far that it took repeated and painful efforts to shift it.
Julia's cries and muttered protests had no effect and she sat with gritted teeth. It was strange how the filth that had been caked to her body had seemed to hide her nakedness; now, and as it was cleaned away, she began to feel self-conscious under the constant gaze of the guard standing close by. Once the woman had completed cleaning her body and the skin was white and flushed red in places from hard scrubbing, she turned to her long dark hair, thrusting her head over the side of the trough as she ladled water over the back of her scalp and then worked her fingers in vigorously, pulling mercilessly at the tangles until they came free.
As the woman dried her hair, Julia forced herself to think through what Macro had said as she was pulled from the cage. There was a chance of finding something she could use as a weapon in Ajax's tent.
Something she could surreptitiously get hold of. If there was a way to do it, she would attempt to kill him, and the thought of it filled her with a brief thrill of triumph. She felt her heart beat against her breast with excitement at the prospect. Then the woman threw the cloth aside and stuck a comb into Julia's hair. There was a sharp pain that made her cry out as the woman wrenched it through the remaining tangles. She turned instinctively and slapped the crone.
'Take care, slave!'
Julia regretted the outburst as soon as she had uttered the words.
Rage glittered in the old woman's eyes and her hands clenched into claws as she bared her teeth.
'Fucking bitch! Call me a slave!' She lashed out, knocking Julia off the stool. At once she threw herself on the naked Roman, hammering blows at her face as Julia drew her arms up protectively. Fists rained down, battering her shoulders and arms as the old woman attacked her in a savage frenzy.
'Mother! That's enough,' the guard shouted, striding two paces towards them. He grabbed the old woman's wrists and lifted her bodily away.' I said, that's enough!'
The old woman's lips were flecked with spittle as she snarled,
'Let me go! I'll kill her!'
'No you won't! Not unless you want to answer to the general.'
The woman was staring at Julia, and lashed out with her foot, kicking Julia in the stomach. The guard dragged her away and shook her. 'I said that's enough, Mother.'
Julia rolled on to her side with a groan, and felt the long, thin handle of the comb press into her side. She reached for it with one hand and held it against the inside of her forearm.
'You heard her!' the old woman wailed. 'Just like that bitch back in Gortyna. You've seen the scars on me back. You've seen 'em.' She began to sob and be came limp so the guard had to hold her up, cradling her gently in his arms.
'It's all right, Mother. That's over. Shhh.' He brushed her wiry grey hair with his hand.
'What's all that noise?'
Julia looked up to see Ajax striding out of his tent towards them.
His expression was dark and he glared at the three figures round the trough. 'What is going on? Get up!' he snarled at Julia before turning his attention to the old woman and the guard, who regarded him with a mixture of fear and awe. 'Well?'
'It was the lady, General,' the guard explained. 'She provoked my mother into attacking her. I had to separate them.'
Ajax stared at them briefly before looking at Julia, rising to her feet. Her skin was clean and his eyes feasted on her body. 'That is the nature of Romans, they bring out the worst in others.
Don't worry.' Ajax turned back to the old woman. 'If she has caused offence then she will be paying for it tonight. When I have finished, you can do as you will with her. Only leave her alive, understand?'
The old woman nodded gleefully.
Ajax clicked his fingers.' Then finish cleaning her up, and find her something to wear. Something fine and Roman. I want to enjoy soiling her.' He approached Julia, stood before her and raised his hand to tilt her chin. His arm brushed her breast and Ajax felt a flush of lust in his loins as he raised her face towards him. Julia met his gaze with a defiant expression.
Ajax laughed cruelly.' Oh, you won't be so haughty before this night is out. I promise you. You'll beg for my mercy'
'I'd rather die.'
'I'm sure you would, but you don't escape your punishment that easily'
'Punishment?' Julia frowned. 'What have I ever done to deserve this?'
Ajax took his hand away and retreated a step. 'You were born a Roman.' He turned to the others. 'Prepare her for me as swiftly as possible. When she is dressed and scented, bring her straight to me.'
'Yes, General.' The guard bowed his head.
As Ajax strode back towards his tent, the old woman chuckled as she advanced on Julia with a chilling grin.' Them stripes on my back will be nothing to the scars he's going to leave on you.'
After two hours in the water, Cato was beginning to shiver. As far as he could estimate, he had covered a mile and a half along the bay. He was doubting the wisdom of his plan. Around him he could just see the darker shapes of heads and the inflated waterskins bobbing on the surface. Every so often one of the section leaders would call out to his men and make sure that they were still with him. Optio Atticus and the others swam close by their commander. There was no telling how the group heading for the beached ships was progressing, and Cato could only hope that they reached their targets at roughly the same time that he and his men began to board the anchored ships.
That moment was less than an hour away. Cato kicked out and continued forward, trying to ignore the numbing chill that was creeping into his body.
Ahead, the fires of the rebel camp gradually became more distinct, and he could see individual figures by the light of the flames. A dark mass directly ahead blotted out the fires beyond, and Cato realised that he was nearing the grain ships. He stopped and raised an arm.
'On me! On me!'
The water churned around him as the words were passed on and the men began to gather on the steady swell. Once the sounds of splashing had ceased and Cato was happy that as many men as possible were with him, he called out again, as loudly as he dared: 'Let's go!
The men kicked out, spreading out a little as they approached the ships. They silently swam towards their targets with grim determination. Cato made directly for the centre of the rafted ships, and gradually they blotted out all sight of the camp beyond. He could hear the lap of the waves against their hulls, and even an occasional voice above the slap and hiss of the sea. He slowed his pace, kicking steadily but carefully so that he did not break the surface of the water. Ahead of him he saw a dark line against the background and realised he had come across an anchor cable. He made for it and grasped the coarse rope, finding it reassuringly steady. Slipping the shoulder strap of the waterskin and the bundled weapons securely over his head and shoulder, he eased himself on to the anchor cable and began to work up towards the bows of the ship.
Emerging from the water his skin tingled in the breeze, but the concentration and effort needed to edge forwards made him ignore the discomfort. He wormed his way up the cable, dripping as he edged towards the hawse, where it passed through the stout timbers of the grain ship. The further up he crawled, the more it began to sway, and his muscles tensed as he struggled to stay astride it. Then the timbers of the hull were within reach, and Cato held on with one hand while the other scrabbled up the weathered surface, over the side and gripped on. He pulled himself up, then grabbed at the side rail with his other hand. His shoulder muscles protested painfully as he drew his body up and peered over the side. There was no one visible in the bows. Beyond the foredeck there was a short drop to the main deck, where a sturdy hatch coaming led down into the hold. Aft, the deck rose up again to the steering platform. Several men lay or sat on the main deck, while one stood by the handle of the steering paddle, spear in hand. The stench of pitch filled the air and Cato saw a dull glow at the stern where a lamp burned inside a small leather screen. Ajax's threat to burn the ships was quite real.
Cato eased his feet up on to the cable and pressed down as he heaved himself over the side, controlling the movement as best he could so that he did not land on the deck with a thud. Instead, he landed on top of a man sleeping in the shelter of the ship's side.
There was a grunt as Cato's knees winded the rebel, who gasped as he stirred to find a wet, near-naked figure sprawled over him. Cato bunched his fist and drove it into the rebel's face, snapping his head back against
