Snatching at the reins, he kicked his heels in and urged the horse down the path towards the main body of the rebel camp. As he passed the cage where Centurion Macro sat behind bars, he heard the Roman cheering madly, but there was no time to stop and silence his tongue. Ajax resolved to do that the first moment that could be spared.
It would be a pity to kill Centurion Macro quickly, but die he must, to honour the memory of his father. All around, figures were rising up in the glow of the camp fires and staring in confusion towards the distant fighting. Ajax bellowed at them to take up their weapons and make for the battle, before the Romans took the grain ships.
As he galloped through the camp, swerving here and there to avoid those who were too slow to react to the approaching rider, Ajax felt sick in the pit of his stomach. He had underestimated his enemy. He had been certain that the threat to destroy the grain ships, vital to the survival of Rome, would forestall any attempt to attack his camp. The ships had been carefully prepared by his men, flammable materials placed in the holds and doused with oil and pitch, ready to set on fire at the first sign of approaching Roman warships. So where were the fires? Ajax reined his horse in as he reached a small rise in the ground, and strained his eyes as he tried to make out what was happening across the bay. He could see one of the beached ships by the light of a brazier burning on the sand. Men were clustered about its bows, splashing in the shallows as they attempted to climb aboard and grapple with those defending the vessel. Then it hit him. The Romans had taken the ship. Taken all the ships… But then a sudden lick of flame from further down the beach lit up the deck and mast of one of the vessels. The fire caught and more flames gushed up into the night, accompanied by flickering tracery as the rigging started to burn. Out in the bay another fire started. Not all the ships had been taken then. There might still be a chance to beat off the attack and seize the ships back from the Romans, or at least burn them all to prevent them falling into the hands of his hated enemy.
Several of his bodyguards had caught up with him, and Ajax raised his arm and called out as he charged on towards the beach: 'Follow me!'
As they galloped on through the camp, he continued to call his followers to arms and order them to the beach. At the same time, part of his mind raged at himself. How had the Romans done this? How had they managed to get to the grain ships without being seen? He had taken every precaution. There were men watching all the approaches from land and out to sea. They could not have missed so many of the enemy. Surely? They must have used boats, but any boats would have been seen, even on this moonless night. It would only have been possible if they had swum the length of the bay, under the cover of darkness. That had to be it, he decided, furious with himself.
He could not help a moment of grudging admiration for his enemy, and then the horses reached the beach.
A large group of his men stood clustered at the edge of the camp.
Ajax halted and turned towards the riders following him. 'Kharim!
Are you with me?'
'Yes, General!' Kharim edged his mount through the others. He was naked save for a loincloth and his sword belt.
'Stay here. Get these men formed. You are to hold this part of the camp. If I send for you, come at once, you hear?'
Kharim bowed his head. 'Yes, General.'
Ajax rode on, through the gates at the end of the palisade. They were inside the perimeter of the main camp and had been left open.
Ahead of him there was utter confusion. Only one ship along the beach had been fired and it was now well ablaze, filling the air with the roar of its flames and the crackle of bursting timber as sparks swirled into the heavens. The intensity of the glare lit up the surrounding sand and water for some distance. The din of battle came from the far end of the beach, and yet all along its length — his men were visible clustered about the bows of the beached ships, trying to clamber aboard and get at the Romans, who were stripped to the waist and desperately holding them off with swords, spears and even oars.
The enemy on the ships were not the real danger, Ajax realised. It was the force rolling up his flank. If they could be thrown back, then the ships could be retaken later. He drew his sword and rode on, bellowing to the rebels along the beach,'Follow me! Follow me!'
He gathered more and more men as he hurriedly made his way towards the battle raging at the far end. The fight was not going well.
The Romans had already overrun the redoubt and were surging forward over the sand, oblong shields smashing down their more lightly armed opponents, and then the legionaries finished off the rebels with thrusts from their short swords. Ajax knew that the vast majority of his men were no match for legionaries, but if they could amass a sufficient force to stall the attack, there was a chance the weight of numbers might yet force them back over the palisade. But first they had to be rallied.
'Bodyguard! To me!' Ajax bellowed above the clash of weapons, the thud of blows on shields and the cries of the wounded. Those horsemen who had followed him from the other side of the bay steadied their snorting mounts and held their weapons ready. Ajax saw that he had thirty or forty of them with him now. Enough to make a difference. He turned back towards the enemy, fifty paces along the beach, cutting their way through the dissolving ranks of the rebels as they began to fall back.
'Charge!' Ajax stabbed his sword out and dug his heels in. The horse whinnied, reared up for a moment and then plunged forward, head down and hooves thudding into the coarse sand as it galloped madly towards the enemy.
The rebels ahead of him heard the approaching horsemen and did their best to escape from their path, but several were mown down and trampled underfoot. Ahead of him, Ajax could see that the Romans were not in formation, but had scattered as they began their pursuit. At the head of his band of bodyguards, he crashed in amongst them. The legionaries were as well armoured as any man he had faced in the arena, and Ajax held his sword poised to strike at any unprotected arms, faces and throats. Two Romans stood ahead of him and were knocked aside as his mount slammed into their shields.
Leaning to his right, the gladiator thrust down into the neck exposed as a legionary stumbled. It was a shallow thrust, no more than a few inches, but it would mortally wound his enemy, and Ajax rode on, keeping his head low. He saw a crested helmet to one side, and steered towards the centurion attempting to rally his unit. At the last moment the man turned, and in the glow of the ship blazing behind the gladiator his eyes widened. He was too late to react, and the tip of Ajax's blade smashed through his eye, shattering his skull as it plunged on into his brain. Ripping the blade free, Ajax turned his horse again.
Glancing round, Ajax saw that his charge had broken the Roman attack. Several legionaries were down, some had grouped back to back in small clusters, while others were retreating along the beach.
He had bought his men only a brief respite. Less than a hundred paces away, the second Roman formation was advancing towards the rebels, a solid wall of shields with standards raised behind the leading ranks. An order was barked and the legionaries clattered their swords against the sides of their shields, producing a deafening metallic din that unnerved Ajax's horse.
'Easy, easy there.' He patted its flank and realised that his bodyguard was the only rebel group standing firm on the beach. The rest were falling back. With a hiss of frustration, Ajax knew that the fight on the beach was lost. It might still be possible to deploy Kharim's men, many of whom had weapons and armour looted from the Roman soldiers they had killed. They might hold the legionaries back long enough for the rest of the army to be rallied, ready to hurl themselves on the hated Romans.
'Fall back!' Ajax ordered. 'To the camp!'
The horsemen turned and rode back along the beach, covering the retreat of those on foot retreating before them. As they passed the ships, the Romans on board watched them silently, too exhausted to cheer as their enemy gave ground. But once they caught sight of their comrades advancing along the beach, below their standards, a cheer rose up, passed on from ship to ship, and as he heard it, Ajax's lips twisted into a bitter snarl of frustration.
When he returned through the gateway of the palisade, he saw Kharim on his horse, watching intently. Catching sight of him, Kharim waved an arm and spurred his horse forward.
'General! The sentries report another Roman force moving down from their camp.' He thrust his arm up
