The Zealot

by Simon Scarrow

  ‘Macro,’ Cato said softly. ‘Sheathe your sword, slowly.’

  Symeon and Cato did the same and turned towards the new arrivals. There was a moment of stillness in which Cato felt himself and his companions scrutinised by the silent riders. Bannus lowered his knife, but kept his arm firmly round Yusef.

  Cato whispered, ‘Symeon, who are they?’

  ‘Bedu.’ Symeon raised a hand in greeting and spoke to the newcomers. A voice replied in kind and one of the riders edged his camel closer. At a series of tongue clicks and taps from his crop the camel’s front legs folded, then the back legs, and the rider eased himself from the saddle. He lowered his veil and stared at them all with dark eyes before he started speaking to Symeon again. Then he turned and snapped out some orders to his men and they also began to dismount. One of the men who had been in the shadows held the reins of the three horses that had been left in the desert.

  ‘What do they want?’ Cato asked.

  ‘Water. There’s a spring in that fissure. He says it belongs to his tribe and that we are trespassing.’

  Macro edged closer to the others. ‘Fine, so what does he intend to do about it?’

  The Bedu leader ordered some of his men to collect waterskins and they disappeared into the fissure. Then he turned back to Symeon and spoke again.

  ‘He wants to know what we are doing here.’

  Cato glanced at Macro. ‘We’ve nothing to hide. Tell him the truth.’

  There was another exchange before Symeon relayed the details. ‘I told him Bannus is our enemy. I asked him if he would let us take Bannus and the boy and leave. He said no.’

  ‘No?’ Cato felt a chill in the back of his neck. ‘Why not? What does he want from us?’

  ‘He demands that we pay a price for trespassing on their land.’

  ‘What price? We have nothing of value.’

  Symeon smiled faintly. ‘Except our lives.’

  ‘They mean to kill us?’

  Macro’s hand tightened on his sword handle. ‘Let them bloody try.’

  ‘Not quite,’ Symeon replied. ‘He said that since we were enemies, we should finish our fight here, in the light of this fire. One of us will fight Bannus. If our man wins we can leave with the boy. If Bannus wins, he leaves with the boy and you two will be killed.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’ Macro frowned, then he glanced at Symeon. ‘You’re going to fight him?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘No. Let me. I’m trained for this. I’ll have a better chance.’

  ‘Prefect, I know how to fight, and this has been a long time coming. Besides, I told the Bedu leader that I would fight.’

  Bannus had overheard all this, and smiled. ‘Nothing I’d like better.’

  ‘Release the boy,’ Cato said.

  ‘Why not?’ Bannus brought out his knife again and cut Yusef ’s bonds. As the ties fell away Yusef hobbled a few steps away from Bannus and collapsed on the sand. Symeon rushed over to him and held the boy’s shoulders.

  ‘Yusef, are you all right?’

  The boy nodded.

  ‘I’ll have you back with your people in a few days, I swear it.’

  Bannus laughed. ‘Only if you kill me first, old friend.’

  Symeon looked up at him. ‘I will kill you Bannus. It’s the only way to cure your sickness.’

  ‘Sickness?’

  ‘What else can it be when a man is so determined to continue a pointless fight that he no longer cares how many die as a result?’

  ‘I do it for my people!’ Bannus protested. ‘You abandoned them long ago. What would you understand of our struggle?’

  ‘That it’s doomed. You cannot fight Rome and win.’

  ‘I can and I will,’ Bannus said with deliberation. ‘It’s just a question of time.’

  Symeon shook his head sadly and held Yusef closer. The leader of the Bedu approached them and spoke to Bannus, pointing to a clear space of ground beside the fire. The Bedu had tethered their camels for the night and now sat in a loose circle about the makeshift arena.

  ‘It’s time,’ Symeon said.

  The Bedu leader pushed them gently towards the clearing, guiding Macro, Cato and Yusef to one side. Then he calmly pressed the two Romans down on to their knees and barked an order to his men. Four came over to stand behind them, and they felt hands on their shoulders and then the cold steel of daggers at their throats. The Bedu shouted to Symeon and the latter nodded, drawing his curved sword. A short distance from him Bannus sheathed his dagger and pulled out his own blade, dropping into a crouch as he eyed Symeon warily.

  For a moment the two men stood staring at each other, blades held out, ready to strike or parry. Then Bannus took a few steps to the side, edging round so that the fire was behind him, throwing him into silhouette. At once Symeon circled to cancel the advantage. As he took his last step, Bannus leaped forward, slashing down with his fine curved blade. Symeon expertly parried the blow and swept his sword round to the side, where it rang sharply off the hilt that Bannus had snatched across to block the cut. It had been the work of an instant, the sound of the last clash biting through the air even before the first clatter had faded. Both men drew back and stood, carefully balanced, weighing each other up.

  Symeon stepped forward and feinted, and feinted again, but Bannus’ blade did not move.

  ‘You’re going to have to try harder than that …’

  ‘You talk too much,’ Symeon replied quietly, then thrust at his opponent’s head, flicking his wrist at the last moment so the blade cut over Bannus’ blocking move and sliced towards his temple. Bannus had no choice but to duck and stagger back to avoid the blow and Symeon launched a series of attacks, which Bannus just managed to ward off in a rapid chorus of ringing blades. At the last moment, as Bannus was pressed towards the Bedu at the edge of the clearing, he powered forward, inside the arc of Symeon’s blade, and crashed into his chest, sending Symeon spinning backwards. As they broke contact, Bannus sliced his blade past the other man’s side and its finely sharpened edge cut through the folds of Symeon’s tunic and laid open a long cut on his chest.

  Symeon grunted with pain and clapped his spare hand to the wound, raising it up red and dripping a moment later.

  Macro winced and turned his head carefully towards Cato. ‘Not good.’

  Keeping his eyes fixed on Symeon, Bannus called out mockingly, ‘Romans! Your friend is too old, too slow. It will be over soon. Better take your leave of each other now.’

  Symeon appeared to sway a little and Cato swallowed nervously. Then with what seemed an effort, Symeon lowered himself into a fighting crouch again and gestured to Bannus to come at him. ‘If you think you can beat me.’

  ‘Only too happy to oblige.’ Now Bannus moved in to attack in a neatly worked sequence that Symeon met with an equally accomplished series of parries and blocks, but at the end of the attack, as Bannus drew off, Symeon was breathing heavily and blinking his eyes. Cato felt a sick sense of resignation as he saw the blood flowing freely from Symeon’s wound and dropping to the ground to soak into the red sand.

  ‘How much longer can you last, old friend?’ Bannus moved his blade from side to side, keeping his distance from Symeon as he continued his taunts. ‘You’re bleeding to death, steadily weakening. I just have to bide my time, make a few more cuts, and then it is over. You’re dead, and Yusef is mine. Just as I defeat you, so I will defeat Rome one day.’

  ‘No!’ Symeon roared, and lumbered forward, his blade flashing yellow and red in the firelight as he slashed at his enemy’s head. There was little finesse in his attack, just sheer brute force as he beat away at Bannus’ sword. Bannus, grim-faced, nimbly warded off the blows and stepped lightly aside, scrambling back as Symeon paused for breath, panting hoarsely.

  ‘You’ve had your chance,’ Bannus said coldly. ‘And I’m tired of playing with you. Now it’s time to end this. Goodbye, Symeon.’ The last words were snarled through gritted teeth as he charged at Symeon. There was a flurry of b
lows and each was parried with a scrape of steel as Symeon found it more and more difficult to defend himself. Then Bannus suddenly jumped to one side and cut down viciously. The edge of his blade cut deep into Symeon’s sword arm and his fingers went limp. The sword dangled a moment then hit the sand with a dull thump.

  Symeon did not cry out but bit his teeth together and moaned deep inside his chest. Bannus stood over him, sword raised and a triumphant sneer on his lips. ‘It’s ended just as I knew it would. Now it’s time for you to join Jehoshua.’ He stepped forward and raised his sword. Cato leaned his head back and shut his eyes. Macro stared ahead with steely contempt for his imminent death.

  As the sword blade poised over Symeon’s head there was a sudden explosion of movement. Symeon’s good hand snatched the dagger from Bannus’ belt, and the blade turned up as it rose, in one fluid movement. It was over so quickly that the first Macro was aware of it was when he saw the hilt of the dagger under Bannus’ chin and the red spike of its point where it had burst through the top of his skull. Bannus stood for a moment with a stunned expression on his face, mouth slightly agape. Then his arms slumped down and the sword dropped from his lifeless hands and he collapsed by the fire, his legs kicking once in a wild spasm.

  For a moment all was still, then Symeon rose unsteadily to his feet and looked down at Bannus. ‘As I said. You talk too much.’

  Cato opened his eyes, surprised that he was still alive. Then he saw Bannus sprawled at the feet of Symeon. ‘What happened?’

  Macro glanced at him. ‘You missed that? Sometimes I despair at you, lad.’ Then he looked round at the Bedu warriors behind him, put his finger gently against the blade still at his throat, and eased it to one side, with a smile. ‘If you don’t bloody mind, that is?’

  The Bedu warriors moved away from them and Macro and Cato hurried across to Symeon, who was swaying now. They eased him down on to the sand and Cato tore strips from Bannus’ tunic. The wounds looked clean by the light of the fire and the Romans bound Symeon’s wounds. Yusef watched from his original position, still shaken by what he had just witnessed, and all that he had endured over the days since he had been taken from his people. As soon as he had finished bandaging Symeon, Cato took the bedroll from Bannus’ saddle and wrapped it round the boy’s shoulders.

  Now that their entertainment was done, the Bedu largely ignored them and set about preparing their camp for the night. They cooked a meal over the fire and the leader beckoned the others to join them and share their food. Symeon was given pride of place and the Bedu warriors talked animatedly to him about the fight until he was too weak to continue, and begged them to let him sleep. Cato made up his bedroll and helped Symeon down and then covered him with a cloak to keep him warm once the fire died down. He did the same for the boy and then sat with Macro staring across the flames at the Bedu warriors.

  For a long time Macro said nothing, and then he finally muttered, ‘That was close. Closest I’ve ever come to thinking I’d actually die.’ He turned to his friend. ‘Don’t mind telling you, it scared the shit out of me.’

  ‘You scared?’ Cato chuckled. ‘I don’t believe it.’

  ‘It’s no joke, Cato. Seriously, no joke.’ He turned to look at Symeon. Yusef had shuffled his bedroll closer to the wounded man and was resting his head against Symeon’s uninjured side. ‘That Symeon’s a bloody marvel. Must have taken nerves of steel to wait for his chance like that. The problem of course is that he saved our lives.’

  Cato could not hide his astonishment. ‘That’s a problem?’

  ‘Oh yes. It means that now I owe him a favour.’

  The Bedu had gone when Cato woke first the next morning. Only the faint impressions in the sand and the half buried mounds of camel dung remained to show they had camped there for the night. They had pilfered Bannus’ belongings and the casket that he had taken from Miriam lay open on the sand. A length of white cloth, with dark stains that might have been blood, spilled over the lid of the casket and a plain glazed cup lay a short distance away. Cato folded the shroud carefully and put it back in the casket, placing the cup safely in between layers of the material before he shut the casket and fastened the latch. The fire was dead and the ashes were no longer even warm. Bannus’ body lay where it had fallen, and Cato dragged it away behind the bushes and buried it before the others were awake. Macro stirred next, sat up abruptly and looked round for the Bedu.

  ‘Gone! How the hell did they do that?’

  ‘You’re not exactly a light sleeper.’

  ‘Very funny. Where’s Bannus?’

  Cato jerked his thumb towards the bushes. ‘Out of sight and out of mind. Where he belongs.’

  Symeon’s wounds felt stiff and he had to be helped into the saddle as they prepared to ride out of Rhum. Yusef insisted on riding the same horse that had carried him to this place. He took the reins and looked round at Cato. ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘Home.’ Cato smiled. ‘We’re taking you home.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  They rode into Heshaba several days later. The centre of the settlement was surrounded by the blackened shells of the houses that had been set on fire by Bannus and his men. A few curious faces turned out to see the four riders as they rode past, and once Yusef had been recognised people hurried to find Miriam and tell her that a miracle had happened.

  Macro and Cato tethered their horses in the village square and helped Symeon down from his mount. The wound to his side was healing slowly, but the blow to his arm had severed too many muscles and tendons ever to recover fully and Symeon was coming to terms with the probability that he would never be able to wield a sword again. His fighting days were over. He sat heavily in the shade of a blackened wall and Cato went over to the trough to douse his head. Yusef made sure that Symeon was made comfortable and was about to slip off when there was a sharp cry from the end of a street and the four new arrivals turned to the sound. Miriam was leaning one hand against a wall for support while she clasped the other to her mouth. As soon as he saw her Yusef sprang to his feet and sprinted across and threw himself into her arms. For a while they just held each other close, and then they continued into the square, walking arm in arm over to Symeon and the two Roman officers. Miriam bit her lip, struggling to hold back her tears as she spoke.

  ‘I–I don’t know how to thank you. I—’ She looked down and shook her head slightly. ‘I don’t know the words to say how happy I am. How grateful I am. May God bless you all and keep you safe for the hereafter.’

  ‘Well, thank you,’ Macro responded awkwardly. ‘I’m sure he will keep an eye on us, especially after all we’ve been through. We’ve earned it.’

  ‘There’s one more thing,’ Cato said. He walked over to his horse, unbuckled a large saddle pouch and carefully took out Miriam’s casket. ‘Here you are.’

  Miriam took the casket and stroked a hand softly across the lid. ‘Again, thank you and bless you.’ She looked up at Cato. ‘I take it you have dealt with Bannus.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Poor soul. Poor tormented soul.’

  Macro looked at Cato in surprise and was about to open his mouth when Cato shook his head with a pleading expression. Then Cato looked round the village. ‘What happens now? Are you going to rebuild the destroyed houses? We could help you.’

  ‘No,’ Miriam replied. ‘I’ve been thinking things over since Yusef was taken from me. There’s no point. Heshaba will not survive in isolation. We cannot escape the world as I had hoped we could. There is no future for the vision of my son if we stay here. If we cannot escape the world, then we must re-join it.’ She smiled. ‘I suppose you might say that we cannot let the world escape us. Anyway, I’ve decided that we must go to the cities, and spread word of his teaching where there are ears to hear it.’

  ‘Then I wish you well,’ Cato replied. ‘Though I’ll be honest. Any movement that seeks to change the world by peaceful persuasion has got its work cut out. Chances are you will fail.’

  ‘Maybe,
’ Miriam said. ‘But we have to try. Or my son will have died for nothing.’ She turned to Symeon. ‘What about you? Are you still playing the great adventurer?’

  Symeon indicated his bandaged arm. ‘Those days are over, Miriam. There’ll be no more fighting for me now.’

  She nodded. ‘No fighting perhaps. But you could always join us. We could use a man like you. One with your connections.’

  ‘I’ll think about it.’

  ‘My son believed in you, Symeon.’

  Symeon glanced quickly at Macro and Cato, but they remained expressionless. His guilty secret had died with Bannus and neither Cato nor Macro saw any reason to reawaken old wounds now. Not least on this day when Yusef had been restored to Miriam.

  Symeon took her hand. ‘We can talk about it later.’

  ‘Very well.’ Miriam turned to Macro and Cato. ‘You’ve had a long ride. Can I offer you something to eat and drink? Some shelter?’

  Macro shook his head. ‘No. Thank you for the offer, but I have to return to Bushir. It’s been too long since Cato and I were with our men. We have to return to duty, now that Bannus has gone. Maybe we’ll see you later, before you and your people quit Heshaba.’

  ‘Yes, Prefect. We’d be honoured.’

  Macro smiled briefly and turned to Cato. ‘Come on, we have to go.’

  They clasped arms with Symeon for the last time and Cato laughed. ‘You’ll have to show me that trick with the knife some day. Next time I’ll keep my eyes open.’

  Symeon shook his head. ‘I’ve had enough of weapons. Enough of death. That’s all behind me now.’

  ‘Really?’ Macro looked disappointed. ‘A pity.’

  The two officers untethered their mounts and swung themselves up into the saddles. As they rode out of the village Miriam, Symeon and Yusef stood in the middle of the square for a while and watched them trot up the track that led out of the wadi. Miriam had the casket clutched tightly beneath her arm. Then Symeon placed his good arm about her shoulder and Yusef put his arm round her from the other side and they turned to walk towards the shelter that had been erected to serve as Miriam’s temporary home.