The Black Stone (2 page)

‘Sir, what’s happening?’ someone asked. Ursus ignored him; he was counting the men as they filed out. Eight were armed and ready to move and a couple had even found time to strap on their helmets. A ninth came through the door and instantly dropped down to tie his boots. Ursus slapped him on the shoulder. ‘Wait here. Tell Agorix to bring the rest and meet me at the temple end of the path.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘You others, follow me.’

Ursus tightened his belt two notches and set off, the men behind him. At his insistence, torches had been put in at sixty-foot intervals: each stuffed with branches and covered in enough goatskin and oil to keep them burning for hours.

The bell had stopped and there were no more shouts. Cencius (his second guard officer) was on duty with twenty men. Could they really have been taken out so quickly? Were the raiders already inside? Had to be a large, well-organised force.

As Ursus passed the fifth torch, one of the legionaries cried out.

‘Sir, look there!’

A man – a man running towards them – flashed past the next torch and was then swallowed up by the dark once more. Ursus slowed. He could hear quick steps, panting breaths.

‘Draw!’

He gripped his sword hilt tight and eased it out of the scabbard. The legionaries came up on either side of him, blocking the path.

The man spoke. ‘The Pillars—’

Ursus completed the password: ‘—of Hercules. Who’s there?’

The soldier ran up to him, sword in hand, face wet with sweat beneath his helmet. Ursus knew him well: Bradua, a decorated veteran of the Palmyran campaign – not a man to run from a fight without good reason. ‘Sir, they’re in the temple. By the time I got there, they’d already surrounded the place. There are scores of them.’

‘Cencius?’

Bradua rubbed his eyes. ‘Didn’t see him. Lot of men down, sir.’

Agorix had caught up; accompanied by another small group.

‘Everyone follow me.’

Ursus ran on once more. Past the seventh torch, then the eighth. As the trees thinned out, he could see the vast, angular bulk of the temple over to the left. Torches flickered close to the great columns, sparking off armour and blades. More lights were scattered across the courtyard and by the main gate. Ursus could hear whinnying horses and hooves on stone.

He shuttered the lantern and slowed to a walk. ‘Quiet.’

Approaching the tenth and last torch he moved to the left side of the path, well away from the light. All he heard from his legionaries was their boots scuffing the ground as they narrowed into a line behind him. Just as he reached the low wall that surrounded the temple complex, a shout rang out and the torches closest to the building began to move away. Ursus crouched behind the wall, Agorix beside him. They were close enough to hear voices now.

‘What language is that?’asked the guard officer.

‘Not sure.’

‘Palmyrans?’

‘No idea. But the bastards know what they’re doing. Covert approach, quick … and attacking during the festival – they knew we’d be a mess.’

‘I count thirty torches, sir. Even if only every other man has one, that’s sixty.’

Bradua dropped down close to them. ‘Sir, I saw a cart. Big, reinforced thing – like we’d carry artillery loads in.’

‘Just one?’

‘Yes.’

Having gathered in the middle of the courtyard, the raiders now began to move right, towards the gate.

‘How?’ said Agorix. ‘How could they have got in and out already?’

‘Because they knew what they wanted and they left the rest,’ said Ursus. ‘They’ve got the rock.’

Hearing a sudden rush of movement, he and the others shot to their feet as a figure burst out of the darkness. The man ran straight into the wall and fell over it, landing in the midst of the legionaries.

‘Is that Bolanus?’ someone asked.

The soldier was writhing around on the ground, clawing at his face. The side of his helmet had been split by a blade and the same blow had carved a line across his face. Blood welled between his fingers and his mouth puckered like a landed fish.

‘Jupiter save him,’ said one of the men as two others knelt down and tried to hold the stricken soldier still.

Agorix was gazing at the courtyard. ‘They’re on horseback, sir. ‘We’ve only half a dozen mounts, none of them ready.’

‘They’ll stay with the cart,’ reasoned Ursus. ‘The cart will be slow.’

The other men closed in around him, listening in.

‘The road curves around that old guard tower at the edge of the wood. We can cut through the trees and get ahead of them.’

From the temple came a long, piercing wail, then another and another. It was the priests, mourning the loss of the sacred object they had pledged their lives to.

Ursus watched the last of the torches pass beneath the arch of the gate.

‘Sir, we’re badly outnumbered,’ said one of the soldiers. ‘Is it really worth it for some lump of—’

Though he saw the punch coming, the legionary was unable to avoid it and Ursus’s fist struck his jaw with a dull crack. Fortunately, the centurion had no intention of doing any real damage. ‘You can lead the way, Maro.’

Maro pressed his hand against his jaw but took the lantern offered to him.

‘Turn left after the closest light, then head south-east towards the road. Go!’

‘Yes, sir.’ Maro ran back down the track.

‘Agorix, you go last. Put the torch out and take it with you.’

‘Sir.’

Ursus did a quick head count as the men departed. Eighteen, including the two trying to help Bolanus.

‘Leave him.’

Unlike Maro, the legionaries knew better than to argue.

Ursus knelt beside Bolanus, who was lying on his side, head at rest in an ever-expanding puddle of blood. He was still now, and with each breath came an agonised whimper. Ursus put a hand on his shoulder. Bolanus was a local lad; he’d put in a leave request a few days ago – asking for two weeks off to help his mother on the family farm. Ursus turned him onto his back and stood. He took a moment to aim, then slashed downward with his sword, cutting the young legionary’s throat.

‘Gods forgive me.’

It didn’t take him long to catch up with the men but once in the trees, the going became difficult. Low, dense bushes carpeted the ground and – with the canopy blocking out most of the moonlight – they had only the lantern to guide them. Keeping his steps high, Ursus powered past Agorix and the others, urging them on. ‘Stay close together. Pick up your feet.’

As he closed in on the middle of the group, a man ahead of him fell, grunting as he struck the ground. Ursus grabbed him under one arm and hauled him to his feet before charging away again. As they entered a clearing, he took the opportunity to get to the front.

Maro was still leading the way. Ursus snatched the lantern from him and altered their direction slightly: by heading further south, they would have more time to get ahead of the raiders. On he ran, holding the lantern as steady as he could to keep the light aflame. As twigs snapped under his boots and birds scattered, he looked left. He could just make out the angular silhouette of the tower: the torches of the raiders hadn’t passed it yet. Fifty paces more took him close to the road and there was still no sign of a light. He crouched next to a tree, closely followed by Bradua and Agorix.

‘Bradua, here – guide the men in.’ Ursus swapped the lantern for the torch. ‘Agorix, you’ll take five of them across to the other side of the road. I’ll halt the lead horses. As soon as they stop, try and get the mounts down, then hit the men.’

‘Yes, sir.’

As the rest of the legionaries arrived, Ursus tapped five on the shoulder in turn. ‘You’re with the guard officer.’

The men gathered around Agorix. Ursus gave the Gaul one last order. ‘Remember – mounts first. The other animals will panic and you might just block the way.’

Agorix led his squad down a grassy bank then across the road.

Ursus looked through the trees towards the tower. A dozen torches were visible now, bobbing along as the column advanced. The first riders were no more than a hundred yards away.

‘That everyone?’ he asked, turning back towards the remainder of the men.

‘Numonis fell, sir. Done his ankle.’

‘All right, listen. Agorix will strike the front. We head along the side of the column and go for the cart. If we stop it, they can’t take the rock with them. If they can’t take it, there’s no point fighting on. Hit fast, hit hard … and remember who we toasted tonight. Mars is with us.’

Though a couple nodded, most of the legionaries just stood there, trying to slow their breathing, probably fighting the urge to run. All in all, Ursus considered them a decent bunch, but there was a smattering of new recruits and some others whose only experience of fighting was mopping up Palmyran irregulars. He had little idea how they would do.

Apelles came forward. He was a bearded, brawny Thracian who had somehow managed to equip himself with both spear and shield. He offered the shield to his centurion. Ursus knew he’d have a few of his beloved throwing darts mounted close to the handle.

‘Here, sir.’

‘Thank you, Apelles. But you keep it.’

Ursus moved up to a position between two trees at the top of the bank. The noise of the horses rumbled along the paved road and he cursed as he saw that the rear of the column was still coming past the tower. Sixty? More like eighty.

Glad to see no trace of Agorix and his squad, he ordered Bradua and Maro forward. Maro was the only man wearing a cloak.

‘Take that off. We need it to hide the flames. Bradua, light the torch.’

The veteran opened the lantern shutter and carefully removed the candle. Maro held up his cloak, which was easily wide enough to prevent the light being seen from the road. Bradua crouched beside it and put the candle to the torch. The goatskin and oil took light easily and in moments the whole thing was aflame.

‘Draw swords.’

Ursus armed himself once more and peered around the closest tree. The lead trio were twenty yards away, sitting high in their saddles, the middle man carrying a lantern. The raiders were armed with swords and wore pale, long-sleeved tunics. A few were also equipped with mail and helmets, all of a rudimentary design. What he saw told Ursus absolutely nothing about who they were or where they came from. Presumably that was the idea.

He counted five more ranks of riders before he saw the cart. The vehicle seemed to fill the road and was drawn by four stout horses. All he could see in the rear was a dark shape.

‘Get ready.’

As the lead riders drew level with their position, Ursus grabbed the flaming torch from Maro and threw it into the road.

The raiders pulled up, one man already wrestling with his reins as his mount backed away from the flames.

‘Now!’

By the time Ursus reached the bottom of the bank, Agorix and his men were already on the road. The Gaul went straight for the middle horse and hacked his blade deep into the animal’s neck. As Ursus bolted along the side of the column, he glimpsed the mount rearing and the rider being thrown.

There was a strange moment of hesitation while the raiders struggled to react to what they were seeing. The second and third ranks did nothing more than watch Ursus run past them. The closest man in the fourth rank urged his horse out to block the Roman’s path but Ursus nipped up the bank and around him. He was then confronted by another horse and a spear-point coming at him.

The spear suddenly fell to the ground and the attacker slumped back in his saddle, a small metal object sticking out of his throat.

‘With you, sir!’

Apelles still hadn’t drawn his sword but already had another of the throwing darts ready. The driver of the cart was trying to control the horses and spied the Romans just before the second dart lodged itself in his chest. He dropped the reins and tried to pull it out.

Sitting to his left was a tall, broad man wearing a fine metal chest plate. The wounded driver turned to him for help but the man did no more than glance at the soldiers then drop down onto the other side of the road.

As Bradua and another legionary arrived, Ursus went for the lead horse on his side. With the column stationary, the beast had nowhere to go. Like the others, it was bucking against the reins, eyes rolling, mouth frothing. Ursus chopped four times into its throat. Chunks of flesh and hair and gouts of blood spilled noisily onto the stone. Mortally wounded, the horse fell to its knees.

As the animal stench filled his nose, Ursus looked back along the road. The rest of his men were just behind him. One was trying to pull a rider out of his saddle. Another was felled by some unseen strike.

As Ursus moved up to the cart, a spear clattered along the road, narrowly missing his feet. To his left, Apelles was flanked by Bradua and the other legionary, all three trading blows with the raiders. Ursus raised his blade, ready to cut the reins and disable the riding gear.

But he faced an unexpected danger. The driver had managed to pull the dart out of his chest and was now clutching a dagger.

As he flung himself off the bench, Ursus simply ducked. One of the driver’s boots caught his head but the rest of him crashed heavily onto the road. Ursus spun around, booted him in the side then drove his sword down into his unprotected heart. Pulling the blade free, he turned back towards the cart and peered at the closest wheel. It was as solid as any he’d seen, the wooden spokes two inches thick. His sword would barely scratch it.

He looked up at the stone; it had been covered by a sheet. While he was trying to think of another way to disable the vehicle, another spear struck its side. He checked to the right again. More of the raiders were off their horses and engaging the Romans. Only two of his men were left on their feet. They – and he – had only moments.

‘Centurion!’

Ursus turned back in time to see Bradua knocked to the ground, his head cracking against the road. His neck had almost been severed by a deep, dark wound. The other legionary was already down, lying next to the rear wheel of the cart.

Apelles fought on alone. As Ursus went to help him, the Thracian’s shield suddenly flew high into the air, landing several yards up the bank. Towering over him was the tall man from the cart; head now encased in an angular helmet – bronze like his armour. Apelles swept at his foe but the blade bounced off the chest plate. The riposte was so quick that Ursus didn’t even see the tall warrior’s weapon. Apelles staggered, then fell, hand clutching his chest.