The Bronze Bow - Elizabeth George Speare [75]
Daniel gave two sharp whistles, the alert they had arranged, and looked up at the bank.
"Climb up there, will you?" he growled to Joktan, pointing. "Tell whoever that is to pull in his rump before he gets a javelin in it." That would get Joktan also above the danger line, he reckoned.
The first horsemen swung into view, moving slowly to keep pace with the footmen. The cavalry rode in pairs, their spurs almost touching in the narrow pass, erect, silent, the plumes of their helmets rising and falling with the horses' pace.
Would the others remember? The horsemen were to go through. Daniel tensed. He felt a vast relief as not a sound or motion betrayed the boys on the cliff. Behind the horsemen came the footsoldiers, in a double line. He watched them pass, one steely face after another. He counted sixteen. Then shuffled the prisoners, chained together by the ankles in a long line. Joel was the fifth, barefoot, disheveled, his feet dragging. Between him and the rock marched a guard with a heavy whip. Behind the prisoners there would be more footsoldiers.
Daniel held his breath. When Joel was nearly below him he gave the signal. The first rock hurtled through the air and found a mark. A footsoldier stumbled. Instantly the air was flecked with rocks. An order crackled back across the line. As one man, the Romans raised their shields above their heads. Four men broke from the rank and charged up the almost vertical rock. A stone caught the first in the chest and sent him reeling back. A spear struck the second cleanly. But the line behind them resealed itself into an unbroken, purposeful unit. Daniel's heart sank. He had guessed wrong. The Romans were going to charge the bank and the boys could not possibly hold them back for long.
But in the same instant as his shout for retreat, a thunder drowned out his voice. Jerking back his head, Daniel saw with horror the great rock that teetered on the opposite bank, ripped from the cliffside, and crashed down, gathering speed and force, carrying with it a roar of dirt and stones. Stupified, he watched the leaping, frenzied soldiers. There had been no one on the other bank. What had dislodged the rock?
Then he glimpsed a shape, huge, crouched like an animal, dodging on all fours along the bank. For one flash he saw the powerful arms, the massive dark head. Samson! But how—?
Abruptly he came to his senses. Now was his chance. With a thrust of his arms, he pulled himself up to the shelf of rock and leaped. As his feet found the path, he sank his dagger below the shoulder of the guard, and as the man crumpled, dropped to his knees before Joel, pulled out his chisel, and reached for the chain. The first blow of the sharpened tool left a nick in the iron. He struck again, and saw the nick deepen.
Confusion swelled around him. The prisoners were screaming now. He heard a second thudding roar, but he did not look up. As he raised his arm for a third blow, he felt himself seized from behind, in a paralyzing grip, lifted clear off the ground, jerked upward like a helpless sack. For an instant he hung in the air, and then he struck against the rock. Pain whirled him in crazy circles, and through the pain he felt hands clutching and pulling, scraping his flesh along the rock. A heavy body struck squarely on top of him. Legs thrashed about his head, and blackness crashed down on him.
He came out of the blackness into the blinding sun. There was rock under him, and pain zigzagged through his body. He blinked, trying to focus through the glare. Near him he made out a figure—Joel—sitting with his knees drawn up, his face buried in his arms.
"Don't move!" a voice warned. Kemuel's face blocked out the sky. "They've about cleared out."
Memory came back suddenly. He jerked up, and sank back again, helpless against the pain. He saw now that he was in the crevice of rock, but higher up the bank.
"Careful!" Kemuel warned. "You've got a broken shoulder bone, I think. Maybe a couple of broken ribs. Joel was luckier. He landed on top of you. He's got hardly