Symeon shrugged. 'Perhaps they believe their god is saving them for something special.'
'Their god?' Cato looked at the guide curiously. 'Yours too, surely?'
'I told you. I no longer subscribe to the faith.'
'What do you believe in?'
Symeon did not reply straight away, but glanced briefly at the distant crowd of people being baptised before he spoke. 'I'm not quite sure what I believe in any more…'
'What about that lot we passed yesterday?' Macro broke in. 'The Essenes, or whatever you called 'em.'
'Essenes,' Symeon confirmed.'They're simple enough. The Essenes believe that the world of men is corrupt, evil and unspiritual.That is why God has not favoured Judaea. They try to live a simple, unadorned life. All possessions belong to the community and they live strictly according to the word of the holy books.'
'Not the best of drinking companions, then?'
The guide glanced at Macro. 'No. I suppose not.'
'Any more sects worth mentioning?'
'Just one. Most of them live in a small settlement near Bushir. They're a lot like the Essenes. At least some of them are.The ones who call themselves the true followers of Jehoshua. The trouble is, they have a rival faction.'
'The one led by Bannus,' said Cato.
'Yes, that's right.' Symeon glanced at him in surprise.
'I must have heard of him in Jerusalem,' Cato explained quickly.
Symeon continued. 'Bannus claims that Jehoshua meant his people to use force to establish the authority of his teachings, and that the Essenes are attempting to take over the movement and corrupt Jehoshua's creed. He says they have watered it down into a powerless set of beliefs. The irony is that although they have a limited number of followers in Judaea, there are cells springing up all over the Empire according to my friend Florianus.'
'Who is the leader of this faction?' asked Cato.
Symeon looked at him closely. 'Do you really need to know? Bannus is the real danger. Remove him, and the province might have a chance to be at peace.'
'You're right, of course,' Cato replied smoothly. 'I just like to know the full details of a situation, that's all.'
The far bank of the Jordan rose slowly and the track passed by groves of trees and scores of small farms, drawing on irrigation water from the river that gave life to the entire valley. In the afternoon they approached the line of mountains that climbed up to the great plateau beyond and the land became far more barren with little sign of life apart from the occasional herd of sheep tended by children. As soon as they saw the horsemen approach they hurriedly drove their beasts in the opposite direction, disappearing into the small gullies that meandered across the plain.
As the sun began to sink towards the horizon Symeon led them into the wadi and the track clung to the steep slope as it wound its way up into the rocks.Very soon the track became so narrow that the column could only continue in single file, the horses carefully picking their way along, keeping away from the crumbling edge of the track. Every so often one of the beasts dislodged a small rock that skittered down the slope, trailed by a shower of shingle. The wadi was quite dry and exposed to the full strength of the sun so there was almost no vegetation and the noises made by the passage of the column echoed off the walls of the rock above them.
Cato glanced back and saw they had little more than an hour of light left.
'Symeon… We can't spend the night along this track.'
'A little further. There's a wide ledge. We'll camp there.'
'Is it safe?'
'Yes. The path continues like this at either end of the ledge. There's no other way to reach it. Not even for a goat.'
Cato nodded with relief.
The horsemen emerged onto the ledge just as the last glimmer of the sun disappeared over the horizon and the sky flared up in brilliant hues of orange and purple. The riders dismounted wearily and roped their mounts together away from the edge. Feed was taken out of the coarse bags hanging from the saddle frames and spread around the animals for them to graze on. Once the optio had posted sentries on the track at each end of the ledge the men settled down for the night.
Macro gave the order that no fires were to be lit. In the clear mountain air they would be visible for many miles and alert any bandits, or worse the sicarians, to their precise position. Once the last of the light had faded Macro, Cato and Symeon sat on a flat rock and stared back across the Jordan valley. To their left the Dead Sea stretched out dark and forbidding as its name.A scattering of tiny lights flickered across the wide floor of the valley, and so clear was the air that beyond, far away, Cato could just make out a cluster of sparks.
He raised his hand and pointed it out. 'Is that Jerusalem?'
Beside him Symeon squinted for an instant and then nodded. 'It is. Your sight is good, Roman. Very good indeed.'
'In our line of work, it needs to be.'
Macro shivered. 'It's cold. I'd never have thought it after the heat down there.'
'The nights will get colder still when we reach the plateau,' said Symeon as he rose up. 'I'll get our cloaks.'
'Thanks.'
As the guide strode away towards the scattered dark shapes of the men settling down for the night Cato tipped his head back and stared into the sky. It was, as Symeon had indicated, quite beautiful. Overhead hundreds of stars gleamed with cold ethereal brilliance.
'You know, I think I can begin to see why our friend likes this life.'
'What's to like?' Macro muttered. 'We're cold, surrounded by hostile natives and as far from a decent inn and a warm woman as I ever want to be.'
'True, but look at the stars… the view. It's magnificent.'
Macro fixed his gaze on the darkened features of his friend and shook his head pityingly. 'You've been in the army for what, nearly four years?'
'Yes… So?'
'So when are you going to stop talking like some poncy poet?'
'I don't know,' Cato said quietly. 'When I've seen enough of this world to grow tired of it, I suppose.'
'I can hardly wait,' Macro said quietly as Symeon trudged back to them with the thick army cloaks bundled under his arm.
In the morning, they continued up the path, still in single file. Most of the men had been too cold to sleep through the night and were stiff and tired. Nevertheless, they kept a wary eye on the cliffs above them for any sign of trouble. Soon the path broadened out into a track and the slope became more gentle. Cato breathed a sigh of relief as he urged his mount alongside Symeon and Macro.
'Looks like we've given them the slip.'
'Bunch of women,' Macro growled. 'That's what they are.'
Symeon did not reply. Instead he was scanning the low ridge ahead of them that marked the beginning of the great plateau. Suddenly he reined his horse in.
'You spoke too soon, Centurion,' he said softly. 'Look up there.'
Cato's eyes flickered along the ridge and stopped as he saw a small group of men rising up from the rocks, so that they were starkly silhouetted against the sky. More men appeared, scores of them, and then a line of horsemen, directly across the breadth of the track where it crossed the ridge. As the optio bellowed orders for his men to dump their kit, put on their helmets and prepare their weapons, Macro's hand instinctively grasped his sword handle.
'Now we're for it,' he said quietly
Symeon glanced round at the centurion with a grim smile. 'Not bad work for a bunch of women.'
As he spoke, one of the horsemen edged his beast forward, down the track towards the Romans.
07 The Eagle In the Sand
CHAPTER SIX
'It's Bannus,' Symeon said quietly.
As Cato threw his straw hat aside and jammed his helmet on to his head he looked at their guide in surprise. 'You know him?'
'We've met before.'
'As friends, I hope.'
'We were friends, many years ago.' He glanced quickly at Cato. 'But not now.'
'You might have mentioned this before,' Cato muttered.
'I didn't think it was important, Centurion. Besides, you didn't ask.'
'If we get out of this, I think there might be a few questions I'll want answers to.'
Bannus reined his horse in when he was a short distance away and smiled as he recognised the guide. He addressed him in Greek.
'When my men told me about the archer in the fort, I should have guessed. These Roman soldiers are not welcome here, but peace be with you, Symeon of Bethsaida.'
'And with you, Bannus of Canaan. How may we be of service to you?'
'I want those two Roman officers surrendered to me. You and the others can return to Jerusalem, after we have disarmed you.'
Symeon shook his head.'You know that is impossible. You would dishonour me, and my family.'
Bannus stared at him a moment before he continued. 'For the sake of the old days, I will ask you again to hand over those two men, and your weapons. I would not have your blood on my hands.'
'Then stand aside and let us pass.'
'No. Those two have slain three of my men in Jerusalem.They must be executed to serve as an example to the people of Judaea.'
'And what of me? I slew three of your men at the fort.'
'My fight is with Rome, Symeon. As yours should be.' He stretched out his hand. 'Join us.'
'No.'
Bannus let his hand drop, and turned his attention to the men of the cavalry squadron. 'Surrender these two officers to me and you will live. Now lay down your arms!'
Macro nudged Cato.'Who does he think he's fooling? He'd kill the auxiliaries the moment he'd taken their weapons.' Macro took a breath, drew his sword and shouted towards Bannus.'If you want our weapons, come and get them!'
'Shhh!' Cato hissed. 'Who do you think you are – Leonidas?'
Bannus glared at them a moment, then nodded his head in farewell to Symeon and turned his horse to gallop back up the slope towards his men. Macro called the decurion over to them. 'What are our chances?'
'None, if we stay put and try to defend ourselves. We have to charge, cut our way through and run for it. Just give the order, sir. But do it now, before they attack.'
Macro nodded. 'Let's go.'
The decurion turned back to his men. 'Form tight wedge!'
As the horses shuffled into position, Macro and Cato fastened their helmet straps, untied their baggage and tossed it aside. Symeon reached for his bow and carefully unwrapped it, strung it, then loosened the end of his quiver. By the time the three men joined the formation Bannus had reached his men and was barking out a string of orders. He had positioned slingers and archers on either flank, and in the middle, astride the track, stood a band of swordsmen on foot, mostly poorly armed and carrying wicker shields. Some had helmets and leather cuirasses. A short distance behind them, right on the crest of the ridge, stood Bannus and his horsemen, armed with a mix of spears and bows. As soon as he saw the slingers begin to fit stones to their pouches Cato turned to the decurion.
'Now! Give the order now!'
The decurion nodded, drew a breath and called out. 'Squadron! Advance!'
The rough wedge formation rippled forward, the auxiliaries grasping their reins tightly in the hand behind their shields. In the other hand they held their spears, vertically, so as not to risk injury to their comrades before they made contact with the enemy. Above them, on each flank, the slingers were starting to whirl their weapons up above their heads, as the archers drew their bows. Cato found himself angrily willing the decurion to order his men to charge forward, before it was too late. Then he chastened himself. The decurion was a professional, and knew his business.
'Squadron, at the trot, advance!'
His men kicked in their heels and the formation lurched forward, just as the first ragged volley of slingshot and arrows arced into the air. The abrupt change of pace confounded the brigands' careful aim and most of the missiles clattered on to the ground a short distance behind the wedge. A handful of shots found the shields of the rearmost men. One horse whinnied in terror as an arrow plunged into its rump. It reared up, but the rider managed to keep his seat and urged his mount back into the formation.
'Charge!' the decurion cried out from the front of the wedge, stabbing his sword into the air. His men roared out their battle cry, kicked in their heels and the wedge surged forward. In the second rank, Cato and Macro gripped their reins and hung on grimly as their mounts flowed onward with the rest, manes and tails streaming. Dust and grit filled the air as the charge burst up the slope towards Bannus and his brigands. From the flanks the attackers aimed more arrows and slingshot at the Romans and this time more missiles found their targets. Ahead to his left Cato saw a stone strike the head of one of the auxiliaries. The blow knocked the man's head to one side and his spear, shield and reins dropped from his nerveless fingers, causing the horse to swerve. Then the rider toppled to one side and the riderless horse galloped on regardless. To his right Cato caught a glimpse of Macro, grim-faced, and bending forward as low as his saddle horns would allow. Beyond him was Symeon, superbly poised as he notched an arrow and raised his bow, ready to shoot.
Ahead of them Bannus raced down to his footmen and urged them to hold their ground. But the sight of the oncoming cavalry proved too much for some, and they melted away, rushing out of the path of the horsemen. Then, before Cato realised it had happened, they crashed into the enemy line. Abruptly the air was filled with the scrape and clatter of weapons, grunts and cries from the men, snorts and whinnying from the horses. There was a blur low and to his right and Cato thrust his sword towards a lithe man in a dirty turban. He ducked aside, the tip of the sword grazing his shoulder. With a snarl he slashed back at Cato with a thin curved blade and Cato wrenched his sword back just in time to block the blow with his guard. Then Cato cut down, striking the turban hard with the edge of his sword. The material absorbed the cutting force of the blade but the weight of Cato's blow knocked the man senseless and he collapsed into the dust swirling about the feet and hooves of those locked in the deadly skirmish. Cato glanced round. Macro was slashing at a pair of swordsmen, shouting insults into their faces as he dared them to fight him. Symeon drew an arrow, swivelling in his saddle as he swiftly notched a bead on his target, and released the string.The arrow flew ten paces through the air, punched into a man's chest and burst out of his spine in a bloody welter of torn flesh.
'Forward!' Cato shouted. 'Don't stop! Go forward!'
The decurion glanced back, nodded, and took up the cry. His men urged their mounts on as they fought free of the brigands, and as soon as they were clear they surged up the last stretch of the slope towards the waiting horsemen. Bannus drew his sword and grasped a round shield tightly across his left side as he shouted an order to his followers.With a cry they launched their mounts forward, down towards the auxiliaries.The wedge formation was long broken and now the Romans charged in a ragged mass. The two sides came together in a swirl of gleaming swords, horseflesh, flowing robes and glinting armour. Without a shield Cato felt horribly vulnerable and he hunched down, sword held low as he urged his horse through the melee, trying to break through the brigands. He could hear Macro roaring above the din. 'Cut through them! Cut through!'