The Gladiator

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

The tender grounded on the small strip of sand with a slight jar that sent Atticus sprawling on to his knees.

'Shit,' he muttered as he struggled up and then climbed over the side with the others.

'Better all speak in Greek from now on,' said Cato. 'If we're going to be taken for rebels.'

They had helped themselves to some tunics from the rebel bodies on the grain ships and fastened their sword belts over the top. If anyone took the time to look hard at them, the Roman swords might look suspicious, but they could pass them off as captured kit if stopped. From the sounds of confusion and panic coming from the camp, Cato hoped that the rebels would be too busy trying to save themselves to be worried about Roman intruders in their midst.

He indicated a rock a short distance away. 'We'll put the boat behind that.'

Once he was satisfied that it was hidden from view and would still be there if they needed to make a quick escape, he led the others up towards the large tents in that part of the camp he had seen Ajax and his escort make for the previous day. The slope was rocky and dotted with shrubs and clumps of gorse that snagged their tunics as they crept forwards. At length the gradient eased and they could hear voices more clearly. There were hurried exchanges of shouts, but none of the panic and pandemonium that was evident in the main part of the camp. The ground here was sparsely covered where the rebels had ripped up the dry plants and bushes for kindling. There was a sudden rustling to their right, and Cato waved his men down and dropped to the ground himself. Ahead of them a small group of figures ran by: a man, woman and two children, all of them clutching bundles. The man looked nervously towards the top of the slope and urged the others on. They passed a short distance in front of the Romans without seeing them, and ran off into the darkness. As the sound of their footsteps faded, Cato let his breath out.

'Come on,' he whispered.

They continued, and now the glow of camp fires illuminated the crest above them. Keeping low and glancing from side to side, they proceeded warily. The ridges of tents were visible over the crest, and Cato made towards a small outcrop of boulders that would conceal them as they took in the situation. There turned out to be a natural gap between the boulders wide enough for two men to lie down, and Cato ordered the legionaries to stay back while he crawled forward with Atticus. The rocks stood on a slight rise and the position gave them a good view over the flat area of ground that the enemy commander had chosen for his tent and those of his bodyguards. The largest tents were surrounded by an open area, then smaller shelters, and off to one side a small shack and pens that seemed to have been abandoned many years ago. A number of camp fires were burning down, having been abandoned in the rush to counter the Roman attack. As Cato surveyed the scene, he could see several figures close to the largest tent; some were armed with spears, and an old woman squatted to one side hurriedly loading possessions on to a blanket that lay open on the ground. Other rebels were visible flitting through the shelters as they ran from the Roman forces advancing round the bay. Cato could not help won de ring what these fugitives might hope to achieve. When they reached the end of the peninsula they would be trapped.

'What now?' muttered Atticus. 'Where do you think Macro and the senator's daughter are being kept?'

'It has to be somewhere close to his tent.' Cato recalled the savage glee in the gladiator's eyes as he contemplated the suffering of Macro and Julia. 'He'd want them nearby, near enough to sense their torment. Some where he could keep an eye on them. In one of the tents perhaps, or in those pens. We have to get closer.'

Atticus nodded. 'Best circle round then, sir. Come up behind the pens from where there's not so much light from the fires.'

Cato examined the ground.' Yes. You're right. Let's go.'

They shuffled back, rejoined Vulso and Musa, and then the four of them moved through the scrub on the fringes of the tents, in a long arc round to the far side of the peninsula. There were many more fugitives streaming up the hill from the direction of the main camp, and by some unspoken mutual consent the small party of Romans and the fleeing rebels warily shifted some distance round each other in the shadows, then hurried on. At last Cato saw that the pens were in line with the largest tents, and gestured to the men following him.

'Let's get in closer.'

They padded through the outermost shelters: makeshift tents spread over crudely cut frames, nearly all empty after the initial rush down towards the battle being fought on the other side of the bay.

Some were not empty, however, and Cato felt his flesh freeze at the sound of a shrill shriek, before he realised it was an infant crying. A woman murmured gently and the crying quickly died away. There were others amongst the shelters, fleeing from the camp, who had taken the chance to pause long enough to ransack some of the empty tents they were passing through. Cato nearly tripped over one of them, a man bent down in the shadows as he dragged a large silver bowl through some tent flaps. Cato stopped in his tracks. The man jumped to his feet, where the glow from the fires lit up his features.

A wrinkled face, half hidden by shaggy hair, and an unkempt beard.

He snarled, revealing a handful of jagged teeth.

'Look out, sir!' Atticus pushed Cato aside as the rebel lashed out with a knife. Cato heard it swish close to his ear, and then there was a dull crunch as Atticus floored the man with a punch. As the rebel collapsed unconscious to the ground, the optio snatched the knife from his fingers and drew it back, ready to cut the man's throat.

'No.' Cato held his arm. 'Leave him. Let's go on.'

The pens were only a short distance ahead of them, and Cato weaved cautiously through the remaining shelters until they reached the rear of the structures. Beyond them the ground was open all the way to where the group of men were gathered in front of what Cato assumed to be the gladiator's personal tent. They were watching the destruction of their comrades down in the camp, and talking in anxious tones, though Cato could not catch the sense of what they were saying. The walls of the pens stood as tall as his shoulders, and he knew that if he stood up to peer over the walls to look for Macro and Julia he was almost sure to be seen.

He rose up as high as he dared and called out softly, 'Julia?…

Macro?'

There was no reply. He called again, a little louder this time. Still there was no reply.

'They're not in there,' Atticus muttered.

'No.'

'So what do we do?'

'Keep looking,' Cato said firmly, and edged along behind the pens until he reached a gap where he could crawl forwards and look round from the safety of the shadows. He saw it almost at once — a cage a short distance from the largest tent and away from the other shelters. It was on the highest point of the camp, exposed to the elements. Cato edged back as yet more rebels fled past. The Romans flattened themselves to the ground and lay still. Once the rebels had gone, Cato turned to the others.

'I know where they are: Macro and Julia.' He told Atticus and the others about the cage.

'Did you actually see them?' the optio asked.

Cato shook his head. 'Too dark. But where else could they be?'

'I'm beginning to think they could be anywhere. Pretty soon this place is going to be overrun with slaves fleeing up from the main camp. We'd best find the hostages as soon as we can, sir.'

'Then let's move.' Cato gestured with his hand and rose into a crouch, making his way back a short distance from the pens and in amongst a cluster of the shelters. He paused to let the others catch up, then the small party continued through the last of the huts and along the slope, out of sight of the tents. To their right the sea was a dark mass, and the sound of the waves breaking on the rocks below came clearly to their ears. When Cato judged that they were parallel to the cage, he led them back up the slope, cautiously picking his way through the stunted bushes and rocks. Some one shouted a warning, then there were more raised voices, and Cato paused for a moment until he realised they could not have been seen. A few more steps and then the ground evened out and they could see the cage, twenty paces away. Beyond that there was a patch of open ground and the side of the tent with the men forming a screen before it as they fended off a stream of rebels rushing past. For the moment none of them were watching the cage. Cato squinted and saw the dark shape of a bulky figure within, slumped against the bars. Hope made his heart beat faster, then he felt a chill of fear as he realised that there was only one person in the cage, unquestionably male.

'Macro?' he called out.

The figure stirred, then replied gruffly, 'Who's that?'

Cato released a sharp breath of relief. 'It's Cato.'

'Cato?' Macro's voice was strained. 'By all the gods, let it be true.'

'Just a moment.' Cato turned to Atticus. 'You come with me.

Musa, Vulso, you keep watch. Let me know if anyone comes.'

Cato kept low as he scuttled across the open ground, closely followed by Atticus. They kept a watchful eye on the rebels, but no one looked in their direction. As he reached the cage, Cato's nose wrinkled at the stench of human waste. He dropped down beside the bars, opposite Macro.

'It really is you.' Macro's voice rasped.' Thought I was going mad.

Get me out of here.'

'Where's Julia?'

'In the tent. Ajax sent for her. Had her cleaned up first.'

Cato felt the blood go cold in his veins. 'Did he…?'

'How the hell do I know?' Macro shook his head. 'Get me out of here and we'll go and rescue her.'

Cato examined the do or to the cage.' Damn, it's locked.'

'Of course it's fucking locked,' Macro hissed.' Why else would I still be in here?'

Atticus chuckled.' Nice change to see you locked up.'

'Who's that with you?' asked Macro.' Not that twat Atticus?'

'The same.' Atticus grinned.

'Bloody great,' Macro muttered. He fixed his gaze on his friend.

'Cato… thanks.'

'You didn't think I'd leave you to die?'

Macro was silent for a moment before he replied. 'There were times when I gave up hope.'

'Thanks for the vote of confidence.'

Macro chuckled drily.

Cato grasped the bars of the cage door and gritted his teeth as he strained to prise them open. He gave up with a bitter grunt. 'We need the key. Who has it?'

'One of the guards, over there.' Macro pointed him out. 'If I can get him to come over here, can you two handle him?'

'We'll have to.' Cato crouched down behind Macro, and indicated to Atticus to lie flat.

Macro grasped the bars of the cage, drew a deep breath and bellowed, 'Guard! Guard! Over here!' He paused a moment and repeated his cry, shaking the bars more violently. One of the men by the tent turned in his direction and then spoke to the rebel who had been tasked with watching Macro and Julia since their capture. He picked up his spear and wearily approached the cage.

'Keep it down, Roman!'

'Fuck you!' Macro shouted back and shook the bars again. 'Fuck that old hag of a mother of yours!'

The guard paused and then growled with anger as he ran towards the cage and lowered the tip of his spear.

'Shit…' Macro just had time to mutter, before the spearhead rattled through the bars, and he dodged to one side to avoid it.

Instantly he snatched at the spear shaft and thrust it to one side. The other end swivelled sharply, and caught the guard off balance so he tumbled over and crashed into the side of the cage. Macro released the shaft and thrust his arms through the cage, grasping the guard round the neck and hauling him up against the bars as he flailed at Macro's brawny forearms.

'Get him!' Macro grunted. 'Before he works loose.'

Atticus was up first, scrambling round the end of the cage and dropping heavily on the guard, driving the breath from his body as Macro tightened his grip, choking the rebel. He struggled violently for a moment and then went limp. There was a shout from the direction of Ajax's tent, and Cato saw that the other rebels were looking across the open ground. As soon as they realised what was happening, they snatched up their weapons and began to sprint towards the cage.

'Get the key!' Macro shouted at Atticus.

Cato glanced back towards Musa and Vulso and beckoned frantically ' On me!'

Atticus snatched away the thong around the guard's neck, grasped the key and fitted it to the lock as the rebels ran towards them. As soon as the lock clicked, Macro burst the do or open and grabbed the guard's spear. Rising up into a crouch, he swung the point round toward the rebels as Atticus and Cato drew their swords. With an animal roar Macro charged forward.

'Bloody hell, there he goes again,' Cato muttered under his breath as he hurried after his friend, moving to the right as Atticus went to the left. The fury on Macro's face must have been evident even in the wan glow of the fire burning in front of Ajax's tent, for the rebels hesitated and regarded him fearfully as they readied their weapons.

There were seven of them, eight counting the old woman, who had picked up a hatchet and screamed in rage as she hurried after the others.

Cato glanced up and saw the rebels lowering their spears as the gap between the two groups of men closed. The rebels crouched, feet apart and balanced, spears held ready as Macro and his two companions charged in, Musa and Vulso sprinting hard to catch up.

'Five men against seven spears and a mad woman with an axe,'

Atticus laughed.' Not good odds!'

There was a sharp rap as Macro parried the thrust of the first man he encountered. Still running, he lowered his shoulder and slammed into the rebel, knocking the other man on to his back. Macro ran on, skewering the next man ahead of him before he stopped, wrenched the spear shaft free, presenting the point to the three men before him in turn.' Come on!' he shouted. 'Who's up for it?'

Cato kept his eyes on the man who had singled him out and who now came on, spear lowered. He thrust at Cato's face but the point was easily deflected with a clatter. Cato lunged forward, forcing the man back, and kept with him, ham me ring at the shaft of the spear, knowing that it would numb the rebel's fingers. One more blow and the spear fell. The man turned and sprinted away. Cato let him go and turned to see Atticus locked in a duel with another man, more skilled with his spear than Cato's opponent had been. Musa was down, piked through the thigh and desperately warding off further blows from another rebel as blood gushed from the wound. Vulso charged into his man, knocking aside the spear, then smashing his fist into the rebel's face a moment before his right arm swung, driving his sword through the man's stomach and up into his chest, carrying him off his feet. The rebel's knees collapsed and he sagged back on to the ground, a great tear across his front through which bloodied intestines bulged.

'Musa!' the legionary called as he turned to help his comrade. It was too late: the old woman had crept up behind the down ed soldier and now smashed her axe down into the top of his skull. Musa's head snapped forward, eyes blinking. Then his body jerked furiously as he toppled over. The woman yanked her axe back with a shriek of triumph and turned towards Macro, snarling as she glanced at the body of her son stretched out by the cage. Cato started forward, but the man who had been fighting Musa blocked his path. Macro was in danger, so there was no time to stick to his training and take the man down by swordsmanship. Cato filled his lungs and let out a roar as he hurled himself forward. The spear point came up and the man braced his feet for the impact. At the last instant Cato went down low, rolled over and slashed at the rebel's leading leg as he came up.

The blade shattered the bone and the man screamed as he collapsed.

There was no time to finish him off as Cato ran on round the cage to catch up with the old woman. But she had a head start and threw herself towards Macro, the axe raised above her head.

'Macro!' Cato cried out. 'Behind you!'

Macro swung round, gritting his teeth, as he threw up the shaft of the spear to protect his head. The axe head splintered the spear shaft, but did not cut all the way through. Macro released the ruined weapon and clamped his fingers round her skinny wrist as the axe came down again. He managed to deflect the blow so that it hissed past his shoulder and into the dirt. She released her grip and clawed at his face with her spare hand as she swore and spat at him.

'That's enough!' Macro caught her by the hair and held her at arm's length. She spat and scratched at his hands as she tried to kick him. Macro took a sharp breath. 'I have had quite enough of you.' He punched her with his spare hand, and she collapsed on to the ground.

He snatched up the axe and stood over her.

'Macro!' Cato caught his arm.

Macro stared at the old woman with hatred before his gaze turned to Cato. 'She had it coming, believe me.'

Standing up, Cato saw that Vulso had finished off his opponent, and there was a last clatter and thud as Atticus cut down his man. The surviving rebels threw down their weapons and ran off into the night. The Roman soldiers stood breathing heavily for a moment before Vulso knelt down at Musa's side. His eyes gazed blankly at the starry heavens.

'He's dead,' said Vulso.

Cato turned to Macro. 'I'm going for Julia.'

'Careful, lad, there may be more of them in the tent. I'll come with you.'

There was a sudden pounding of hooves, and Cato and the others froze.

'That'll be Ajax.' Macro turned to Cato. 'We'd better get to cover.'

'Not without Julia.'

'Don't be a bloody fool! They'll be on us before we could get her out.' Macro grabbed his arm and thrust him away from the tent, back towards the shelter of the pens.' Go!'

The rumble of hooves was much louder, and then Cato could feel the tremor through the ground. He stared desperately at the tent for an instant, then turned and ran back with Macro and the others. A moment later Ajax and his bodyguards rode up through the camp and slewed to a halt in front of the tent. Ajax swung himself down from the back of his horse and barked an order.

'Stay in your saddles!'

He strode across to his tent and tore the flaps aside as he entered.

From his position nearly fifty paces away, Cato watched intently, fearing for Julia's life, and at the same time hoping that the bodies near the cage would not be noticed in the darkness. He tensed, as if ready to spring forward, but Macro grabbed his arm.

'Keep still, lad. Or we're all dead.'

Cato turned and glared at his friend, then nodded slowly as reason returned. The strain in his muscles eased as he sank towards the ground. There was silence from the tent for a moment, and then the flaps opened again and Ajax emerged holding a small chest in one hand, while the other grasped Julia by the wrist. Cato stopped breathing as he saw her, beautiful as the dawn even at this distance.

Ajax pulled hard, spinning Julia round so that she lost her balance and tumbled at the feet of the men standing in front of the tent.

'Get her on a horse. Kharim!'

'Yes, General.'

'You take charge of her. Guard her with your life, understand?'

Kharim reached down and with the help of the men on the ground pulled her up and across his thighs. Ajax climbed back on to his horse, clasping the chest to his side as he took the reins in his spare hand. 'Take her to the boats!'

As the bodyguards urged their mounts forward, along the track that led towards the tip of the peninsula, the gladiator glanced towards the cage, almost invisible in the dark, and pointed to two of his men.

'Kill the Roman, then get out of here.'

Then he wheeled his mount round and spurred it into a gallop along the track to catch up with the rest of his bodyguards. Cato stared after them, his heart heavy as lead as Julia was carried away from him. The two men detailed to kill Macro dismounted, tied their reins to the rail beside the tent and hurried across towards the cage.

'They're going to see the bodies any moment,' Macro whispered.

Cato nodded. 'We need those horses. They mustn't get away'

He rose into a crouch and glanced round at the others.' Ready?'

They nodded.

'Go!'

Cato launched himself forward, sprinting towards the two rebels as Macro, Atticus and Vulso scrambled after him. There was a sharp cry as one of the rebels saw the bodies sprawled on the ground. The sight momentarily distracted them, and it was only at the last instant that they turned towards the sounds of padding feet. Cato's sword swung out of the night, cutting into the shoulder of the nearest man and through to the bone. As he dropped like a side of beef, Macro took the second man with a thrust to the chest. He fell beside his comrade with a dull grunt and lay writhing at Macro's feet.

Sheathing his blade, Cato turned to Atticus.

'Stay out of sight until Fulvius comes up.'

'No, sir,' Atticus protested. 'We can help.'

'There are only two horses. There's nothing more you can do.

Macro, come on,' Cato ordered as he ran towards the tethered horses.

'Wait a moment.' Macro stopped to strip the tunic from one of the bodies and hurriedly pulled it on. 'That's better! What's the plan?'

Macro panted as he chased after his friend.

'Plan?' Cato took the reins of the nearest horse and sheathed his sword. 'We go after them and free Julia. Or die trying.'

'Nice to know you've thought it through.'

They scrambled into the saddles, took up the reins and turned the horses down the track Ajax and his men had taken. With a shout, Cato dug his heels in and urged his horse into a gallop. He knew it was madness for the two of them to attempt this pursuit by themselves, but he would not be able to live with the knowledge that he had let Julia remain a captive of the gladiator. There was no way that he and Macro alone could take on over twenty of Ajax's bodyguard, but he did not care. All reason was spent and he was driven on by his heart, willing only to save her or die in the attempt.

That last sight of her, terrified and vulnerable as she was carried off into the darkness, was branded on to his mind's eye as he leaned forward along the horse's neck and urged it on.

The path was broad and well trodden by generations of local people making the journey along the peninsula, perhaps to leave an offering at the shrine of a local deity, or to swim from one of the small coves along the coastline. Cato could only guess as he and Macro rode on, scanning the way ahead for sign of their prey. Ajax had spoken of boats. He must have some plan of escape. Cato had to find him before it could be put into effect.

To their left an expanse of the bay was lit up by the flames of the four ships, still ablaze. Beyond, the rebel camp was alive with tiny figures as the Roman soldiers cut a path through the shelters without mercy. Cato took one glance at the scene before he dismissed it and continued into the night. He knew the risk they were taking in galloping over unknown ground in the darkness. But already rosy-fingered dawn was lighting the horizon, and the route ahead was just discernible.

A mile after they had left the camp, Cato saw a shape ahead of him: another rider.

'We're catching them!' Macro called out.

Cato drew his sword, clasping the handle tightly, and slapped the flat of the blade on the horse's rump. The animal's flanks shivered between his thighs, and it put on an extra spurt as it closed on the rebel. More figures emerged from the darkness ahead of the man, and Cato felt a cold determination firm up his resolve.

He was no more than ten paces behind his quarry when the man glanced back over his shoulder. He stared at his pursuers a moment and then called ahead to the next man, who also looked back, as did another. They reined in and fell back as their horses slowed and then drew their swords. Meanwhile Cato closed on the rearmost man, watching him intently. As they began to draw level, the rebel slashed out with his sword. Cato clenched his thighs and threw his weight to one side, causing his horse to stagger, but it remained on its feet and the blade hissed through the air.

'My turn!' Cato snarled, stabbing out with his sword and catching the rebel in the side, just above his sword belt. The point pierced tunic, flesh and muscle before entering his guts, and then Cato ripped it free. The rider dropped his weapon and clasped his side as he bent forward over his saddle. Cato rode on. Macro had passed ahead of him. The two rebels had turned side on to block Macro and Cato.

They held their blades ready. Macro dug his heels in, aiming straight at them. His horse did as it was bid until the very last moment, when it tried to draw up and turn and its flank smashed into the side of one of the horses, pinning the rider's leg. The man gasped, but before he could recover Macro hacked at his sword arm, cutting deeply into the flesh above the elbow. The blade dropped from the man's hand as his horse staggered back and trotted off the track into the bushes that grew on each side.

Macro glanced round as the other man swung at him. He managed to parry the blow but the blade glanced off and struck his horse on the neck just behind the ears. At once the animal let out a shrill whinny and reared up on its hind legs, kicking out with the front. Macro was thrown back. He toppled from his saddle and flew through the air before crashing down on his side. There was a brief flash of light as his head struck the stony path, and the air was driven from his body with a sharp gasp. He forced himself on to his hands and knees and shook his head to clear his vision.

He heard the rebel click his tongue as he steadied his shaken mount and edged it towards the fallen Roman. Macro saw the legs of the horse clopping towards him, and the dull gleam of his blade a few feet away. He lunged for it, snatching at the handle as he rolled under the horse. The animal's belly loomed above him and Macro thrust the sword up, wincing as it struck home and blood spattered down on to his face. The horse whinnied in agony and threw itself forward. A ho of crashed down beside Macro's head as the rider desperately tried to steady his mount. A dark shape appeared beside him, and Cato thrust his blade into the small of the rebel's back.

Already half mad with pain, the stricken mount galloped off the path, down the slope, before stumbling. Rider and horse tumbled over and over amid the rocks and gorse for a moment, and then there was silence.

Macro staggered to his feet. He still felt dizzy and shook his head again to try and clear the sensation as he staggered towards the man he had wounded in the arm. The rebel was still in the saddle, moaning as he clutched at the wound. He did not see Macro until it was too late to escape. Macro took the reins and pointed his sword at the man.

'If you want to live, get off.'

The rebel nodded, and awkwardly eased his leg over the saddle and dropped to the ground on the far side of the horse. Then he rapidly backed away. Macro watched him carefully until the rebel was at a safe distance, then sheathed his sword and steadied the horse a moment before mounting it. The animal was skittish and Macro spoke to it calmly and clicked his tongue before walking it forward to join Cato.

'Are you all right?' Cato asked anxiously.

'Fine. Let's go.'

They urged their horses on and continued the pursuit. The brief fight had lost them some ground and Cato looked ahead keenly for any sight of the enemy as they rode along the narrow track. The route wound its way along the spine of the peninsula, and all the time he anticipated catching sight of the gladiator and his retinue again.

But there was no sign of them, and a terrible doubt formed in Cato's mind. Then the track crested a small rise that afforded a view of the peninsula stretching out ahead for some distance. Empty.

'Shit!' Cato hissed between clenched teeth.

'Where in Hades are they?' Macro growled.' How could we have missed them? How?'

'They must have gone off the main track,' Cato decided, cursing himself. 'We have to turn around.'

He yanked the reins round and trotted back along the track, glancing carefully from side to side. After a quarter of a mile he found what he was looking for; he had missed it as they had galloped past at speed a while earlier. A small path left the track, winding down the slope. They quickly turned aside from the main track and followed the path down as it wound between rocks and stunted trees. Below them they could hear the faint rush and hiss of waves on the shore, and then the track opened out on to the top of a small cliff before doubling back steeply as it carried on down towards a stretch of beach.

Cato heard voices shouting and the faint clatter of weapons. No more than a few hundred feet out to sea he saw the outline of a small Roman warship, and recognised it as one of the liburnians. A handful of smaller boats were clustered about the hull and Cato realised at once what was happening.

'Shit, that's the warship that ran aground. The rebels are taking it.'

They turned the horses down the path and urged them on. There was only a short distance to go, and then Cato and Macro emerged on to a thin strip of sand. The beach was a little over a hundred paces wide, and a handful of abandoned shacks lay clustered at the foot of the cliff. The rebels' horses had been left at the water's edge. A handful of small boats remained, and the two Romans swung themselves down from their saddles and ran across the sand towards them. Neither had sails, only oars. Cato grabbed the side of the nearest boat.

'Help me!'

He braced his feet in the surf and hauled the boat into the water as Macro grabbed the other side and pulled. It dragged stubbornly across the sand until a small wave lifted it up and they managed to heave it free of the shore. They pushed it out until the water was round their waists and then scrambled over the side. As Cato lifted the oars into the rowlock pegs and Macro sat heavily in the stern, the last sounds of fighting died away. The thin light of dawn filtered across the bay as Cato took his seat on the centre bench and desperately began to row out towards the liburnian. If the warship was still aground, then the rebels would not get away.

Cato knew that he and Macro were facing certain death once they reached the ship. He prayed that they might at least kill the gladiator before they were cut down, and that Julia could find some way to escape in the confusion. He looked over his shoulder and saw that he had closed the distance on the liburnian. Then he froze and looked more intently. The ship was moving up and down on the swell.

'I thought you said it had run aground,' said Macro.

'It was. The crew must have got her off just as the rebels came aboard.'

Cato realised that the marines must be dead, and the sailors and men at the oars were under the orders of Ajax and his followers. Cato started rowing again with all his strength, but his poor technique and frantic oar strokes were punished by the swell, which caused him to catch crabs on either side, one time lifting the oar right out of the pegs.

By the time they had closed to within fifty feet of the liburnian, Macro saw the long dark blades of the warship's oars bite down into the water. They made a stroke, rose, arced back and plunged into the sea again as the sleek vessel edged forwards.

'They're under way,' he said softly.

'No!' Cato groaned as he desperately redoubled his efforts.' No.

Please gods, no.'

The liburnian steadily gathered pace and began to swing out into the Bay of Olous, opening the gap between it and Cato. He kept rowing frantically, his limbs aching with the strain. The outline of the liburnian foreshortened as she presented her stern. Witha sickening certainty he knew that there was no chance of catching her now. He dropped the oars, rose to his feet, turned and braced his legs apart as he cupped his hands to his mouth and cried out,'Julia!..Julia!'

There was a pause before he heard her voice call back: ' Cato! Help me!'

Then she was cut off.

A pair of figures loomed up on the liburnians stern rail: Ajax, holding Julia tightly by the arm. He called out, mockingly,'You have lost her, Cato. Lost her for ever.'

'Julia!'

'She is mine now. Mine to do with as I will. Remember that.

Remember the vengeance of Ajax every day for the rest of your life.'

'No!' The cry was torn from Cato's lips.' No! '

Suddenly Julia's spare hand rose up. There was a glimmer of metal in her grip and she stabbed down into Ajax's shoulder. He recoiled with a bellow of surprise, pain and rage, glancing at the comb sticking out of his shoulder. Instinctively he reached for the wound with his other hand, releasing Julia. At once she threw herself over the stern rail, tumbling down into the sea with a splash. The liburnian was already gathering speed, and as Julia's head emerged above the water, gasping, the gap between her and the stern of the warship quickly grew. Cato had hurriedly taken up his oars again and was speeding the little craft across the water towards her as she struck out towards them with frantic splashing strokes.

Ajax had pulled the bloodied comb out and stood glaring down into the sea. There was nothing he could do to prevent her escape.

By the time he could turn the warship round and head back towards the beach, the little boat would have reached the shore again and his enemies would have escaped on the horses still on the beach. Besides, one of the Roman triremes was already heading back down the bay to come to the assistance of the liburnian that had run aground.

As the boat approached Julia, Macro scrambled to the bows, leaning over to reach out for her. Julia grabbed his wrist, and he hauled her closer before stretching out his spare hand to lift her under the shoulder.

'Up you come, miss!' he grunted as he pulled her over the side.

'I've got her, Cato. Turn us round and get back to the shore, quick as you can.'

Cato worked the small craft round and started for the shore, expecting the warship to turn back towards them at any moment.

But the liburnian headed steadily towards the mouth of the bay. The oars dipped and thrust through the sea at a regular pace as it drew swiftly away from the small boat. Ajax remained at the stern rail for a while, before he turned and disappeared from sight.

'We're safe,' Macro said in relief.

Cato lowered his oars and turned to embrace Julia as she stumbled towards the centre of the boat and fell into his arms. For a while all was still on the little craft. Cato held her tight, pressing his cheek to the top of her head as he breathed deeply. Macro turned away and stared after the liburnian as it disappeared around the small island at the end of the rocky peninsula and headed out to sea.