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Chapters (43)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Page
  3. By Simon Scarrow
  4. Dedication
  5. Acknowledgements
  6. CHAPTER ONE
  7. CHAPTER TWO
  8. CHAPTER THREE
  9. CHAPTER FOUR
  10. CHAPTER FIVE
  11. CHAPTER SIX
  12. CHAPTER SEVEN
  13. CHAPTER EIGHT
  14. CHAPTER NINE
  15. CHAPTER TEN
  16. CHAPTER ELEVEN
  17. CHAPTER TWELVE
  18. CHAPTER THIRTEEN
  19. CHAPTER FOURTEEN
  20. CHAPTER FIFTEEN
  21. CHAPTER SIXTEEN
  22. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
  23. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
  24. CHAPTER NINETEEN
  25. CHAPTER TWENTY
  26. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
  27. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
  28. CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
  29. CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
  30. CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
  31. CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
  32. CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
  33. CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
  34. CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
  35. CHAPTER THIRTY
  36. CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
  37. CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
  38. CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
  39. CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
  40. CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
  41. CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
  42. EPILOGUE
  43. AUTHOR’S NOTE

Hamedes did not appear to be reassured and shot a questioning look at Cato, who simply smiled and then sat up as straight as possible as the boat began to pass along the island. The crews of the bolt throwers were standing by their weapons, the launch beds angled up in the direction of the far bank. A short distance behind the artillery stood the men of the three cohorts waiting to follow the first wave of the assault. As the boats passed by, the centurion of the Fourth Century punched his fist into the air and called out. ‘Stick it to ’em, Jackals!’

The other men echoed his cry as they urged their comrades on. Some of the men on the boats shouted back but most sat in sombre silence as the boats passed out from behind the island and turned towards the bank. The felucca carrying Macro and Cato was a short distance behind the first two craft and Macro stood up and cupped a hand to his mouth.

‘You there! Remember your bloody orders! We go in at the same time! Slow down!’

The officers in charge of the two boats hurriedly ordered their crews to spill some of the wind from the sails and gradually Macro’s vessel caught up with them. The rest of the flotilla took up their positions on the flanks as the unwieldy line made for the riverbank. Directly ahead of them Cato could see the waiting enemy. Hundreds of them. Half had dismounted and stood in small bands armed with round shields and curved swords that glinted as they caught the afternoon sunshine. In between the men on foot were more Arabs mounted on camels. They carried bows and began to notch their first arrows as the boats approached.

A blast from a bucina sounded and an instant later the arms of the bolt throwers sprang forward and cracked against their padded restraints as they discharged the long heavy shafts, tipped with iron, arcing across the water ahead of the flotilla. Macro clambered up on to the foredeck of the felucca to watch the fall of shot and made a fist as he saw a bolt cut through one of the groups of Arabs with a swirl as three men went down. Another slammed into the flank of a camel and there was a sharp, terrified grunt, before the animal collapsed, sending its rider sprawling into the long grass. A man on horseback rode down the riverbank waving his arm and shouting orders and the Arabs quickly dispersed to present less of a target to the bolt throwers.

‘Bloody hell,’ Macro muttered as he stared at the man. He squinted and then felt a cold tremor as he recognised the rider. ‘It’s him . . . Cato! Sir! It’s him, Ajax.’

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE