Centurion by Simon Scarrow Read Free Book Online Page B

staff towards the hills to the east. Cato turned and scanned the near horizon of rocky slopes studded with clusters of cedar trees. Then something flashed in a shallow ravine leading down towards Antioch. He squinted and raised a hand to shade his eyes as he tried to make out more detail. A column of tiny figures on horseback was emerging from the mouth of the ravine.The optio strode over to join him and both men stared into the distance as the relentless dull thuds of the training continued behind them.
    ‘Who in Hades are they?’ the optio muttered.
    Cato shook his head. ‘No way of telling just yet. Could be a caravan from Chalcis, Beroea, or perhaps even Palmyra.’
    ‘Caravan? I don’t think so, sir. I can’t make out any camels.’
    ‘That’s true.’ Cato stared as the distant party of horsemen continued to emerge from the ravine until at least a hundred men had appeared. As sunlight glittered off weapons and armour he felt the first icy trace of fear tingle down the back of his neck. Lowering his hand, he quietly gave his orders to the optio. ‘Get the men back into the camp and call out our cavalry. I want them out here ready for action. Send word to the general that we’ve sighted a column of horsemen to the east.’
    ‘Who shall I say they are?’
    Cato shrugged. ‘No way to be sure just yet. But there’s no point in taking any chances. Now go.’
    The optio saluted and then turned away, bellowing orders to the auxiliaries to cease their weapons drill and form up. The men wearily tramped into position and when all was ready the small column marched across the parade ground towards the camp gate, leaving Cato to watch the distant horsemen. By the time the last rider had emerged from the ravine he estimated that there must be at least two hundred of them. And at their head the thin red and gold strip of a banner flickered lazily in the shimmering air. The horsemen continued their measured approach towards Antioch, and the army camp sprawled across the landscape before the city’s walls. This was no attempt to surprise any unwary Roman patrols, Cato reasoned. The horsemen fully intended to be seen.
    From inside the camp there was the shrill blast of notes from a bucina and a short while later the first of the Second Illyrian’s mounted squadrons trotted out of the gate and formed up in two lines at the edge of the parade ground, waiting for the men of the other three squadrons to take up position on their right. As the last of the cavalrymen edged his beast into line and the cohort’s mounted contingent tightened their grasp of their spears as they scrutinised the distant horsemen, a small party of staff officers emerged from the gates of the city and galloped along the track towards Cato and his men. Cato instantly identified the flamboyant red crest of the leading figure and felt some small comfort that the governor of Syria would take charge of the situation. The party of officers drew up in a flurry of dust and small stones and Cato saw that Macro and the legate of the Tenth were riding with the governor and his staff. Longinus thrust his arm out towards Cato.
    ‘Centurion! Report.’
    ‘It’s as you can see, sir.’ Cato nodded towards the approaching column. ‘They’re armed, but they’ve made no hostile moves yet.’
    Longinus stared at the riders for a moment. The distant column had halted and formed a line across the track leading back into the ravine, and now a small party of horsemen, surrounding the standard Cato had seen earlier, detached themselves from the main body and galloped across the flat expanse of land between the hills and the camp. As they drew closer the dull, flat blasts of a horn carried across to the Romans.
    Longinus turned to Legate Amatius on the horse beside him. ‘Seems someone wants a truce.’
    ‘Truce?’ Amatius shook his head in wonder. ‘But who the hell are they?’
    Cato stared at the approaching riders, no more than half a mile away now. The dust