M. Scott: The Eagle of the Twelfth

‘Their packs look as if they weigh heavy,’ I said. ‘It won’t be easy climbing with those on.’ I tried to imagine making the last crab-crawl across the rock with a pack on my back the weight of a sheep and shuddered at the thought.

‘There are weapons on top,’ Pantera answered, from behind my right shoulder. ‘You can see the ridges of sword blades in their sheaths.’ He took a step back into the gloom. ‘This cave has two openings about twenty paces back that lead deeper into the mountain. There may be men through either of them, but the mouths of both are silent. If Nicodemus and his group come up to here, we can hide in one and hope they take the other.’

‘And if they don’t?’ Horgias asked.

Pantera’s grin was the only part of him we could see. ‘If they don’t, then we fight.’ He drew a broad-bladed knife from one forearm and held it up, mirror to our eyes. ‘If they bring a rope, try to tie it to the ring. It’ll make getting down a great deal easier afterwards.’

We lay on our bellies on the cold cave floor and listened to the Hebrews’ progress.

They climbed more slowly than we had done, pausing often for rest and water. When they reached the rock face, they dropped their packs, drew rope from each one and tied them together in pairs, attaching the long line to the waist of each second man.

On the rock itself, they followed the route we had done, so that the first one was at the lip of our cave as the sun touched it.

We had backed away before they began, and found the two openings Pantera had described. ‘No white birds here,’ he said softly. ‘Do we have any reason to choose one or the other?’

‘There’s more of a draught from the left hand one,’ I said. ‘If I were going somewhere, I’d choose that way. I say we hide in the one to the right.’ The others did as I bid; today, I was the god-marked wayfinder.

We lay together, shoulder to shoulder, that each might know where the others were. Dark held us like a blanket, still and dense and tight, warmer than the air outside, and itbrought us the Hebrews’ voices long before they reached us.

Nicodemus of the bronzed hair was first into the cave. He stepped over the lip and sank down, speaking aloud prayers to his god. The rope tied to his waist sprang tight as he finished and he leaned back so that Manasseh, who was second, might climb up more easily after him. Between them, they hauled up all eight packs, and then the remaining six men swarmed up the ropes like rats on to a ship.

We could see them easily against the light of the cave mouth, and so we had warning when Nicodemus produced a flint and tinder from his pack and began to spark a light, buzzing all the while in his native Aramaic, which sounded to my ears ever more like a flight of bees trapped in a box.

I felt Pantera flinch beside me before the first strike took light. ‘They found our horses.’ His voice in my ear, soft as death. ‘Tell Horgias we have to move back.’

As snakes, we writhed backwards, soundless, or as near to it as living men can be. The tunnel curved along its length and there came a point when we could see the light of the spark and the shadows it cast, but only against one wall, and knew we were safe from the men in front. I was about to stand up when Horgias caught my arm and dragged me round. ‘Light!’ he hissed in my ear. ‘Men behind!’

I turned, and followed where he led, to another bend, and there was the shine of strong light from many torches, with shadows that barely flickered. And in those shadows were men seated and standing, men leaning on spears, or against the wall.

And something that was not a man, something that made my head spin and my heart burst wide in my chest.

‘ The Eagle! ’ I nearly said it aloud. Pantera reached past me to catch Horgias in the moment before he launched forward.

‘ Not yet! ’ The words were holes breathed into the silence. ‘They are too many. We have to hide.’

‘Where?’

‘Back.’ I tugged at them both. ‘There’s a draught behind us.’

And so we hid again, writhing backwards into a fissure barely wide enough to take a man, which grew progressively lower as we squeezed inside.

Without thought or comment, I went first because I had found it, Horgias next because Pantera was herding him away from the Eagle as a leopard herds a stag, and Pantera last, as the cork in our bottle, holding us in and the Hebrews out.

I crouched in the sweating dark, and peered past both of them as the growing lights from outside merged with those from ahead that had moved to meet them, and then grew dimmer as men set lamps and torches down on the cavern floor to greet each other.

In near dark, I listened to the shouted names, to the sounds of men embracing, to the murmurs of thanks given to their god, all the same as when the legions met.

They spoke briefly and with vehemence, and through the crook of Pantera’s elbow I saw Nicodemus spit to emphasize the end of one short, sharp comment. The men he had met looked around them, as if danger might come from the dark. I felt Pantera press himself ever backwards and dip his head, that the shine of his eyes might not betray us. I held my breath and felt my bladder clench and renewed my grip on my knife and tried to move my arm from where it was trapped against the rock, and failed.

From some distance, someone called Nicodemus’ name. The word ricocheted around the caves and came to rest in a dozen places. There was a shout of laughter, and some animated chatter and the whole small mob moved back away from us into the cave where the Eagle was kept, leaving us in almost-darkness and almost-silence.

A long time later, Pantera eased his way forward. Horgiasand I followed, easing the cramp out of our knees, our elbows, our necks. At length, we stood in the cave and watched the shadows and barely dared to move.

‘How many?’ Horgias asked.

‘Sixteen.’ Pantera shook his head. ‘Too many for us to take.’

‘But we don’t need to take them,’ I said. ‘We only need to take the Eagle.’

In the near-dark, I saw Horgias smile.

We drew lots. We argued over the result — silently, in mime, with grimaces for words. We drew lots a second time with different results and did not accept them this time either. We stood in the dark and not one of us wanted to leave the other two and be the hare that drew the Hebrew hounds from their lair.

In the end, in the compressed whisper that was all we dared manage, Horgias said, ‘Demalion and I are of the Twelfth. The Eagle was ours to lose and ours to take back. You can make convincing noise for three of us and have a chance to get away. If we don’t come out, you can tell Vespasian that the Twelfth is dead, and it will be true.’

Pantera closed his eyes. When he opened them, he was a changed man, shorn of the irony he held about him like a shield. He nodded to us both and it was as heavy as a salute. ‘If you don’t come out,’ he said, ‘make sure you’re dead. Eleazir can keep a man alive longer and in greater pain than either of you wants to think about.’

There was no more talking then. We drank from our flasks together, as men sharing the last wine, then Pantera took a few moments to check his knives while Horgias and I rolled our shoulders and eased our joints, the better to run when we had to.

Pantera said, ‘They’ve left the rope tied over the lip to get down with. Remember it’s there if you need to leave in a hurry.’I felt the weight of his hand one final time on my shoulder and then he was gone, a black shape lost in the black cave.

Left alone, Horgias and I backed into the fissure again to sit tight in the dark with our heads down. The waiting was worse than it had been before. We knew how many we faced now and Pantera’s last words, well meant as they were, repeated in an endless echo in the ears of my mind.