Traitors of Rome (Eagles of the Empire 18)

by Simon Scarrow

  Apollonius nodded and stepped over to the hatch coaming. He pulled out some of the bales of fur and then some jars of wine before he located the rocks packed into the bilges. ‘These will do nicely.’

  There were some empty sacks in the bow locker, and he packed rocks into three of them before tying them to the feet of Democles and his two crewmen. He paused to wrench the knife out of the captain’s throat and wiped it on his tunic before setting it aside and removing Democles’s purse. Then, lifting the body under the armpits, he heaved it up onto the side and pushed it overboard. There was a splash and a large ripple, and Cato saw the captain’s face dimly beneath the surface as he sank into the depths and disappeared. Patrakis was next, and then Apollonius went to lift the youth up. As he raised him by the shoulders, there was a groan as the boy came round, and his eyes flickered open. At once he turned his head to the side and vomited convulsively.

  ‘Charming.’ Apollonius let go and looked up at Cato. ‘Well, this one’s still alive. What do we do with him? We can’t keep him with us. He’ll give us away first chance he gets.’

  ‘Tie him up and put him in the hold.’

  Apollonius sighed. ‘I don’t think so.’

  He picked up the knife, grasped the boy’s hair and pulled his head back, cutting his throat with a firm sweep of the blade. Blood pulsed onto the deck, and the youth moaned and stared about him in panic.

  ‘Upsy-daisy,’ Apollonius muttered through gritted teeth as he lifted the writhing body and tipped it over the side. ‘That’s solved the problem.’

  Cato glared at him. ‘I told you to tie him up.’

  ‘Yes, you did,’ Apollonius said simply, then gestured at the splatters and pools of blood on the deck. ‘I’d better clean this up before it gets light. Don’t want us looking like a butcher’s block to any boats seeing it if they pass close by.’

  By the time the sun rose over the hills to the east and bathed the landscape either side of the river in a ruddy glow, the decks had been cleared of blood and Apollonius was searching for something to eat and drink. There was a locker in the deck underneath the captain’s steering position, and Cato moved to one side to permit the agent to search it. He leaned in and took out two small wine jars. One was empty, so he tossed it over the side. The second was half full; he took out the cork, sniffed, winced and sent it the same way as the first.

  ‘Water it is, then,’ he muttered as he continued searching. A moment later he found a large cured sausage wrapped in a fine cloth, and a small chest. ‘Aha!’

  He opened the chest and held it up for Cato to see. Inside was a small fortune in silver coins.

  ‘More than enough for our needs.’ Cato nodded. ‘I wonder how much of that Democles was going to spend on a couple of broken-down nags for us.’

  Apollonius closed the chest and placed it back in the locker. He unwrapped the sausage and was about to cut some thick slices when he noticed the boy’s blood still on the blade. Out of deference to his superior’s sensitivity, he leaned over the side to wash the blood off before he proceeded. A moment later, the two men were chewing contentedly on the hunks of meat, fat and gristle as the barge maintained its course upriver with Cato resting his spare arm on the tiller.

  From its position on an escarpment high above the river, the fortress city of Dura Europus commanded fine views. Cato and Apollonius gazed out over the surrounding landscape as they rested briefly after their climb from the dock far below. They had moored the barge at the far end and paid a local boy to mind it for them until they returned, so that it would not look abandoned until they were far from the city. They had taken two cloaks and spare tunics from the slop chest, and the coins Cato had divided between them were safely tucked into the bottom of the sidebags they carried. With their worn clothing and unkempt beards, they drew no attention amid the diverse range of people passing through the city. They paid the toll at the gate and walked through the gatehouse into the narrow street beyond.

  The city owed its origins to a military purpose, and since the original structures had determined the layout, what was now a thriving market had once been the parade ground of the fortress. It occupied an open square bounded by the fortress’s stables, which were now used as warehouses by the merchants who traded goods from the furthest corners of the known world and beyond. People of many races crowded the narrow lanes between the market stalls, dressed in clothes of every hue and style, and though most spoke in Greek or the local dialect, there were several tongues that were completely unknown to Cato.

  The two Romans bought rations and spare waterskins for the journey before making their way out of the west gate of the city, which gave onto the plateau where the beast market stood. There were pens of goats and pigs, lines of mules, and corrals for the camels and horses to one side of the arena used for auctions. Cato and Apollonius approached one of the smaller dealers and examined his stock of horses. Palmyra was over a hundred miles across the desert, and it was essential to choose dependable horses for the journey along the trade route linking the two cities. They picked out three, in case one fell lame, and two saddles; then, leaving Apollonius to agree the price, Cato went to the nearest feed merchant to buy bags of grain.

  As he waited for Apollonius to join him, he noticed a group of Parthian soldiers making their way through the market, stopping to question traders and random passers-by. He shifted his feed bags to the shade of an awning to one side of the thoroughfare and lay down on them pretending to be asleep. Through narrowed eyes he watched the Parthians approach. One of them passed close by and paused to glance at him. He gave a theatrical snort and yawn before picking his nose and turning on his side. The Parthian’s lip curled in disgust and he continued on his way.

  As soon as the soldiers were a safe distance away, Cato stood up and looked anxiously in the direction of the horse trader. To his relief, he saw Apollonius leading the three mounts. The agent gave him a cheery wave, but when he saw the serious expression on Cato’s face, his smile faded.

  ‘What’s up?’

  Cato pointed in the direction the Parthians had taken. ‘Soldiers searching the crowd. They might not be looking for us, but I’d bet good money that they are.’

  ‘There may be more of them on the road to Palmyra,’ Apollonius said as he scanned the surrounding throng of traders and customers.

  ‘I would imagine so.’ Cato heaved the feed bags up across the back of the spare horse and tied them to the harness. ‘The sooner we get going, the better.’

  They led the horses to the edge of the beast market and made their way towards the area where caravans were forming up ready to begin the desert crossing. The camels and horses were drinking from a series of stone troughs fed by a channel leading back to the city, and the air was filled with the sound of voices and the deep, guttural bleating and groaning of the camels. Water splashed in a small nymphaeum set up as a grateful offering to the gods by a successful merchant, whose name was carved into its black stone base. Several men were filling waterskins there. Apollonius stayed with the horses while Cato saw to their own waterskins and made certain the stoppers were securely in place before hanging them from the saddle horns.

  ‘Do you see?’ said the agent quietly, nodding towards the Palmyra road. A short distance beyond the laden camels and their drivers, Cato could see that the Parthians had set up a checkpoint and were already scrutinising the head of the caravan moving out along the road. ‘What shall we do, Tribune?’

  ‘They’re looking for two men, so we’ll separate. I’ll go first. If they stop me, you hold back and try and find another way. If I think they’re on to me, I’ll stretch out my arms. All right?’

  ‘Why not let me go first?’

  ‘Because you’re the one with all the intelligence stored in your head. Corbulo will need that for the campaign. It’s more important that you get back across the frontier safely.’

  ‘You’re right,’ Apolloniu
s conceded. ‘Be careful, Tribune. For a fine soldier, you make a terrible spy.’

  Cato gave a dry laugh. ‘I’ll do my best to keep out of trouble.’

  He took the reins of one of the saddled horses and led it away from the marshalling area and onto the road behind a string of camels carrying large bales of brightly coloured cloth. He paused and lifted himself up into the saddle before he flicked the reins and continued following the camels, which swayed easily from side to side as they plodded forward on their broad padded feet. The checkpoint was just over a hundred paces away, and he felt his heart beat faster as he slowly approached the soldiers. He made his mind up that if he was challenged, he’d make a break for it. The horse was in good shape and would be able to carry him for some miles away from the road before he was obliged to rest it. Enough to outpace the Parthians, he hoped. And if they set off after him, it would give Apollonius a chance to get a fair distance along the road before they returned to their checkpoint.

  The soldiers seemed to be waving camel drivers through and focusing their attention on carts and wagons and those riding horses, in groups or travelling alone. As Cato neared them, they stopped a cart and an officer questioned the driver, who looked down as he was spoken to and seemed to answer furtively. The officer snapped an order to the nearest of his men, and two of them began to search the cart while two others stood either side of the driver. The officer watched closely as the camels ahead of Cato passed by, and then stepped out in front of him and raised a hand, calling out a command.

  Cato reined in but shook his head as he responded in Greek. ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘What is your name?’ the Parthian demanded in accented Greek.

  ‘Philo of Alexandria,’ Cato replied.

  ‘Where have you come from?’ asked the officer. He stepped closer and patted the horse’s cheek before taking hold of the bridle. ‘And what’s your business here?’

  Cato thought quickly. He was tempted to use the fur trader cover story, but it was possible that the bodies of the barge’s crew had been found and a connection made with the fugitives. ‘I have come from Seleucia, where I sold my last cargo of scents from Alexandria. I am returning there now to fetch the next shipment.’

  ‘A scent merchant.’ The officer leaned closer and sniffed. ‘Either you’re lying, or your scents are so cheap they don’t last for very long.’

  Cato forced a laugh. ‘Long enough for me to take the money and go, sir.’

  The Parthian shook his head in disgust. ‘You Greeks . . . Do you never stop cheating your customers? People like you, coming across our borders, taking our money and laughing at us behind our backs. King Vologases will see you off one day. There’s a man who truly believes in Parthia for the Parthians.’ He released his grip on the bridle and stepped away. ‘Get out of here before I give you a good hiding.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Cato bowed his head obsequiously. ‘Thank you, sir.’

  He clicked his tongue and trotted his horse through the checkpoint without looking back, continuing for another hundred paces before slowing to a walk, fearing that he might be called back at any moment. But there was no outcry, and he sighed with relief. Half a mile down the road, he drew up and waited for Apollonius. An hour passed before he saw the agent riding towards him, leading the spare horse with his free hand. As soon as he caught sight of Cato, he slowed down, and Cato urged his mount forward and fell in alongside him.

  ‘Any trouble?’

  ‘No. I waited a while to give you a chance to get away if they took me.’

  Cato nodded his gratitude. ‘Did they stop you?’

  ‘Briefly. Just to ask my name and a few other details.’

  ‘What did you tell them?’

  ‘I gave them the same story we used with Democles.’

  ‘I see.’

  Apollonius caught the strained tone in Cato’s remark. ‘Any problem with that?’

  ‘Let’s hope not. Come on. I want to get to the head of the caravan. Then tomorrow we’ll head off on our own and ride hard for Palmyra.’

  The caravan had travelled some fifteen miles along the road to Palmyra before the leading merchant and his string of animals drew up to camp for the night. The sun was still above the horizon and casting long shadows across the barren landscape. The featureless ground stretched out on all sides; sand and rocks, with stunted shrubs dotting the barely undulating desert. One by one the other merchants and their drovers moved off the road to find a patch of ground to claim for themselves. It was a long-standing convention, since only a fool would continue alone for any distance to make camp. There was safety in numbers, particularly here in the desert, where bands of brigands were often on the lookout for easy prey. The dust raised by the camels and horses hung in the evening air like a red mist, through which men and beasts moved like ghosts.

  Cato and Apollonius picked their way to an area just ahead of the caravan and dismounted. They relieved the horses of their burdens and then unbuckled the saddles and heaved them off before slipping feedbags over the animals’ noses. While their mounts chomped on the barley, Apollonius used his knife to cut the nearest scrub for firewood.

  As the sun disappeared below the western horizon, they sat either side of the small fire the agent had prepared, propped up against their saddles. Cato shared out their rations, and they chewed on hardtack and strips of dried beef, followed by dates bought in the market at Dura Europus. As he sipped from a waterskin, Apollonius gestured towards one of the larger camp areas, where a small crowd had gathered around a fire.

  ‘Should we join them? So that we don’t stand out.’

  Cato looked round before he responded. ‘No one is paying us any attention. Better we stay here rather than risk being asked any awkward questions that might cause suspicion. You can be sure there are enough people in the caravan who have heard about the reward.’

  ‘If you say so, Tribune, though I might hear something that could be useful to the general.’

  Cato smiled thinly. ‘Still playing your part as Corbulo’s spy?’

  ‘Of course. To the very end.’

  ‘I hope it’s worth it. Given that it has cost the lives of my men.’

  ‘They will only have died for nothing if we don’t make it to Palmyra,’ Apollonius responded wearily. ‘And we’re not too far from there now. There’s nothing between us and safety but this desert.’

  ‘I hope you’re right.’ Cato was quiet for a moment as he regarded the agent. ‘And what happens after we get back to Corbulo? Will you stay with the army when he begins the campaign?’

  ‘If he pays me well enough to make it worth my while, yes.’

  ‘If not, what will you do?’

  ‘Why the interest in my life, Tribune?’

  ‘You’re a competent man. A quick thinker, and good in a fight. I could use someone like you in my cohort.’

  Apollonius threw his head back and laughed. ‘Me? Become a soldier? Why would I want to do that? It would mean obeying orders given by men I have no respect for, and giving orders to men for whom I have even less respect. All for a fraction of what I earn now. And I would have no choice in the cause I fought for. No say over whether I agreed with the purpose of a war that might claim my life. What kind of fool would sign up for that?’

  ‘Clearly the kind you have no respect for . . .’

  ‘I apologise, Tribune. You’re a good man, and a good officer. I do respect you. Truly I do. But I have to ask you, why did you choose to be a soldier?’

  ‘I didn’t,’ Cato replied simply.

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘I had no choice. I was my father’s bequest to the army when he died. As it turned out, the army became my family. I suppose I stuck with it because it was the only family I had. The men I fight alongside are more like brothers to me than if we shared the same parents. I wish I could give you a lengthy justification that would satisf
y your intellect. Some discourse on the honour of serving the emperor, defending the homeland or fighting for civilised values. But I can’t. I’ve lived long enough to see such phrases for the hollow sham they are. I serve because the army is my family. That’s how it is.’

  Apollonius nodded, and stared up at the first of the evening stars. ‘Some important things in life are simple, Tribune. There is no need to make excuses for them.’

  ‘I’m not making excuses,’ Cato replied sharply. ‘Anyway, you’ve made your position clear. I won’t ask you again. It’s time to sleep. I want to be on the road at first light.’

  He built up the fire with the rest of the wood that had been cut and then settled back against his saddle and covered himself with his cloak. He closed his eyes and breathed slowly, pretending to be asleep, and waited until he could hear Apollonius start to snore lightly. Then he opened his eyes and saw above him the full splendour of the night sky. The air was dry and clear, so that it seemed there were more stars visible than he had ever seen before, and there was something achingly beautiful about being there in the desert beneath such exquisitely serene heavens. It felt as if time itself had stopped and he was caught up in some form of eternity that granted him absolute peace of mind and soul, as though all his cares and fears were set aside for that moment of bliss. He wondered if this was proof that he was not meant to be a soldier after all. Or perhaps soldiers were not so different from other people when it came to enjoying such moments. Poets had no monopoly on the appreciation of beauty, just as soldiers had no monopoly on the exercise of violence. What would Macro make of this experience? he wondered. He realised once again how much he missed his friend. When danger threatened, there was no greater reassurance than knowing Macro was at his side, come what may, to the very end.

  Cato turned on his side and closed his eyes, shifting closer to the fire to keep out the cold of the desert night. His mind cleared and he slowly drifted off to sleep.