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

'Good. You've done well. Your captain would have been proud of you.'

The mate bowed his head. 'I hope so. He was a good man, sir. Best captain I have sailed with.'

'A sad loss, ' Macro responded flatly. 'Now then, we're heading into the port, or what's left of it, to see what the situation is. Meanwhile, you're to remain here. Make sure the crew stays close to the ship and don't let anyone come aboard.'

'Why?'

'Just do as I say, all right? Hopefully some one has restored some kind of order to Matala. But if they haven't... then I'd rather you 31

made sure that you looked after your people, and the senator's daughter. Understand?'

'Yes, sir.' The mate nodded solemnly 'We have a few weapons in the stern locker. In case of pirates.'

'Let's hope you don't need to use them.' Cato smiled thinly. 'But use your judgement. If there's any sign of trouble, then get everyone back on board and pull up the boarding plank.'

'Yes, sir. Good luck.'

'Luck?' Macro patted the sword hanging at his side. 'I make my own luck.'

The two centurions and the senator set off along the shingle towards the port. Cato glanced back over his shoulder and saw Julia following their progress from the foredeck. She waved her hand hesitantly as she saw him looking back and he resisted the urge to wave back. He was thinking like a soldier again and was already closely watching the cliffs to their left for any sign of danger as they trudged along the top of the shingle. It was only a quarter of a mile to the port, and as they approached, the debris that had been carried on the backwash of the wave increased in intensity.

Then they came across the first bodies. Twisted figures in sodden clothing mingled with the remains of houses, boats and goods from the warehouses. The wave had struck its victims down indiscriminately and the three Romans stepped over the corpses of old and young alike. Cato felt a stab of pity as he saw a young woman on her side, an infant still strapped to her chest by a sling, both of them quite dead. He stopped a moment to stare down at the bodies.

Macro paused at his side. 'Poor devils. Didn't stand a chance.'

Cato nodded silently.

His companion looked up and surveyed the beach and the ruins of the port.' By tomorrow this place is going to start smelling a bit ripe. The bodies will have to be dealt with.'

'Dealt with?' Sempronius cocked an eyebrow.

'Yes, sir. It ain't the smell that worries me. It's the sickness that follows death on this scale. I've seen it at work after a siege. Small town in southern Germany, many years back, soon after I joined the Eagles. The defenders had just left the dead where they had fallen and the weather was hot. Baking hot. Anyway, by the time the survivors surrendered, the air inside was higher than a kite. The place was a den of pestilence.'

'What did you do?' asked Sempronius.

'Nothing we could do. The legate ordered the survivors to stay inside the walls and then had the gate closed up. Couldn't afford the sickness spreading to our troops. After a month there was only a handful of the townspeople still alive, and most of them were too sick to be worth anything as slaves. If they'd only disposed of the bodies properly, then many more would have lived.'

'I see. Let's hope that whoever is still in charge of the port knows what to do then.'

Macro clicked his tongue. 'It'll be a bastard of a job, sir.'

'Not our problem.' Sempronius shrugged.' Come on.'

They continued along the shoreline until they reached the remains of a watchtower that had guarded the entrance to the port.

The blocks of stone still stood, as high as a man, but above that the timber posts and platform had gone. So had the gate, and the walls had given way under the pressure of the sea water bursting over Matala. Beyond the barely discernible line of the wall, the port was a mass of rubble, timber and tiles, with no sense of the lines of the neat grid of streets that had once thronged with the inhabitants of the town. Now a handful of figures stumbled about the ruins, or sat and stared abjectly into the distance.

The three Romans paused at the edge of Matala, shocked by the scene in front of them. Macro took a deep breath.

'No easy way through that lot. Better to work around the edge and see what the situation is further inland.' He gestured up the slope. The cliffs on either side of the bay gave way to steep-sided hills that flanked the town, narrowing into a defile that bent round, out of sight, as it led away from the coast.

They set off again, a short distance from the shattered remains of the wall. The slopes had been stripped of much of the shrubs and trees that had grown there and now they were covered by the same dismal tide of debris and dead people and animals that the three men had witnessed on the beach. They passed the remains of a small cargo ship that had been carried up on the wave, before it struck a large boulder and smashed to pieces, leaving only the ribs and some timbers still caught around the rock. Cato could not help being awed by the sight. The power of the wave was as terrible and mighty as the wrath of any of the gods.

As they reached the defile, Cato and the others found that the easiest path was to cross the remains of the wall and pick their way warily across the ruins. A small gang of young men was busy pulling valuables out of a ruined house that must have belonged to one of the port's wealthier families. A handful of busts had been extracted and discarded, and the looters were busy removing silver plates and small chests of personal effects. They stopped their work and looked up warily as the three Romans passed by. Macro's hand went casually to his sword hilt.

'Ignore them, ' Cato muttered. 'We can't deal with that now.'

'Pity.' Macro sniffed, and let his hand drop back to his side.

They passed on by without exchanging a word. On the far side of the defile, the ground opened out into a wide plain, and here the damage caused by the wave gave way to the effects of the earthquake that had shaken the island to its roots. There was no debris washed up from the port. Instead most of the houses had just collapsed, on top of those inside. Others were partially damaged and a few seemed to have suffered no damage at all. It was the same for the larger buildings. Some of the temples were little more than piles of rubble surrounded by broken columns that now looked like bad teeth.

Others were intact, standing defiantly above the ruins. There were far more people visible here than down in the port. Hundreds were picking over the rubble, rescuing what they could from their homes, or liberating the possessions of the houses of the dead. Little clumps of humanity lay scattered across the slopes of the hill, and on the plain, a short distance from the city. Thin tendrils of smoke drifted up from small fires that some of the survivors had lit to warm themselves through the night.

On a large mass of rock stood the town's acropolis, relatively untouched by the disaster. The walls still stood, although one of the squat towers had collapsed down the small cliff on to the town below, flattening several houses. A squad of soldiers stood guard at the end of the ramp leading to the gates of the acropolis, and beyond the walls they could see that the main administration building was still standing.

'That looks like our best bet, ' said Cato. 'We should head up there.'

Sempronius nodded and led the way down the main thoroughfare that stretched through the town towards the acropolis. Once, the street had been fifteen paces across, but now the sides had been buried and only a thin path through the rubble remained. They reached the ramp and started up the incline towards the gates. The sentries immediately stirred and moved to bar their path. Macro eyed them coolly. The men carried the oval shields of auxiliary troops, but they looked nervous and out of condition. Their leader, an optio, stepped forward and raised his hand.