The Kingdom That Rome Forgot by Gavin Chappell

Author:Gavin Chappell
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
ISBN: 9781725603400
Publisher: Schlock! Publications
Published: 2018-08-26T04:00:00+00:00

—16—

Phazania, 18th December 124 AD

One man had been left on guard over the horses.

‘What do we do?’ Amasis asked. ‘He won’t let us take one, you know…’

Flaminius crept up behind the warrior, a strapping fellow with a leaf bladed spear gripped firmly in his hands, who was peering in the direction of the search. Seizing the man by the shoulder, he spun him round and punched him in the jaw. The Garamantian fell backward, striking his head on a bole.

‘Get two horses,’ Flaminius said, ‘and lead them to the chariots…’

He broke off as the fallen man rose unsteadily. The spear had fallen to the sand and Flaminius placed a foot on it as the man tried to grab it from where it lay. Angry, the Garamantian seized Flaminius in a wrestler’s hold, wrapping big arms round his chest. Flaminius retaliated with a downwards elbow jab into the man’s shoulder, but to no effect; he was hauled off his feet. Seizing the man’s bull neck between his hands he squeezed, but the man flung him bodily into the tree.

Flaminius hit it with enough force to knock the breath from his lungs, and slid down to its foot. Dimly he heard the man shouting something in his own tongue, followed by many other voices from the distance. Weakly, Flaminius tried to get up. The man stamped down on his wrist and he fell flat again. A foot sank into his ribs.

Ignoring the pain, he rolled over and grabbed the man’s foot, twisting the man by the ankle so he spun off balance. Then he hauled, and the Garamantian fell forward, right into Flaminius’ hastily raised fist.

Pain lanced up Flaminius’ wrist with the impact but the Garamantian warrior slumped to the ground, paying very little attention to the dark world. It was the bigger of Flaminius’ two captors, a man with a grievance, but he was quiet now. Which was more than could be said for the oasis.

‘Uncle Gaius!’ Amasis said urgently, as Flaminius stumbled to his feet. ‘I’ve got the horses tied to the wooden thing, but I think it’s too late. They’re coming!’

Flaminius took one look at the woods, from which dark figures were emerging, then to Amasis, standing by a chariot with two horses hitched to the yoke pole. Shaking his fuzzy head to clear it, rubbing at his sprained wrist, he ran for the chariot. The horses whinnied and reared as he forced Amasis into the back then seized the reins.

‘Stay right where you are!’ came Vabalathus’ voice.

The Arab was in the middle, a spear poised javelin like in his right hand. At his side stood Dido, her face set in a scowl, and Claudius Mercator, looking bewildered by the course of events. Numbly Flaminius wondered what had become of Demetrius and Menander. He whipped up the horses. Garamantes swept up out of the trees on either side. And Vabalathus flung the spear.

It shot through the air, straight through the place where Flaminius had been standing and sank into the bole of a date palm.

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