inside the camp. He gave a brief wave as he passed by and was singing softly to himself as he headed out into the darkness.

'Where the hell is he going?' one of Cato's men whispered.

Cato rounded on him angrily. 'Where do you think? He's having a shit.'

One of the other men chuckled. 'Then he's going to have the surprise of his fucking life.'

'Quiet!' Cato hissed.

The sound of the man's singing continued from the darkness a little longer, then abruptly stopped. An instant later, he came scurrying back towards the men gathered round the brazier, wrenching his robes back down over his legs. He jabbed an arm back towards the desert and began gabbling away in excitement. Cato said nothing, and when the man glanced at Cato's face his eyes widened in astonishment.

Cato had drawn his sword and now raised it quickly and punched the hilt into the man's nose. He reeled back, and Cato hit him again, a shattering blow to the temple, and he collapsed. 'Sorry about that,' Cato muttered.

Moments later the first of the Romans emerged from the darkness and closed on the perimeter of the enemy camp. Cato turned to the other men in his party. 'Time to drop the disguise.'

They stripped off the enemy's garments and turned towards the Judaean camp. Cato watched as the cohort approached. He could see the outline of Macro's helmet at the centre of the line as they came on at a measured pace to keep formation. Then they were visible in the pools of light cast by the nearest fires.

'Second Illyrian!' Macro's voice bellowed out of the night. 'Charge!'

At once the air was split with the sound of trumpets and a great roar tore out of the auxiliaries' throats as they rushed towards the camp.They raced through the nearest campfires thrusting their javelins at the men lying on the ground. Beyond them the rest of the camp began to stir to life, men struggling up from their sleep, blinking their eyes and then staring in surprise, and then terror, towards the Roman soldiers pouring out of the desert. Cato and his men ran in to join their comrades and stabbed their javelins at the Judaeans scrambling away from them. One of the auxiliaries paused to bend down and pull at a silver chain round the neck of a man he had just killed and Cato grabbed his arm and wrenched him up, thrusting him on towards the centre of the camp.

'Don't stop for anything! Keep going forward. Kill and move on!'

Away to his side, Cato heard the thrumming of hooves as Scrofa and his cavalry rode along the side of the camp for a short distance, and then turned in and charged the men who were arming themselves to meet the Roman infantry. On the other flank Postumus with the other two squadrons would be doing the same and Cato finally let go of the anxiety that had been coiled up in his breast.The plan had succeeded, the enemy had been taken by surprise. Now they must exploit the surprise as brutally as possible. He ran on, thrusting his javelin at any enemy still moving on the ground, or crossing his path as he angled towards the centre of the Roman line cutting its way across the enemy camp.True to Macro's orders the cornicens and bucinators continued to blow their instruments for all they were worth and the air was filled with the harsh blare of the signal to charge. The men too were adding to the din, shouting their war cries as they slaughtered the enemy without mercy.Already Cato was stepping over scores of bodies, dead and the injured, writhing and crying out, all illuminated by the glow of the campfires.

The Romans swept forward, a wave of death rushing across the camp, leaving bloodshed in their wake. Away to the east the faint light that Cato had discerned earlier was now a distinct pallid glow along the horizon and he felt an instant of panic grip his heart. As soon as the enemy realised how few men were attacking them they would surely turn on the Romans.Yet still the Judaeans and their Parthian allies fled before the enemy streaming across their camp. Cato caught up with Macro as the Roman line approached the cluster of tents at the heart of the site. The prefect was exultant and beamed with pleasure as he caught sight of Cato.

'We've beaten them! The bastards are buggering off in all directions.'

For a moment Cato shared in his friend's triumphant mood, and then he noticed that he could see almost across the entire extent of the camp. His heart sank as he faced Macro.

'It's getting light.'

'All the better to see them run!'

'It cuts both ways, sir. They'll soon see that they outnumber us. We'd better begin to withdraw.'

'Withdraw?' Macro shook his head, and gestured to the men who had run past them, still cutting their paths across the enemy camp, killing all in their way. 'We've beaten them, I tell you. We have to push on while their spirit's broken.'

'Of course, sir. As long as we're ready to give the order to retreat when the time comes.'

Macro nodded and turned to run on with his men, beckoning to Cato to follow him. By the time they had reached the far side of the camp, dawn was spreading across the sky, and even though the sun had not breached the horizon there was plenty of light to illuminate the land stretching out around the fort.The camp was littered with bodies, and Romans were hunting down those who had hidden at first but were now making a break for it, sprinting for the gaps in the Roman lines. Spread out across the desert were thousands of men and horses, some of which had been mounted by Bannus' Parthian allies. Already the enemy was slowing down, regrouping and starting to fight back against the scattered Romans. The cavalry squadrons of Scrofa and Postumus were also dispersed; many had ridden far too deeply amongst the enemy and were now in danger of being cut off.

Macro and Cato drew up at the edge of the camp, breathless as they surveyed the scene with growing anxiety.

'We've done all we can do, sir,' Cato panted. 'We've won our victory. Let's not lose it now. Give the order for the recall.'

Macro hesitated, torn between the desire to press the attack home, to keep killing the enemy and break their will, and the knowledge that his men were in danger now.

'All right then,' he conceded at last, and turned back towards the command party of standard bearers and trumpeters who had been following their prefect across the fort. He drew a breath and called out, 'Sound the recall!'

Moments later the signal blasted out and the auxiliaries began to draw up, abandoning their pursuit of the enemy.A few hotheads carried on heedlessly, but even they began to respond as the enemy stopped fleeing as soon as they saw the Romans begin to withdraw and form up by their standards. Already Cato noticed that their leaders were hurriedly rallying their men, and over by a group of horsemen the Parthians were banding together and would soon have a large enough force to take on their attackers. Cato could imagine the carnage they would wreak if they got the chance to bombard the Romans with arrows before they reached the safety of the walls of Fort Bushir.