Centurion Read Online Free PDF Page B

by a dark film that dripped from the point. On the ground the second man had risen up on his elbow while his other hand clutched at his side. He gasped for breath and winced in agony.
    ‘Fuck . . . Oh, shit it hurts . . . Bastard’s stuck me.’
    He glared at the legionary for an instant, then groaned in pain and slumped back on the ground in the wan glow of the lamp overhead.
    ‘I know him,’ Cato said softly. ‘He’s one of ours. Caius Menathus, from one of the cavalry squadrons.’ He knelt down beside the man and felt for the wound.The auxiliary’s tunic was sodden with the warm gush of blood when the knife had been withdrawn and Cato glanced up at the men clustered round.
    ‘Get back!’ he ordered. ‘Give me some room!’
    Cato had left his vine cane at the camp, and his youth caused some of the veterans to hesitate to obey his command. But the men from the Second Illyrian, Menathus’ companions, recognised their officer and drew back at once. After a brief moment the others followed suit and Cato turned again to the injured man. The tear in the cloth was small but the blood was flowing freely, and Cato quickly pulled the tunic up to expose the red-smeared flesh of the man’s torso. A faintly puckered wound, like a small mouth, glistened in the glow of the lamp and disgorged a steady pulse of blood. Cato clamped his hand over the wound and pressed hard as he glanced up at the nearest men.
    ‘Get a board of wood, something to carry him on, now! And you, run back to the camp and get hold of a surgeon and send him to the hospital. He’s to be ready for us the moment this man arrives. Tell him Menathus has been stabbed.’
    ‘Yes, sir!’The auxiliary saluted and turned away, running down the street towards the town gates.
    As Cato turned back to Menathus, Macro stepped cautiously towards the legionary holding the knife.The man had backed away from the crowd towards the opposite side of the street and was still in a crouch, eyes staring wildly as Macro approached him.
    Macro smiled and held out his hand. ‘That’s enough trouble for tonight, son. Give me the knife, before you do any more damage.’
    The legionary shook his head. ‘Bastard had it coming to him.’
    ‘I’m sure he did. We’ll sort it all out later. Now give me the knife.’
    ‘No. You’ll have me arrested.’ The man’s voice was slurred with drink.
    ‘Arrested?’ Macro snorted. ‘That’s the least of your troubles. Drop the knife before you make it worse for yourself.’
    ‘You don’t understand.’ The legionary waved the knife towards the man on the ground. ‘He cheated me. In a game of dice.’
    ‘Bollocks!’ a voice cried out. ‘He won fair and square.’
    There was a chorus of angry agreement, matched a moment later by furious denials.
    ‘SILENCE!’ Macro roared.
    At once the men stilled their tongues. Macro glared round at them and then returned his attention to the man with the knife.’What’s your name, rank and unit, legionary?’
    ‘Marcus Metellus Crispus, optio, fourth century, second cohort,Tenth Legion, sir!’ the man rattled out automatically. He even attempted to stiffen to attention as he said it, but staggered drunkenly to one side after a moment.
    ‘Optio, give me the knife. That’s an order.’
    Crispus shook his head. ‘I ain’t going in the guardhouse for that cheating bastard.’
    Macro pursed his lips thoughtfully and then nodded. ‘Very well then, but we’ll have to deal with this matter first thing in the morning. I shall have to speak to your centurion.’
    He started to turn away, and Crispus relaxed a moment and let his guard down for the first time. Then there was a blur. Macro’s cane swept up and out and arced round viciously as he swirled back towards Crispus. There was a sharp crack as the blow connected with the man’s head and Crispus collapsed. His knife clattered on to the street a short distance away. Macro stood over him, arm raised, but there was no movement – the man