Simon Scarrow - The Eagles Prophecy

'Re-form lines!' the prefect bellowed. At once, the centurions and the optios relayed the orders and the marines moved into place, forming tight ranks with shields to the front, and javelins held ready.

'Those men on the wall!' Vespasian pointed up to the pirates crammed on to the ramparts either side of the breach. 'Take them down!'

The marines inside the citadel turned on the pirates above them, drew back their javelin arms and unleashed a volley of iron-tipped shafts. The pirates had been tightly packed together, and there was no time to turn and flee. Scores went down, pierced by the javelins, and they tumbled from the walls. With the danger from above lifted the column of marines poured forwards through the breach. Before they could pile into the ranks of the men already inside, Vespasian shouted the order to advance and the marines moved steadily towards the enemy sheltering behind their barricade. Those marines who still had javelins now hurled them into the dense ranks of the pirates packed into the streets beyond the barricades, then drew their swords and gripped them firmly, ready to strike.

Cato and Macro were standing to one side, with the rest of the prefect's assault squad and Vespasian forced his way through the advancing marines to rejoin them.

'Secundus! Which way?'

The imperial agent glanced round the square and pointed towards a narrow thoroughfare to the right-hand side of the square. 'There.'

Vespasian nodded. 'Right! Macro, Cato, take some men and clear that barricade.'

The two centurions trotted over to the century of marines that had just entered the citadel. Their optio, a weathered-looking veteran, was busy dressing their line, as if he was on a parade ground, and shouting abuse at a hapless youngster. 'You are a fucking disgrace! Get that chin-strap tied before I throw you to the bloody pirates!'

'Optio!' Macro called out.

The officer turned and straightened to attention, barely stirring as an arrow loosed from behind one of the barricades whipped close overhead. 'Yes, sir!'

'I need four sections, right now. Form them up in front of that barricade over there.'

'Yes, sir!' The optio turned away and shouted out a string of orders to the nearest group of men scrambling through the breach. Macro and Cato looked towards the barricade, shields raised, and inspected the enemy defences.

'How are we going to do this?' asked Cato.

'Same as ever, straight through the centre and roll right over them.'

'Ah, the master of tactics speaks.'

'Got a better idea, smart-arse?'

'No…'

With a loud clatter of nailed boots on cobbles the optio brought up his men and formed them into a tight block, shields raised and ready to go into action. Beyond them Cato could see the rest of the marines piling into the enemy barricades; a heaving mass of armoured men and weapons, while stones and lumps of wood flew overhead in both directions as the rearmost ranks of pirates and marines exchanged missiles.

Macro waited until the formation was still, and then waved his sword arm aloft to get their attention above the din of battle echoing off the buildings in the square.

'We need to clear that barricade. Go in hard! When they break go after them. No prisoners. Once that's done, you're free to help yourselves to the loot!'

The marines raised a cheer for that and then braced themselves for the next order.

'Forward!' Macro yelled, and he and Cato slipped into the front rank as the small formation tramped towards the barricade.

The pirates watched them come on with a mix of expressions. Cato noted that some men looked cold and contemptuous, some were wild-eyed and shouting and spitting with pent-up rage. A few looked just as terrified as he felt.

'Shields up!' Macro shouted, and Cato just had time to raise his when a hail of stones cracked and rattled off the shields in the front rank. But they could do little harm against the wide curved surfaces of the marines' shields, and the formation did not even slow down under the barrage. Macro called them to a halt as they reached the barricade and the stones gave way to thrusts from spears and slashes from the heavy curved blades of the pirates' swords.

'Cato! Give me a hand here.'

Macro pointed down at the base of the barricade. There was a large tool chest. A heavy brass handle protruded from the front of the chest and Macro sheathed his sword and grasped it. Cato too put his sword away and joined his friend.

'Ready?' Macro glanced at him.'One… two… heave!'

They pulled with all their strength and the wood grated on the cobbles as it began to shift.

'Come on!' Macro growled through clenched teeth. 'Pull!'

The handle suddenly sprang from the face of the wooden chest, nearly sending the two centurions sprawling on their backs. Macro recovered his balance and swore as he saw, round the edge of his shield, that a large section on the front of the chest had come away with the handle. He clenched his fist in momentary frustration and was about to look for another handhold to try, when there was a groan of protest and the lid gave way, collapsing into the chest and bringing down a section of the makeshift barricade with it.

'That's it!' Macro shouted in triumph.'Now clear it away and let's get at those bastards!'

The pirates desperately aimed blows at the Romans, but with little effect as the second rank of marines leaned forward to cover their comrades with their shields, Macro and Cato pulled away pieces of the barricade and thrust them towards the side where marines threw the wreckage back into the square. In short order, the barricade was little more than a ruin between the two sides and Macro straightened up.

'Advance!' he shouted, ripping his sword from his scabbard and stepping up on to the meal bags piled behind the chest. Cato drew his weapon and clambered up beside his friend. In front of them was a sea of hostile faces and shimmering blades. Cato threw his weight behind his shield and jumped to one side, right on top of some of the waiting enemy. He landed on a short, thick-set man stripped to the waist, his skin gleaming with oil that mixed with his sweat to create a foul musty smell that filled Cato's nostrils for an instant before the pirate collapsed under the impact and Cato thrust his sword into the man's stomach. Before the pirates could respond, more marines piled through the gap and jumped down amongst the pirates, smashing their shields into the enemies' faces and thrusting at any exposed flesh that came within reach of their short swords. Even though the pirates tried desperately to hold their ground they were no match for the weight and momentum of the heavily armed marines. Step by step they were driven back from the barricade and up the narrow street beyond. Cato found himself alongside Macro again and the veteran flashed him a grin.

'This is more like it! Fighting on solid ground again!'

'Look out!' Cato shouted as one of the pirates dropped down and aimed to swipe his sword at Macro's shins beneath his shield.

Macro dropped the shield and the blade rang as it struck the metal trim. Then the shield flew up and out as Macro slammed it into the pirate's face, knocking the man cold. He slumped on to the ground and the marine to Macro's left finished him off with a shattering cut to the skull that burst the pirate's head like a watermelon.

As more of the pirates were hacked down, their comrades began to edge away from the fight. Then those at the rear began to turn and run, dashing back into the citadel to try to find shelter amid its narrow twisting streets. The panic spread through their ranks like a plague, and moments later Macro and Cato stood side by side, breathing heavily, as they watched the last of the pirates flee.

Macro glanced round at the marines. 'Don't just stand there! Get after 'em!'