Centurion Read Free Page B

fighting days are over.’
    ‘Tell me something I don’t know,’ Castor hissed.
    Septimus smiled briefly. ‘I have to stop this bleeding. Give me your scarf, sir.’
    Castor loosened the cloth, unwound it and passed it down. Septimus held one end behind the calf and then glanced up. ‘This is going to hurt. Ready?’
    ‘Just get on with it.’
    Septimus wound the cloth round the leg, over the wound, and then bound it tightly over the ankle and tied it off. The searing pain was like nothing Castor had ever endured before and despite the cold of the night he was sweating freely by the time Septimus finished the knot and rose to his feet.
    ‘You’ll have to prop me up on the stairs when the time comes to make our last stand.’
    Septimus nodded. ‘I’ll see to it, sir.’
    The officers stared at each other for a moment as they considered the full import of their last exchange. Now that they had accepted the inevitable Castor felt that the burden of anxiety over the fate of his command had lifted. Despite the torment of his wound, there was a calm sense of resignation in his heart, and a determination to go down fighting. Septimus glanced away, through the door, and saw the enemy standing in clusters about the site, out of range of the rocks and stones that the auxiliaries had thrown from the watchtower.
    ‘Wonder what they’ll do next?’ he mused. ‘Starve us out?’
    Castor shook his head. He had served in the region long enough in the east to know the nature of Rome’s old enemy. ‘They’ll not wait for that. There’s no honour in it.’
    ‘What then?’
    Castor shrugged. ‘We’ll know soon enough.’
    There was a moment’s silence before Septimus turned away from the entrance. ‘So what is this? A raid? The opening of a new campaign against Rome?’
    ‘Does it matter?’
    ‘I want to know the reason for my death.’
    Castor pursed his lips and considered the situation. ‘It could be a raid. Maybe they saw the construction of this fort as an act of provocation. But it’s equally possible they want to clear a path across the Euphrates for their army to cross. It could be the first move towards taking control of Palmyra.’
    Castor’s thoughts were interrupted by a shout from outside.
    ‘Romans! Hear me!’ a voice called out in Greek. ‘Parthia calls on you to lay down your arms and surrender!’
    ‘Bollocks!’ Septimus snorted.
    The man outside in the dark did not respond to the taunt and continued in an even tone. ‘My commander calls on you to surrender. If you lay down your weapons, you will be spared. He gives his word.’
    ‘Spared?’ Castor repeated softly before he shouted out his reply. ‘You will spare us and permit us to return to Palmyra?’
    There was a short pause before the voice continued. ‘Your lives will be spared, but you will be taken prisoner.’
    ‘Slaves is what we’ll be,’ Septimus growled and spat on the floor. ‘I’ll not die a fucking slave.’ He turned to Castor. ‘Sir? What should we do?’
    ‘Tell him to go to Hades.’
    Septimus smiled thinly, his teeth luminous in the moonlight. He turned to the entrance and shouted his reply. ‘If you want our weapons, come and get them!’
    Castor chuckled. ‘Hardly original, but a nice touch.’
    The officers exchanged a grin and the other men smiled nervously, until the voice called to them one last time.
    ‘So be it. Then this place will be your grave. Or rather . . . your pyre.’
    A faint glow had appeared on the far side of the construction site and as Septimus watched a small flame flared up, silhouetting the warrior crouched over his tinder box.The flame was efficiently fed so that it quickly flared up into a small blaze as men gathered round to light torches hastily gathered from the surrounding scrub. Then they approached the watchtower and as Septimus watched the first of the fire arrows was offered to a torch until the oiled rags caught alight. At once the archer drew his bow and shot at the