The Gladiator

'Oh, shit,' Macro muttered. It was as he had feared, and for an instant a spark of anger flared in his breast.' Damn Sempronius...'

For an instant he thought of leading them away from Julia and her escort. But there was nowhere to go. The slope on either side was too steep to ride on. He could only continue forwards, or turn back in the direction he had just come from. It took only a brief moment's thought for Macro to realise there was only one course of action. He had to ride back and warn the others, who would then have to spur their horses on and try to outrun their pursuers. Pulling savagely on his reins, he wheeled his horse round, and dug his heels in and galloped back up the track. Behind him he could hear the pounding of hooves and the cries of his pursuers.

He leaned forward, whipping the loose ends of the reins round the horse's neck while he shouted harsh encouragement and gripped hard with his thighs. Reaching the top of the slope, he rounded the rock again, dropped into the river bed and galloped along, spraying pebbles and loose stones into the air. He could see the way ahead of him for another few hundred paces before the route curved round a slope, and there was no sign of the escorts. He estimated that he had less than a quarter of a mile's start on the men behind him, and as he approached the bend their cries and the pounding of hooves echoed off the rocky slopes on either side. As the horse scrabbled round the bend, he saw Julia and the others a short distance ahead. The rearmost auxiliary turned in the saddle and looked back. As soon as he saw Macro, he called out and the escorts halted. Julia had turned her horse and was surprised and anxious to see Macro hurtling towards them.

'Macro! What's the matter?'

'We've got company!' he shouted as he rode up, reining in harshly. 'We must go, now! Follow me!' He spurred his horse on again, riding at the head of the line, following the river bed as it began to twist and turn more frequently as it led up into the mountains. He kept glancing back to make sure that Julia was keeping up, and saw her leaning forward as she rode along with the rest of the men, her expression one of determined concentration.

The sound of hooves and the occasional shouts of the pursuers filled the still air. Above, the craggy skyline was illuminated by the first rays of the rising sun, but down in the river bed it was still gloomy and chilly.

As they turned yet another corner, the route split into two paths, both seeming to continue up in the direction of the ridge ahead.

Macro halted the column, desperately sizing up the choice. The path to the right was narrow and sloped gently. The other route was wider and the incline more pronounced. Macro hoped that it might reach the crest more quickly and raised his arm.

'That way!'

They charged into the left fork and urged the horses up the slope, the leading mounts spraying dust and pebbles into the faces of those behind. Macro stayed at the head of the column, keeping just in front of Julia. On either side the slopes be came steeper until they were in a ravine. Then, as they galloped round another bend, the path ended in a sheer cliff, forcing them to come to an abrupt stop. The snorting of the horses and the scraping of their hooves filled the air. Macro stared at the cliff, heart pounding.

'Fuck!' His spare hand balled into a fist and he struck his thigh.

'Fuck!'

'Macro.' Julia looked at him, afraid. 'What do we do?'

Macro turned round to face the escorts. 'Swords out! We're going to have to cut our way through!'

Some of the men briefly stared at him in surprise until the optio called out, ' You heard the prefect! Swords out! About face!'

Macro pointed to the nearest of the auxiliaries. 'Stay with the lady. If you see a chance to get her away during the fight, do it. Head for Cnossos.'

'Yes, sir.'

Macro edged his horse through to the front and raised his sword.

'Let's go!'

They spurred their mounts, thundering back down the ravine.

Ahead of them the sounds of the pursuers were clearly audible, harsh and distorted as they echoed off the rock face. The two sides were suddenly up oneach other as they met on a bend. Horse thudded into horse and the riders desperately held on before they hacked at their opponents. Macro and his men were equipped with the standard short swords, while the enemy carried a mixture of weapons: short swords as well as longer blades, the lethal crooked falcatas and some spears that were little use in the tight press of horseflesh and men in the confined space. The air was filled with the scrape of blades, wild snorts and whinnies, grunts as men struck blows, and cries of pain as they landed. The dust on the floor of the ravine swirled in clouds about the men locked in conflict.