few torches and fires that still burned within the
Marmaridae’s camp. Behind him just over two hundred men from the town waited in the darkness along with Corvinus and his auxiliaries.
Upon reaching the edge of the grove he dropped to his knees behind a palm and peered around its trunk towards the slavers’ camp; all was quiet. Having satisfied himself that, apart from a
few sentries dozing by campfires, there was no one abroad, he slipped back through the dark to his waiting men.
‘They’re not expecting any company,’ he whispered, crouching down next to Magnus and Corvinus. ‘I could see about half a dozen guards, most of whom seem to be asleep,
none of them were patrolling; everyone else is in their tents.’
‘How can you be sure?’ Corvinus asked, dubious about the wisdom of the attack.
‘Because I couldn’t see them anywhere else; but you’re right, it is an assumption. However, that’s no reason not to do this thing; we outnumber them by a good fifty
men.’
‘But most of ours are townspeople with improvised weapons; they’ll be up against trained fighters.’
‘Which makes the need for speed and surprise all the more essential, Corvinus, so let’s stop talking about it and do it; unless you’d prefer that I cancel the whole thing and
tell the Governor that I was obliged to let a Roman citizen be carried off into slavery because my cavalry prefect shied away from a fight?’
‘You bastard.’
‘That’s better; now leave me the translator and take your men around to the south of the camp; Magnus and I will take the townspeople and cover this side and the east and west. Deal
with the guards around the corral as quietly as possible; once they’re dead secure the corral and signal to me here by waving one of the torches. We’ll then move in on all sides setting
fire to the tents and killing as many as we can before they wake up; after that it’ll be a hard fight. If we hear any screams before your signal we’ll charge in immediately.’
Corvinus grunted his assent.
‘And try not to kill the camels,’ Vespasian added.
‘Why not?’
‘Because we’ll need them to get home.’
Corvinus got to his feet, brushed the sand from his knees and moved off to muster his men.
‘What do you think?’ Magnus asked.
‘I think that he’ll do as he’s been ordered; he’s a good officer, he just doesn’t like me.’
‘Let’s hope that won’t cloud his judgement.’
‘Come on; let’s get our rabble army in position.’
After Vespasian had briefed the townspeople, through the translator, with orders to do nothing until they saw him go forward, they had moved into position in silence over the
loose sand. Vespasian and Magnus waited, with swords drawn, in the darkness looking out over the Marmaridae’s camp that was now surrounded by a man at every five paces. Ziri lay next to
Magnus clutching a spear. Apart from the occasional snort from one of the many hobbled camels scattered among the tents it was quiet. The sentries dozed peacefully by their dying fires.
Vespasian felt the tension of coming conflict rise within him, knotting his insides. He offered a silent prayer to Fortuna that she would preserve him from the desert’s warriors as she had
done from the desert’s elements and felt confident that it would be so. However, others would not be so fortunate and, in the dark, in the privacy of his thoughts, he could not but help
compare his actions and Ahmose’s. They had both sacrificed men for their own desires; the priest for luxury and he, Vespasian, for lust. It had cost Ahmose his life and it had made Vespasian
an enemy in Corvinus, a man whose high birth would ensure that he would one day be able to keep his promise of vengeance. Capella had better pay his dues and Flavia had better be worth the risk and
effort.
As time dragged on the tension of the wait started to play on the men’s nerves and Vespasian began to hear the odd rustle of clothing or the clink of a
Marmaridae’s camp. Behind him just over two hundred men from the town waited in the darkness along with Corvinus and his auxiliaries.
Upon reaching the edge of the grove he dropped to his knees behind a palm and peered around its trunk towards the slavers’ camp; all was quiet. Having satisfied himself that, apart from a
few sentries dozing by campfires, there was no one abroad, he slipped back through the dark to his waiting men.
‘They’re not expecting any company,’ he whispered, crouching down next to Magnus and Corvinus. ‘I could see about half a dozen guards, most of whom seem to be asleep,
none of them were patrolling; everyone else is in their tents.’
‘How can you be sure?’ Corvinus asked, dubious about the wisdom of the attack.
‘Because I couldn’t see them anywhere else; but you’re right, it is an assumption. However, that’s no reason not to do this thing; we outnumber them by a good fifty
men.’
‘But most of ours are townspeople with improvised weapons; they’ll be up against trained fighters.’
‘Which makes the need for speed and surprise all the more essential, Corvinus, so let’s stop talking about it and do it; unless you’d prefer that I cancel the whole thing and
tell the Governor that I was obliged to let a Roman citizen be carried off into slavery because my cavalry prefect shied away from a fight?’
‘You bastard.’
‘That’s better; now leave me the translator and take your men around to the south of the camp; Magnus and I will take the townspeople and cover this side and the east and west. Deal
with the guards around the corral as quietly as possible; once they’re dead secure the corral and signal to me here by waving one of the torches. We’ll then move in on all sides setting
fire to the tents and killing as many as we can before they wake up; after that it’ll be a hard fight. If we hear any screams before your signal we’ll charge in immediately.’
Corvinus grunted his assent.
‘And try not to kill the camels,’ Vespasian added.
‘Why not?’
‘Because we’ll need them to get home.’
Corvinus got to his feet, brushed the sand from his knees and moved off to muster his men.
‘What do you think?’ Magnus asked.
‘I think that he’ll do as he’s been ordered; he’s a good officer, he just doesn’t like me.’
‘Let’s hope that won’t cloud his judgement.’
‘Come on; let’s get our rabble army in position.’
After Vespasian had briefed the townspeople, through the translator, with orders to do nothing until they saw him go forward, they had moved into position in silence over the
loose sand. Vespasian and Magnus waited, with swords drawn, in the darkness looking out over the Marmaridae’s camp that was now surrounded by a man at every five paces. Ziri lay next to
Magnus clutching a spear. Apart from the occasional snort from one of the many hobbled camels scattered among the tents it was quiet. The sentries dozed peacefully by their dying fires.
Vespasian felt the tension of coming conflict rise within him, knotting his insides. He offered a silent prayer to Fortuna that she would preserve him from the desert’s warriors as she had
done from the desert’s elements and felt confident that it would be so. However, others would not be so fortunate and, in the dark, in the privacy of his thoughts, he could not but help
compare his actions and Ahmose’s. They had both sacrificed men for their own desires; the priest for luxury and he, Vespasian, for lust. It had cost Ahmose his life and it had made Vespasian
an enemy in Corvinus, a man whose high birth would ensure that he would one day be able to keep his promise of vengeance. Capella had better pay his dues and Flavia had better be worth the risk and
effort.
As time dragged on the tension of the wait started to play on the men’s nerves and Vespasian began to hear the odd rustle of clothing or the clink of a
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