by Brown, Nick
‘You! You!’
An elderly woman came across the courtyard at surprising speed, a broom in her hand. Indavara had to negotiate the last few feet of the wall with the sharp bristles raking his calves. He jumped down into the adjacent alley with the old woman still yelling. He could hear the labourers too; they weren’t far away.
He ran in the opposite direction.
Zaara-Kitar looked up at Cassius. ‘What did you say you do, Master Crispian?’
Her perfume was excessive and up close he could see the wrinkles under the powder. But even though the woman’s behaviour disgusted him, Cassius conceded to himself that – in the right circumstances – those smoky green eyes might be hard to resist.
‘Merchant.’
‘Really? Most of the merchants I know are fat and old and easily panicked.’
Kushara turned from the table, where he had stacked the coins in neat piles of ten. ‘It’s all here. Thirty aurei.’
Zaara-Kitar was still looking up at Cassius. ‘I must admit, you intrigue me, Master Crispian. Perhaps if your friends leave us I can put back my appointment and we can take lunch together.’
Cassius had recently altered his views on the merits of older women but, whatever her other attributes, he felt sure that Zaara-Kitar was quite mad.
‘What’s on the menu?’ he asked, tilting his head towards the garden. ‘Fresh rat?’
‘Whatever you want – my chef can prepare anything.’
Kushara observed this exchange with a neutral expression; presumably it wasn’t unusual for his mother to throw herself at men younger than her sons.
‘Thank you for the invitation, but I’m afraid I’ve rather lost my appetite and it appears our business is concluded. However, before we leave I expect you to return our weapons.’
‘A bold demand.’
‘Your sons didn’t even give me a chance to speak. It’s hardly a surprise that my friends and I defended ourselves.’
Kushara’s hand drifted towards his knife. ‘You—’
‘Oh, calm yourself, Kush,’ said his mother. ‘Master Crispian has a point. You’re just angry because that bodyguard got the better of you. Fetch the weapons.’
Kushara departed, fists clenched.
Cassius reclaimed his satchel.
‘You’re not a merchant,’ said Zaara-Kitar with a final smile.
‘All right, I admit it, I’m not a merchant,’ said Cassius. ‘But sometimes – days like today, for example – I rather wish I was.’
After Indavara had recounted his misadventures back at the inn, Cassius slumped down on his bed. ‘Gods, the sooner we get out of Petra the better.’
‘Fine by me.’ Indavara looked down at his hands; they were heavily grazed and coated with orange dust from the tiles.
‘We should clean you up,’ said Simo, who was at last recovering from his exertions.
Indavara was more interested in grabbing figs from a bowl and washing them down with wine. ‘Don’t fuss, Simo.’
The pair of them were also resting on the beds, while Ulixes sat against the wall by the window. The ex-legionary had barely said a word on the way back but now nodded at the jug of wine. ‘Servant, pour me some of that.’
‘He is not your servant,’ said Cassius. ‘But go ahead, Simo. And fill mine up too.’
‘So when do I get my coin?’ asked Ulixes.
‘We’ll see.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean? I had an agreement with Pitface. One hundred aurei.’
‘You’re getting fifty,’ Cassius told him. ‘Minus thirty now.’
‘Twenty? A measly twenty – after what I’ve been through?’
‘That’s your own stupid fault – what about what you put us through?’
Still chewing on a fig, Indavara glowered at Ulixes, who pretended not to notice.
‘So you want to know where this stone is, then?’
‘Keep your voice down.’ Cassius sat up to check that the sentry Mercator had left behind was nowhere near the window. ‘Go on.’
‘Town called Galanaq – about a hundred and twenty miles south of here.’
Cassius reached for his map.
‘It won’t be on there,’ said Ulixes. ‘Very remote. Deep in the Hejaz mountains.’
‘How long to get there?’
‘A week, maybe.’
‘And what about this chief? This religious sect?’
‘I don’t know. My contact was just passing through. I already told Pitface everything. Anyway, that’s your problem now. I’ve done my bit – where’s my coin?’
‘You’re not getting it now.’
‘What?’
Ulixes was halfway to his feet when a fig bounced off his nose.
‘Stay there,’ said Indavara.
‘Yes,’ added Cassius. ‘Stay there and drink your wine.’
Ulixes reluctantly sat down and took the mug from Simo.
‘You’ve given a location, yes,’ Cassius continued. ‘But as I pointed out to Abascantius, that doesn’t prove a damned thing. You’ll get your money when I see the stone.’
‘When you …’ Ulixes gulped down some wine before continuing. ‘I’m not going down there, you lot are liable to get yourselves killed messing with the desert folk.’
‘I don’t expect you to accompany us for nothing,’ said Cassius. ‘Taking into account your time and the factor of risk, I shall double your fee to forty aurei.’
‘Fifty.’
‘It’s forty. Take it or leave it.’
‘And if I leave it?’
‘I’ll still have the name of the town and you’ll have nothing. And judging by the state of your clothes I’d say you’ve had nothing for quite a while. No offence.’
Ulixes drank more, then gaped thoughtfully at the wall. ‘Don’t really have much choice, do I?’
‘Glad you’re seeing sense. There’s not much space but you’re welcome to stay here tonight. Do you have a mount?’
‘Sold it.’
‘You’ll need one – Simo will give you the money. And you’d better go now – there’ll be no time tomorrow.’
Later, Cassius and Mercator left the men eating dinner outside the inn and took a walk. Fires glowed inside the cavern-houses and liquid ran down to the ground from channels worn in the rock face. Hoping it was water, Cassius listened as Mercator briefed him on the condition of the men. Though still perturbed by what awaited them farther south, they had avoided any trouble and bought some provisions for the next stage of the journey.
‘It would help if we at least knew where we’re going,’ said the optio.
Cassius could see no reason to disclose the name of the town yet. ‘We’re continuing South on the Via Traiana, then taking the Incense Road. From there we will enter the Hejaz mountains. Do you know the area at all?’
‘No. I think Andal visited Arabia Felix once but no one else has been that far.’
‘Well, we do have a guide.’
‘The man who was leaving when we came back?’
‘Yes. His name’s Ulixes. Ex-legionary.’
‘Really?’
‘I know. Unfortunately we need him but we’ll be keeping a close eye on him and I suggest you do the same.’
In the distance a bell clanged, announcing some ceremony at one of the city’s innumerable temples. They turned back towards the inn.
‘Are you prepared to tell me what all this is about yet?’ asked Mercator.
‘Once we’re out of the city.’
‘But this Ulixes – he knows?’
‘Yes.’
‘And your bodyguard, and your servant—’
‘Mercator, listen, it’s certainly not that I don’t trust you. Quite the opposite. But the fewer people who know the better. I will tell you as soon as I can.’
‘The men heard some talk today – about the desert, about the Incense Road. Some of the locals say the Tanukh are no longer the allies of Rome. That it’s impossible to know friend from foe in the southern lands.’
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‘The situation does seem dangerous, it’s true. Which makes it all the more important that we maintain the cover. Obviously the story must change now. I have been checking the map. Do you know of this place Hegra?’
‘Only the name.’
‘If asked, we will say we are journeying there to sample trade goods.’
‘I’ll pass it on to the men.’
‘Good. We leave at dawn.’
XVI
The Via Traiana stretched away across a plain littered with rocks ranging from pebbles to boulders the size of a cart. In the distance were the remarkably bright buildings of Humeima, a town where a particular type of local white stone was used. The largest structure there was the fortress manned by two centuries of the ninth cohort.
‘What do you make of that?’ said Cassius, reining in. A mile or so ahead was a tall plume of dust.
‘Not sure,’ said Mercator, raising a hand to stop the others.
‘A fast-moving column; horses or camels,’ suggested Ulixes. He was riding alone, between Indavara and Simo and the first pair of auxiliaries.
‘Where’s the turn?’ asked Cassius. It was the ninth hour; they’d made good time since leaving Petra and were now approaching the Incense Road.
Ulixes ran a finger and thumb down his chin. ‘About where they are.’
‘We have time, then. Let’s get out of their way and give the horses a break.’
He led the way off the road. Once they’d all dismounted, Ulixes looked to the south-east. ‘This wind’s getting up. See the clouds over there?’
Cassius wiped some of the day’s grime off his face. ‘Yes.’
‘If they break over us we’ll get a drenching – could be a thunderstorm.’
‘We have tents.’
‘If they don’t break, there might be a haboob.’
‘A what?’
‘A sandstorm,’ interjected Mercator. ‘Isn’t it too early in the season?’
‘I’ve seen them this time of year,’ replied the gambler.
‘We’ve already had one windy night,’ said Cassius. ‘The tents held up well.’
Ulixes’s brow furrowed. ‘It’s not just a wind, it’s a storm. These things can uproot trees, suffocate animals, bury whole villages.’
‘And I thought sea storms were bad. What do you suggest?’
‘We need shelter for the night. Proper shelter.’
‘Are there no villages, inns?’
‘On the Incense Road? Not many. Settlements are few and far between, only at springs or oases.’
‘But it’s a trade route,’ said Cassius. ‘Surely there must be stopping points for the caravans.’
‘The Saracens don’t need stopping points. They make their own camps and they always know how to find water or shelter if they need it. The Incense Road is not a Roman road – it twists and turns and in parts almost disappears. Anyway, there’s a tower used as a tax post where we leave the Via Traiana. We may be able to get some information there.’
Indavara and Simo had tied their reins around a nearby rock. Cassius wandered over and looked on as they ignored their horses in favour of Patch.
‘How’s your friend?’
‘Not himself today, sir,’ said Simo.
‘How can you tell?’
‘He’s off his food. Staying clear of the horses.’
‘Inferiority complex?’
Indavara frowned. Simo took a bowl from a saddlebag and filled it with water for the mule.
‘Difficult life, I suppose,’ added Cassius as he sat down on a conveniently smooth boulder. ‘Carrying things around all day, getting hit if you don’t do as you’re bid.’
‘Pretty similar to a slave,’ said Indavara.
Ulixes sat on another stone close by and took off his boots. Cassius noted that they were in as poor condition as the rest of his kit, with barely any tread left on the sole.
Simo put the water down in front of the mule. It sniffed it, looked up at him, then turned away. Indavara offered some dried apple but Patch wasn’t interested in that either. Cassius thought it all rather strange; their attachment to this lowly animal. He could just about understand it with horses – they were noble, impressive creatures. But a mule? They really were a simple-minded pair.
‘Why not try a prayer or offering to Epona?’
Indavara brightened. ‘The goddess of horses.’
‘Yes,’ said Cassius. ‘Not sure if she watches over mules.’
‘What about them?’ said Ulixes, pointing south.
The camels weren’t actually on the road; they were on the opposite side, lolloping across the softer ground in ranks of three. The column stretched back such a long way that Cassius at first thought it was a caravan. Only when they were closer did he spy the imperial standard being carried by the central rider in the first rank. The camels were lightly loaded and many of the men carried spears and bows instead of swords.
Having ensured all the horses and mules were under control, Mercator loped over to Cassius. He had to shout to be heard. ‘I’ve seen them a few times in the north but they spend most of their time down here. See the big fellow closest to us?’
On the right side of the standard-bearer was a broad, bearded character on a similarly sturdy camel. His robes were the same as the other riders. His scarlet cape was not.
‘Decurion Viridio – his men are known throughout the province. They’re based at Sadaqa, probably on their way back there now.’
Viridio raised an arm. His steed and the other two in the front rank broke into a run and the rest of the riders immediately followed. Cassius almost laughed: the manic, arrhythmic gait of the camels looked bizarre. But the column was soon up to full speed and galloping away at an impressive rate. He and the others turned away as the dust rolled up from the ground.
Yorvah strode up to Mercator with a beaming smile. ‘Never thought I’d see Viridio in the flesh. I’d heard he was big.’
‘See his men?’ replied Mercator. ‘Not one of them yapping, not one camel out of line.’
‘Quite a sight, I must admit,’ said Cassius.
‘You know what they did during the Palmyran attack, sir?’ asked Yorvah.
‘No.’
‘They fought one battle in the morning – killed scores of Palmyrans and lost a quarter of their number. Then they rode twenty miles and fought another battle in the afternoon. Brilliant bowmen. Very hard to bring down, camels.’
Cassius looked at the distant sky. The clouds showed no sign of breaking up. ‘Rest’s over. On we go.’
The tower was situated within the apex of the two routes (the Incense Road led south, the Via Traiana continued south-west to Aila) and constructed of the same white rock used at Humeima. Ten yards high and five wide, it was square in shape with a flat, open roof. To the rear was a timber shelter housing several horses and a water channel running to an outcrop of rock and some unseen cistern.
Half a dozen legionaries sat or lay close to the doorway. One was dozing, several were playing a game that involved throwing pebbles into a jug. A few yards away was a table where a young clerk sat hunched over a leather-bound book.
Resisting the temptation to admonish the soldiers for their slovenly manner, Cassius told Mercator to halt the men and guided his horse towards the tower. He had found the mare to be an obedient beast, so once on the ground let it stand untended.
‘Good day.’
The legionaries ignored him but the young clerk looked up.
‘Good day.’
The party had passed several way-stations while on the Via Traiana but Cassius recognised this as something different. Any goods coming up the Incense Road would be liable to pay import tax – the twenty-five per cent levy on products entering the Empire.
The clerk looked barely out of his teens. He had a few spots on his chin and several tufts of wispy hair that in no way constituted a beard. ‘Heading south?’
‘Yes. Hegra.’
‘You do know there are only three army post
s beyond this point? Well, two now.’
‘Two?’ asked Mercator as he arrived. Cassius rather wished he had stayed with the others.
‘The fort at Ruwaffa was attacked,’ said the clerk. ‘Almost an entire century wiped out.’
Cassius tried to look as surpised as the optio.
‘Must be more than a week ago now,’ added the youth.
‘Who did it?’ asked Mercator.
‘Bloody Saracens. Always trying to get out of paying their taxes. Now this.’
Mercator looked along the road.
‘Did you see the camel-riders?’ asked the clerk. ‘Extra security. Usually it’s just me and a couple of sentries.’
Cassius asked, ‘Is there anywhere we might find shelter for the night?’
The clerk seemed to enjoy dispensing bad news. ‘Just desert between here and the Wadi Rum.’
One of the legionaries sauntered over, tapping his belt with his thumbs. He was a portly man with a heavy jaw and little hair. He nodded at Cassius’s bracelets. ‘If I were you, I’d be careful showing off that gold. Especially if you’ve got more tucked away somewhere.’
‘Just this.’
‘You told them about Ruwaffa?’ the soldier asked the clerk.
‘I did.’
The legionary glanced at the men. ‘At least you’ve got a few swords with you. After somewhere for the night?’
‘Yes.’
‘You’ve left it a bit late. There’re some decent inns in Humeima.’
‘Too much of a detour,’ said Cassius. ‘There’s nowhere else?’
‘Depends how you feel about the quality of your accommodation.’
‘Go on.’
‘This end of the road has a few watchtowers like this. See there?’
The legionary pointed south. Two or three miles away was an upright shape beside the road. ‘That’s the next one. Hasn’t been used for years but it’ll be a roof over your heads. There’s even a little stable though you won’t get all your mounts in.’
Cassius turned to the tower only a few yards away. ‘I don’t suppose we could use this.’
‘Sorry,’ said the legionary. ‘Regulations. We’ll be locking up before we leave.’