The Legion - Scarrow Simon (книги читать бесплатно без регистрации TXT) 📗

Macro stared at the dying man for a moment, his mind and heart filling with blind rage. The torch dropped from his hand and he snatched out his sword before he even realised that he had done so. With a cry of hatred and anger that tore at his throat, Macro raised the blade and smashed it down on the other man's head so brutally that skin, skull and brains exploded into one gory welter as the edge of his sword cleaved the man's skull from the top of his cranium right down to his jaw. Macro yanked his sword free and raised it to strike again, his lips curled back in a savage snarl, but the man was quite dead.

Macro's sword hung, poised over the body, blood dripping from its edge. He breathed in and out through his nose, his nostrils flaring. Slowly reason returned to him and he backed away from the body. He took one look round the cave in the hope of seeing something, some clue, that would reveal the presence of Ajax, but there was nothing. Macro turned back to the entrance to the chamber and called up to Hamedes.

'Lower me the rope. It's all over. We're done here.'

'And Ajax?'

'Ajax?' Macro shook his head. 'Not here. It's like he just vanished…'

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

'Will he live?' asked Cato.

The surgeon did not answer immediately but sat still on his stool beside the legate's bed and considered his patient. Outside, dawn was breaking and the bucinas were rousing the men in the camp at Karnak. Macro and Cato stood to one side of the surgeon, sand and dust griming their faces. They had returned from the far bank, with the two Roman casualties, during the early hours. Aurelius had been carried down to the river on a stretcher fashioned from two cavalry lances and some cloaks. As soon as the boat crossed to the landing platform, the legate was rushed up to the infirmary while the archer went to have his wounded arm cleaned and dressed.

It took an hour for the surgeon to set the legate's broken limbs as well as he could and then splint them. The head wound was a more complicated affair and the blood had to be carefully washed away before the wound could be cleaned and examined. Aurelius lay on his side, his body tightly packed with bolsters so that he did not move. His breathing was ragged and Cato could see that the back of his head was badly misshapen beneath a thin linen dressing through which the blood was slowly seeping.

'Live?' The surgeon looked up from his patient. 'I doubt it. He's lost a lot of blood, and some brain matter. It came away when I was removing the skull fragments. I've put in a brass plate and sewn the scalp up. However, I don't hold out much hope. Anyway, even if he does survive, his brain is damaged beyond repair. He would be condemned to spend the rest of his days as a simpleton. Death would be a mercy for him now.'

Cato nodded. 'I see. Then I'd be obliged if you would write up your conclusions and have them entered in the legion's log book.'

The surgeon stood up and faced Cato. 'Sir, I have a hospital full of wounded men following the actions of the previous two days. I have to devote my attention to them before I can deal with any reports.'

'I understand,' Cato replied gently. 'However, you must do as I say. The legate, though alive, is no longer capable of performing his duties. Therefore authority over the legion, and the rest of the army, passes to the next officer in the chain of command.'

'Namely you, sir.'

'Precisely. There must be no doubt that I have followed the correct protocols in assuming command. I cannot afford to have my authority challenged. For the sake of the men.'

'And to cover your back, in the event that the campaign does not end well for Rome, no doubt.'

'You can think what you like. But I need your statement entered into the records.' Cato spoke firmly. 'At once, if you don't mind.'

The surgeon hesitated. 'And if I do mind?'

'Then at once in any case. That is an order.'

'Yes, sir.'

Cato turned to Macro. 'Centurion, come. We need to talk.'

He turned and walked from the room set aside for the legate's treatment. Macro followed him, falling into step with Cato as they emerged from the hospital. They made their way across the temple complex towards the southern entrance and the headquarters beyond.

'That's a pretty bold step,' said Macro. 'I'm not sure the governor is going to be happy that you've assumed command of the army. It's all that stands between Prince Talmis and the lower Nile.'

'The governor is far from the centre of operations,' Cato responded. 'He is in no position to judge what course of action should be taken. In any case, the latest reports we have are that the Nubians are no more than a day's march from here. What would you have me do? Send a request to him asking for advice on how we should proceed, and then sit on my arse and wait for his response? By then we'll have been overrun and Prince Talmis would be well on his way to Memphis and the delta region. It'd be a bloody disaster, and you know it.'

'Of course I do.' Macro smiled. 'But then I'm not the one taking control of the army. If nothing else, it proves that you've got balls of solid iron, my friend.'

'Oh?' Cato turned to him. 'Don't think for a moment that I'm the only one who is sticking his neck out. I might be taking on the command of this army, but my first act is going to be to make you my camp prefect. So you'd better hope we come out of this covered in glory because the alternative won't smell nearly so sweet.'

'The thing that is puzzling me is how the hell Ajax could have got away from us,' Macro fumed as he settled on one of the comfortable stools in the legate's quarters. 'We had the right tomb. His men had been in there and he had left two of his injured behind. We didn't miss any side passages or openings. So he must have got out before we closed the trap.'

'Obviously.'

'But then how did he get out of the valley? He couldn't have climbed out, not without being seen, and he couldn't have got by us.'

Cato was silent for a moment. 'He didn't. We got past him.'

Macro frowned. 'What are you talking about?'

'Think it through, Macro. As soon as we knew which tomb he was in we made straight for it. Marched right into the valley and turned up that side track towards the tomb you searched. So what do you think happened?'

Macro thought a moment and took a sharp breath. 'It couldn't be that simple, surely?'

Cato shrugged. 'How else could he have escaped? He must have heard us march by. By the gods, I wouldn't be surprised if he had been bold enough to watch us from one of those tombs at the entrance to the valley. As soon as we passed out of sight, he and his men emerged, crept back down the track towards the Nile and made their escape.'

'He could be anywhere by now,' Macro reflected.

'That's right.'

Macro shook his head in wonder. 'Ajax has to be the most cunning bastard we've ever had to deal with, aside from that little shit Narcissus back in Rome. He must have known we'd try to work out his hiding place, then he let us see just enough to convince our scouts before switching his men to another tomb. Clever.'

'Yes, clever. Or perhaps there's another reason he got away from us.'

'You mean luck? He just happened to switch tombs at just the right moment? Unlikely.'

'Extremely unlikely.' Cato folded his hands together and leaned over the legate's table to concentrate his full attention on Macro. 'I'm talking about something else, Macro. I'm saying that I think Ajax was warned. He was told that we had sent scouts to find his hiding place. That's why he changed it and was able to trick us.'

'Warned? Who by?'

Cato did not reply. He was quiet for a moment as his tired mind put his thoughts together. At length he leaned back and addressed his friend in an even tone. 'Don't you think that Ajax has had a rather extraordinary run of good fortune since we've been pursuing him across Egypt?'