Petronius glanced at them and then turned his attention back to the Alexandrians’ spokesman as the latter continued. ‘Sir, the question I asked is unanswered. What are you going to do about this renegade?’
‘The matter is in hand. Prefect Cato is leading a special task force with orders to find and destroy the renegade slave.’
‘Clearly the prefect hasn’t had much luck so far!’ a voice called from the crowd. There was an angry chorus of agreement before Petronius held up his hands and demanded that they hear him out.
‘I have utmost confidence in Prefect Cato. He is the best man for the job and it will only be a matter of days before he completes his mission.’
‘How many days?’ another merchant asked. ‘It’s already been more than a month since the trouble started. Another month will kill my business.’
There were more shouts, against a backdrop of bitter disgruntlement.
‘Quiet there!’ the prefect called out anxiously. ‘Quiet, I said! Prefect Cato will have every military resource in Alexandria made available to him in order to facilitate the capture or destruction of Ajax.’
Macro nudged his friend. ‘That’s news to me.’
‘And me.’ Cato smiled faintly. ‘Most welcome news.’
‘What else could I say?’ Petronius said irritably as he conferred with the two officers in his private quarters after the audience. ‘You heard ’em. Their mood was almost rebellious. A number of them have influential contacts in Rome. If that isn’t bad enough, the last two emperors have handed out Egyptian estates to their favourites as if they were party snacks. Even Narcissus has a few parcels of land in the delta. The trade in grain and other produce from those estates is being put in jeopardy by Ajax. Narcissus is the kind of man of influence that I’d rather not get on the wrong side of. So it’s vital that Narcissus and his friends know that I am doing all that I can to keep a lid on the tensions here in Alexandria.’
‘But you’re not going to actually give us what we need to do the job, are you, sir?’ said Macro.
‘No. I can’t. I told you, our forces are stretched thinly as it is. I can’t afford to send them on some damned wild goose chase.’
‘It wouldn’t be a wild goose chase if we had more men and more ships,’ Macro persisted. ‘We could cover the ground more quickly, and be there in overwhelming strength when we eventually find Ajax.’
‘If you find him.’
‘We’ll find him,’ Cato said firmly. ‘You have my word on it.’
‘What if he quits the delta?’ Petronius asked. ‘What if he sails north, or west? What then? You’ll be wasting time chasing shadows.’
‘He won’t leave the area. Why should he? He’s doing a great job of stirring up local feeling against Rome. He’ll stay here as long as he thinks he is undermining our interests in Egypt. Give us the fleet and we can find him and trap him in short order.’
‘Give you the fleet?’ Petronius smiled mockingly. ‘I’m already having to use the marines to supplement the city watch. Besides, every available man is needed to counter the Nubians.’
‘I need the fleet,’ Cato insisted.
Petronius breathed in sharply and briefly considered the demand. ‘I’ll give you six more ships. But only for one month. That’s as long as I can spare them.’
Cato considered the offer. Eight ships in all should be enough to deal with Ajax and his men, but the limited time was a problem. ‘One month might not be enough.’
‘That’s all you have. After that I want you and your men to join the command of the legate of the Twenty-Second at Diospolis Magna. I suggest you get moving, Prefect.’
‘
I
t’s like hunting for a grain of sand in a sack of salt,’ Macro complained as he followed Cato and Hamedes along the strip of shingle towards a handful of beached fishing boats. ‘Bloody Ajax is all but invisible.’
‘We will find him,’ Cato replied evenly. ‘Whatever it takes.’
‘It’s not whatever that matters, but whenever. The month is almost up, Cato. If we don’t find him in the next five days we will have to give up the search.’
‘I am well aware of that, Centurion.’
Macro pressed his lips together in a thin line. The failure to find Ajax had tested his friend sorely, and Cato had recently developed a strategy of referring to Macro’s rank when he grew weary of discussion or did not want to be contradicted. So they continued in silence walking steadily down the beach towards the fishermen, who were absorbed in the task of plucking the writhing silver fish from their nets and tossing them into baskets. Hamedes went first, ready to speak to the natives in their own tongue and reassure them that the three of them posed no threat. The priest had willingly volunteered to join the hunt when Cato had asked him to act as their guide and translator. The temple at Keirkut had been his life. Recruited to the priesthood when barely a child, it was the only family he had ever known and the desire for revenge burned in his veins.
Cato and Macro wore only their tunics and belts, with the dagger scabbards tucked out of sight behind their backs. Hamedes wore the simple flowing robe of the fellahin. The fishing boats had been sighted by one of the skiffs that Cato had sent in to patrol the Mendesian mouth of the Nile. The rest of the flotilla lay in a shallow cove by the sea. Cato and the others had landed out of sight of the fishermen and removed their armour before approaching them.
Due to the predations of Ajax, it had been difficult to gather any intelligence from the smaller Egyptian settlements along the coast. At the first sight of a Roman sail, or men in Roman uniform, the villagers had simply fled. The only news that Cato had gleaned from the locals had come from chance interceptions of the few vessels that had dared to put to sea, and the handful of times when they had been able to approach people without causing them to run and hide, as now.
‘They’ve seen us,’ Macro muttered as one of the fishermen looked up when they had closed to within a hundred paces. At once the man called out to his friends and they dropped their nets and snatched up their clubs and gutting knives. They were torn between abandoning their catch and running, or staying to confront the three men approaching them. There were twelve of them, Macro counted, odds of four to one, if there was any trouble. The fishermen were thin and sinewy and were not professional fighters. Even so, the overwhelming advantage in numbers lent them sufficient courage to stand their ground as they warily watched the three men making their way towards them.
‘Tell them we mean no harm,’ Cato said to Hamedes. ‘We want to buy their catch, and talk.’
Hamedes nodded and called out a light-hearted greeting. The nearest of the fishermen replied sharply, holding out his hand, clearly commanding them to stop. There followed a brief exchange before Hamedes spoke softly to Cato. ‘I’ve told them who we are. The one speaking for them is the headman of their village. He asks if we are alone. I said we are.’
Cato nodded uneasily and hoped that the marines he had left back at the skiff did as they were told and kept out of sight. ‘Ask him if he has seen any other Romans recently.’
There was a lengthy exchange in which the headman jabbed his hand downriver. A moment later the priest turned back to Cato. ‘A warship entered the mouth of the river several days ago. It stayed for the night and left the next morning.’
‘Which direction did it take?’
‘West.’
‘Towards us?’ Macro frowned. ‘We never saw it.’
‘It must have slipped past us in the dark,’ said Cato. ‘Or they sighted us first and turned back, or went and hid along the coast. Assuming it was Ajax, that is.’ He reflected briefly. ‘It has to be him. We’re supposed to be the only naval forces operating along the delta.’
Cato gestured towards the fishing boats, small craft made from bundles of reeds, tied together with ropes. ‘Ask him if we can buy some of their catch.’
Hamedes translated and the other man cautiously beckoned them closer. Cato kept his hands out, where they could be seen clearly, and walked towards them. The dark eyes of the fishermen watched him closely and they drew back into a loose semi-circle as Cato and his companions approached the baskets. Scores of fish flipped about inside, and others opened and closed their bony mouths, as if gasping. More fish struggled in the nets. Cato gestured to them.
‘Tell him we didn’t intend to interrupt their work. They can continue, while we talk.’
With suspicious glances at their visitors, the fishermen went back to expertly plucking the catch from the folds of their nets while the headman conversed with Hamedes.
‘He asks how much we wish to buy.’
‘One basket will do.’ Cato took the purse off his belt and took out some of the silver coins that Petronius had issued to the flotilla to pay for supplies. ‘Here, ten obols.’
The headman’s eyes momentarily lit up and then his face formed a dismissive expression.
‘He says twenty. He has many mouths to feed in his village. If he sells his catch, some will go hungry tonight.’
‘Bloody haggling,’ Macro growled.
‘Twelve,’ Cato responded to Hamedes. ‘It’s a fair price. Tell him.’
The headman shook his head.
‘Fifteen. He says he’s robbing himself. But he can see that you are a good man, so he makes this price just for you.’
‘Fifteen obols,’ Macro puffed irritably. ‘Does he think we’re complete fools?’
‘Shhh,’ Cato hissed. ‘Fifteen it is.’
He counted out the coins and handed them over. The headman palmed them quickly and shoved them into a dirty linen haversack on the nearest of the boats.
‘Tell him there’s another five obols for him if he can tell us if he has heard anything about the location of the men who have been raiding the coast. Ask him if he has any idea where they might be hiding.’
The headman thought for a moment before responding.
‘He says he will tell you what he knows if you pay him ten obols.’
‘Cheeky bloody sod!’ Macro chuckled. ‘Cato, do you want me to persuade him to offer us a discount?’
‘No. We need all the goodwill we can get. Let’s not do Ajax’s work for him, all right, Centurion?’
‘Yes, sir.’
Cato handed over some more coins and waited for Hamedes to interpret.
‘He says that a village was attacked on the next tributary to the west two days ago. Most of the villagers managed to escape, and fled to his village. That’s why there are many more mouths to feed.’
‘We must have missed something,’ said Macro. ‘Perhaps he didn’t slip by us after all. Sir, we should turn back and search to the west.’
Cato was silent for a moment. His ships had scoured the coastline between Alexandria and here at the Mendesian mouth of the Nile. Every bay and inlet had been explored. Aside from the occasional evidence of one of Ajax’s earlier raids, there had been no trace of the fugitives. It was possible that they had scuttled their ship and ventured deeper into the delta but Cato felt convinced that his enemy would not risk abandoning the warship, his only means of escape to sea. If the headman’s information was accurate, that left two possibilities. Either Ajax had abandoned the delta and sailed north across the Mediterranean, or he had concealed his ship well enough to escape the eyes of Cato’s flotilla.
‘We’d better get back to the ships. Hamedes, give him my thanks, and tell him that we will not rest until we have destroyed Ajax. Then his people will be free to live in peace.’
The headman shrugged. ‘He says that between the danger of Ajax and the burden of Roman taxes, what peace can a man hope for? There is no freedom. Not for the fellahin.’
‘Not much we can do about that,’ Macro said dismissively. ‘Here, give me a hand with this basket.’
Hamedes made their farewells and took up the woven handle on one side of the basket while Macro took the other. Then, with Cato following, deep in thought, they made their way back down the narrow beach towards the point where the skiff and the marines lay out of sight.
‘At least we’ll have fresh meat on the menu tonight,’ Macro mused happily as he glanced at the fish.
‘They’ll make good eating,’ Hamedes grunted as he adjusted his grip.
‘They’d better. I’d wager they’re about the most expensive fish ever caught in Egypt,’ Macro concluded ruefully.
That night, the crew of
Sobek
ate fried Nile carp, while the men of the other ships drawn up on the beach sullenly chewed on their hard tack. Cato and Macro were eating from their mess tins by the light of a cheery blaze of palm logs. Hamedes sat cross-legged on the far side of the fire, reading a prayer scroll he had borrowed from a temple in Alexandria. The fish, roasted over the fire, had been delicious, Macro reflected happily as he lowered his mess tin and licked his fingers. He glanced at Cato, and saw his face in profile, washed in a warm red glow, in deep concentration. Macro patted his chest and burped. ‘Excuse me.’
‘Hmmm?’ Cato looked round absently.
‘Ah, so you are still with us.’
‘Yes. Of course.’ Cato lowered his mess tin, and Macro saw that a good half of the fish remained. He gestured towards it. ‘You finished with that?’
Cato nodded.
‘Then do you mind if I, er . . .’
‘Help yourself.’
Macro nodded his thanks and tucked in.
‘Something’s not right about what we were told by those fishermen, ’ Cato announced quietly. ‘I’m certain we searched the coast thoroughly, and we didn’t find any trace of Ajax, or the ship.’
‘Obviously we didn’t look hard enough,’ said Macro, between mouthfuls.
‘It’s possible. But if I was in Ajax’s position, I would pick a base as far to the east of Alexandria as possible, away from the fleet.’
‘If you were Ajax, surely you would want to be in striking distance of the main shipping lanes?’
‘I’d not want to be within striking range of Alexandria. I’d want to be somewhere well off the main routes, away from settlements and with a clear escape route to sea if I needed to get out quickly. Somewhere well to the east of Alexandria. So we’re not going back on our tracks tomorrow. We’ll continue to the east.’
Macro swallowed quickly and set the mess tin down. ‘Why? You heard them today. The most recent attack was to the west, and that’s where they saw that ship heading.’