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Back The Legion Save as PDF
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

The first of the attackers reached the door and pounded on it. To little effect, as the door was secured with a wooden bar and some meal bags had been piled behind it. By the time Macro had climbed down and joined his men, as they snatched up the shields of the renegades they had killed, the first axe blows were thudding into the aged timber. A moment later a long splinter of wood shot back from the inside of the door. More splinters exploded as axes crashed home. Then a long sliver of wood bent down and the dull edge of the axe head protruded, a finger’s width, through the door. When the axe was wrenched free, it left a narrow gap through which Macro could see the men outside in the pale dawn light. More blows smashed through the weakened timber and hands wrenched at the shattered lengths of wood.

‘Don’t worry, lads,’ Macro said evenly. ‘There’s only one way in. All we have to do is keep ’em out until the prefect gets here.’

He glanced round at the men standing poised in the gloom and noted their expressions. Some looked grim but determined, while a handful of others, younger, had an anxious, fearful look in their eyes. It was a centurion’s duty to lead from the front, to inspire his men, and Macro eased himself forward towards the door, sword clenched in his right hand. He drew out his dagger and held it in the other hand. With a splintering crack a length of the door was pulled away, then more pieces, until only a shattered fringe remained. Outside, the renegades closed round. The first man stepped up, then kicked the makeshift barrier of meal sacks over. He carried a spear and he lowered the tip and thrust at Macro with a grunt. The leaf-shaped head stabbed towards his midriff and Macro parried it away as he swung to his left. At once he recovered his balance and lunged at the spearman, forcing him back, out of the door.

‘Form up around the door!’ Macro shouted. ‘Take ’em from the side as they come in.’

As the men hurried into place, the spearman thrust again, hands gripping the shaft tightly and legs braced apart. This time he fully concentrated his attention on the centurion, as if they were paired in a duel. He weighed Macro up with an expert eye, and feinted. Macro flinched for an instant and then he grinned.

‘I don’t fool that easy. Try harder.’