The Gladiator

Macro watched her for a moment and then turned to help the senator to his feet.

'Thanks,' Sempronius muttered. 'Better see to the girl, Jesmiah.'

Macro nodded and looked down at the maidservant. She sat slumped against the foot of the mast, her head flopping loosely as the ship wallowed heavily on the swell. He knelt down and raised her chin tenderly. The girl's eyes stared blankly into the mid-distance.

Then he saw the dark bruising that had begun to appear on the nape of her neck, visible even in the failing light. He lowered her chin and stood up with a heavy heart. 'She's had it. Broken neck.'

Sempronius whispered, 'Poor devil.'

'Dead?' Julia looked round. 'She can't be. She was tied down beside me.'

'She's gone, miss, ' Macro said gently. 'Something must have hit her when the wave struck. A loose block, part of the mast. Could have been anything.'

Julia crouched down in front of her maid and grasped her shoulders. 'Jesmiah! Wake up. Wake up I tell you! I order you to wake up.' She shook the shoulders violently and the dead girl's head wobbled obscenely. Macro knelt down at her side and took her hands in his. 'Miss, she's gone. She can't hear you any more. There's nothing you can dofor her.' He paused and took a breath to calm his own emotions. 'And nothing for Cato, neither.'

Julia looked at him angrily, and then her features crumpled and she was racked by a deep sob as she clasped her hands to her face.

Macro hesitantly put an arm round her and tried to think of some words to comfort her. But none came and they sat there as the dusk thickened about the ship. Now that the wave had passed on down the coast, the sea gradually settled into a calm, gentle swell.

At length Macro rose to his feet and tugged the sleeve of Sempronius's tunic.

'You'd better take care of her, sir.'

'What?' The senator frowned for a moment, still dazed by the wave, and the fact that he was still alive. Then he looked down at his daughter and nodded. 'Yes, you're right. I'll look after her. What now, Macro?'

'Sir?'

'What are we going to do now?'

Macro scratched his chin. 'Try to keep the ship afloat for the night, I guess. Have to see where things lie in the morning.'

'Is that it?'

Macro took a deep breath. 'I'm no bloody sailor, sir. I'm a soldier.

But I'll do what I can. All right?'

As the senator sat down and put his arm round his daughter, Macro straightened his back and called out across the deck.' On your feet, your dozy bastards! Over here, on me, sharpish. We've got a bloody ship to save!'

As the figures shambled towards him out of the gloom, Macro glanced over them, still hoping to see Cato emerge from the shadows, alive and well. But he was nowhere to be seen amongst the scared and stunned expressions of the survivors who clustered around the stump of the mast.

CHAPTER THREE

Your captain's gone,' Macro announced. 'And the man on the tiller. So who is next in the chain of command?'

The crew looked at each other for a moment before an older man shuffled forward. 'That'd be me, sir. The first mate.'

'Can you work the ship?'

'I suppose so, sir. I share watch duties with the captain. Well at least I did, until...'

The man gestured towards the stern and shrugged his shoulders.

Macro could see that he was still in a state of shock and could not yet be counted on to meet the challenge.

'Right then, I'll take charge for now. Once the ship is seaworthy again you will take over as captain. Agreed?'

The mate gave a resigned shrug. Macro looked round the deck as a small wave sent spray bursting over the low side of the waterlogged ship. 'First thing we do is lighten the ship. I want all the passengers and crew to start jettisoning the cargo. Once we're riding higher in the water we can begin to bail out.'

'Sir, what cargo should we begin with?' asked the mate.

'Whatever's closest to hand. Now open the deck hatch and get on with it.'

The timbers of the hatch had splintered as the cargo tumbled around when the ship had rolled over. Once the ties had been undone, Macro and the others wrenched the battered planks away and threw them over the side of the Horus. The last light of the day was fading fast as Macro leaned over the coaming and stared down into the hold. Whatever order there might have been in the loading of the cargo, there was no sign of it in the jumbled heap of broken amphorae, sacks of grain and bales of material that filled the hold. Sea water sloshed about below.

'Right then, let's get to work,' Macro ordered. 'Take what comes to hand and get it over the side.' He pointed at the nearest of the crew. 'You four, into the hold. The rest of you take what they pass up and throw it overboard.'

The crewmen swung their legs over the side of the hatch coaming and warily eased themselves down into the hold, bracing their feet carefully on the jumbled cargo. Macro spotted some small wooden chests near the top of the pile. 'We'll have those first.'