07 The Eagle In the Sand

07 The Eagle In the Sand

THE EAGLE IN THE SAND

SIMON SCARROW

07 The Eagle In the Sand

CHAPTER ONE

Centurion Macro noticed them first: a small band of men with hoods drawn over their heads casually entering the crowded street from a dark alley and merging with the flow of people, animals and carts heading for the great market in the outer court of the temple. Even though it was only mid-morning the sun was already beating down on Jerusalem and ripening the air in the narrow streets with a stifling intensity of smells: the familiar odours of cities throughout the empire, and other scents that were strange and evocative of the east - spice, citron and balsam.

In the glaring sunshine and baking air, Macro could feel the sweat pricking out all over his face and body, and he wondered how any man could bear to go hooded in this heat. He stared at the band of men as they made their way along the street, not twenty paces ahead. They did not talk to each other, and barely acknowledged the jostling crowd around them as they moved forward with the flow. Macro switched the reins of his mule to the other hand and nudged his companion, Centurion Cato, riding alongside him at the head of the small column of auxiliary recruits shuffling along behind the two officers.

‘They’re up to no good.’

‘Hm?’ Cato glanced round. ‘Sorry. What did you say?’

‘Up ahead.’ Macro quickly gestured towards the men he was watching. ‘See that lot with covered heads?’

Cato squinted for a moment before he fixed his eyes on the men Macro had indicated. ‘Yes. What about them?’