The Legion by Simon Scarrow Read Free Book Online

governor of Egypt to grudgingly provide the necessary men and ships to defeat Ajax.

    Cato picked up his helmet, took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, then turned to climb back on to the deck, where he could complete his dress without having to crouch down to avoid crushing the crest of his helmet. As he fastened the straps under his chin, Cato watched the trierarch and his men complete the final stage of their approach to the jetty. Mooring cables were tossed ashore to waiting sailors and the
Sobek
was eased into position, creaking up against the woven mass of reed fenders.

    Cato turned to the trierarch. ‘I want you to go ashore and find the fleet’s quartermaster. I want both ships resupplied as soon as possible. There will be no time for any shore leave for the crews. I intend to put back to sea the moment I have reported to the governor and fresh supplies are on board.’

    The trierarch puffed his cheeks and responded in an undertone. ‘Sir, the men are exhausted. They’ve not seen their families for months. A day or two ashore will put heart back into ’em.’

    ‘They are to remain on the ship,’ Cato said firmly. ‘Any man who attempts to go ashore will be treated as a deserter. Is that understood?’

    ‘Yes, sir.’

    ‘Good.’ Cato turned away and saw that the
Ibis
was mooring directly astern. The gangway was already run out and Macro scrambled on to the jetty and made his way alongside the
Sobek
to wait for Cato.

    ‘Remember what I said,’ Cato warned the trierarch, and then turned away to go ashore. As soon as he stepped on to the paved surface, it seemed to Cato that the land was shifting unsteadily beneath his boots. He struggled to adjust his sense of balance and Macro winked at him.

    ‘Now that is a strange feeling.’

    ‘Quite,’ Cato agreed. ‘Come on.’

    They set off along the jetty, the heat beating off the stones beneath them. Ahead, at the gate leading from the jetty towards the palace buildings, a party of legionaries stood waiting, a centurion standing in front of them, vine cane held across his thighs as he stood with his feet apart.

    ‘Didn’t take long to send out a reception committee,’ Macro remarked. ‘Someone was quick off the mark in calling out an honour guard.’

    ‘Yes.’ Cato frowned. ‘But how could they know?’

    ‘Perhaps you’re not the only one with good eyesight,’ Macro suggested mildly. ‘Still, full marks to the officer in charge of the watch.’

    They continued, as steadily and with as much dignity as their sea legs allowed, towards the waiting soldiers. As they approached the gate, the centurion stepped forward and raised his right hand in a salute.

    ‘Are you Prefect Quintus Licinius Cato, sir?’

    ‘Yes.’

    ‘And you, Centurion Lucius Cornelius Macro?’

    Macro nodded. ‘I take it you’re here to escort us to your commander?’

    The centurion looked mildly surprised.

    Cato shook his head. ‘There’s no time for formalities. I have to see the governor, at once.’

    ‘Formalities?’ The centurion gestured to his waiting men. ‘I think you misunderstand, sir. We’ve not been sent to greet you. I’ve been ordered to place you under arrest. Both of you.’

    ‘Arrest?’ Macro glared. ‘What the bloody hell are you talking about. Arrest?’

    ‘Wait!’ Cato held up his hand. ‘Whose order is this?’

    ‘Comes straight from the governor, sir. Soon as he had word that the ships were entering the harbour. You’re to be taken to the watchroom and held there until further orders are issued. If you’ll follow me, sir?’

    ‘Why?’ Cato stood his ground. ‘What are the charges?’

    The centurion stared at them. ‘I should have thought that’s obvious, sir. Murder, and piracy.’

CHAPTER FOUR

    T hey were left alone in the watchroom. The door remained open and four sentries stood guard outside. The room itself was well-proportioned with high ceilings and ventilated by large windows high up on the walls. The