‘Shit!’ Macro snarled, as he braced his feet and looked over the edge of the ramp. By the light of the torch guttering close to the legate, Macro saw Aurelius lying spreadeagled on his back. His mouth was open in a soundless scream and his eyes blinked rapidly as blood, dark as pitch, spread out behind his head.

Another arrow shot up the tunnel, narrowly missing the two archers before it bounced off Macro’s shield at an upward angle and clattered off the wall of the chamber. Macro quickly stepped past the wounded archer and lowered his shield to provide cover from the next arrow. A moment later there was a loud crack, amplified by the surrounding rock, as a second arrow struck Macro’s shield squarely and punched through the layers of leather and wood as it lodged. He grabbed the torch from the leading archer. ‘Get behind my shield and start shooting back!’

The man nodded and hurriedly plucked an arrow from his quiver, strung it, drew back and then bobbed up just long enough to release the shaft down the tunnel.

‘Keep that up!’ Macro ordered, and then turned to look up the ramp. The wounded archer was shuffling back along the line of men who had pressed themselves to the ground, and where the ramp entered the tunnel, they hugged the walls. Hamedes was crouched down a short distance behind Macro.

‘What happened to the legate?’ asked Macro.

‘I don’t know, sir. He was just ahead of me, then stumbled and must have lost his footing.’

‘Right, well, we have to get him out.’ Macro raised his voice and called back up the line. ‘Pass the rope forward!’

There was a brief delay, during which another three arrows came flying up from the depths of the tomb, two striking Macro’s shield while the third whipped past and splintered against the rock just beside the tunnel leading up to the tomb’s entrance. Then the coil of rope appeared, passed from man to man until Hamedes took hold of it. Macro had already seen that there was nothing to tie the end to and he pointed back up the tunnel. ‘Find an anchor man to tie it round his waist and then have four more on the rope to take the strain.’

‘Yes, sir. Let me go down and get the legate.’

‘No. You take my shield. I’ll do it,’ Macro decided.

Hamedes came forward, squeezing between the archer and Macro, and took hold of the handle. Macro grasped his shoulder as he gave him his orders. ‘Move forward, nice and slow, like. No more than ten paces into the next section of tunnel. The archer goes with you. Keep harassing whoever it is that’s down there taking pot shots. Clear?’

Hamedes and the archer nodded.

‘Then get on with it.’