The Gladiator

'I turned back,' Centurion Micon confessed. 'What else could I do? I called what was left of my men to me and we rode back through the column the way we had come. Only the slaves had closed that off, throwing abatis across the track. Some of our men tried to clear them away, but they had slingers on either flank and our men went down like flies. But they opened a gap, and I charged my men through it.' Micon glanced at the other officers furtively. 'We went after the slingers, to give the others a chance to clear the rest of the barricade away and make good their escape. But that's when the spearmen came up out of the ground. They'd been lying down behind the slingers, and as soon as we charged up, the slingers melted away and we rode straight on to their pikes. I turned away, after the last of my men was cut down, and rode back down the track towards the plain, breaking through a handful of slaves covering the track. I didn't stop until I had put the best part of a mile between us. Then when I did rein in, I looked back and saw the flames glowing in the ravine. I can still hear the cries and screams of our men echoing off the rocks. The slave spearmen formed up at the edge of the ravine, and slaughtered every one of our men caught in their trap.'

Centurion Micon lowered his head.' The column didn't stand a chance, sir. I didn't know what to do... Charge back into the fight, or do my duty and report back to you.'

'So you decided to save your skin,' Macro snorted. 'Instead of going to the aid of your comrades. Typical bloody auxiliary.'

Cato leaned forward. 'There was nothing Centurion Micon could do.'

'He could have died like a soldier, and not run like a bloody whipped cur and abandoned his mates.'

'Then who would have been left to make his report to us?'

Macro sucked a breath in through his teeth. In the legions, it was a dyed-in-the-wool tradition that centurions never gave an inch in battle. Clearly a different standard applied in the auxiliary cohorts.

'Well, surely he could have found some one to ride back and break the news.'

Sempronius rapped his hand on the desk.' Enough! This is not getting us anywhere. The question is what do we do now? This defeat has changed everything at a stroke. Marcellus had the best of our men, and now he's thrown them away. All we have left are a few small detachments on the north of the island, the Tenth Macedonian, and the cohort at Matala. What's that? Six hundred men at most.'

Sempronius shook his head.' How the hell could these wretched slaves have done this to us? How could they have defeated trained soldiers? I underestimated the slaves, and this gladiator who is leading them.'

Cato kept his mouth shut and fought back a surge of anger and indignation. It was the senator's responsibility for not taking the slave threat seriously enough. Cato, and Macro to a lesser extent, had both been aware of the dangers, but their concerns had been dismissed. It was tempting to exact some recognition of who should bear the blame, but now was not the time. Any bitter divisions amongst those left in charge of the province would only make their perilous situation worse.

'So,' Sempronius continued, looking at Macro and Cato, 'you're the ones with military experience. What should we do?'

'What can we do?' Macro answered coldly. 'It seems we're outnumbered, outwitted and we've been given a good kicking. Best thing to do is send for help and hold out here until it arrives.'

Sempronius did not appear to like what he had heard and turned to Cato. 'And what do you think?'

'Macro's right, sir. With so few men, we have no choice. It would be madness to send what's left against the slaves. Gortyna must be defended.'

'Defended?' Sempronius raised his eyebrows.' How? There must be twenty or thirty breaches in the walls where the earthquake shook them down.'

'That's true enough, sir. But we have to repair them before the slaves take it into their heads to march on Gortyna.'

'Do you really think they will?'

'I would, if I was in their place. Now they have us at their mercy, they can make their demands, or threaten to wipe us out.'

'Then we have to fix the walls, at once.'

Macro shook his head. 'That's not possible, sir. The damage is too great. Even if we set every man, woman and child to work repairing the breaches, it would take us too many days to do it.'

Cato thought a moment.' Then we must abandon Gortyna. We have to bring everyone up here on to the acropolis.'

'Is there room for everyone?' asked Sempronius. 'There are over fifteen thousand people out there. The conditions would be appalling.'

Cato looked at him directly. 'They either come up here, or take their chances with the slaves.'

'What about Matala?' Macro interrupted. 'We could send some of them there. If they left now, they could reach the port before this slave army moves in from the east.'