by Brown, Nick
He hobbled back to the divide and checked outside. He could no longer hear the voices but the lights were close. Only then did he look down at Simo and the guard. The man’s eyes were closed and he was no longer shaking. His head was still in the Gaul’s lap.
‘Simo.’
He was whispering prayers.
‘We have to go. The shaking’s stopped. He’ll be all right.’
Simo seemed not to have heard him.
‘He’ll be all right. Come now. I am your master and I order it.’
Simo ceased his prayers and gently lowered the guard’s head to the floor. He stood up.
‘You go through first.’
Simo took a last look at the guard.
Cassius coaxed him towards the rear of the stall. ‘He’ll be all right. We have to go. He’ll be all right.’
Having donned his armour and grabbed a few other essentials, Gutha swapped the tribesman’s horse for his own and rode swiftly to the outer gate. Waiting there were Reyazz and several dozen men.
‘Gutha.’ Oblachus appeared from somewhere, waving his stick. ‘Do they have the stone?’
‘Quiet.’
‘It’s true, then,’ replied the older man softly. ‘Two of the thieving bastards are still here. I have men searching for them now. They killed Theomestor too – those Syrian mercenaries who were with Uruwat’s lot.’
Gutha leaned down towards him. ‘Uruwat, Enzarri and Mushannaf are dead. They tried to assassinate Ilaha.’
Oblachus cursed and wiped sweat from his hairless head.
‘Now listen to me,’ added Gutha. ‘You must gather all our men and work with Kalderon. Once the warriors from their tribes hear their ethnarchs are dead, we may have a problem. And the last thing we need is for them to find out the stone has gone. Keep it quiet. You may search for the traitors but do nothing to spark an incident. We must maintain calm.’
‘Understood.’ Oblachus limped away.
Reyazz hurried over, towing his mount.
‘You saw them up close,’ said Gutha. ‘How many?’
‘They had around thirty but most of them were killed at the inner gate and here. No more than ten left.’
‘Who do you think they are? These so-called mercenaries?’
‘I don’t know, sir. I think I heard some Latin but it may have been Greek.’
Gutha waved the young engineer closer. ‘All your work with the rock, moving it to the platform. You must have known of Ilaha’s deception.’
Guilt flashed across Reyazz’s face. ‘Commander, I – I just wanted to serve him and Mighty Elagabal as best I could.’
‘Is that right?’
Reyazz looked away, then pointed at the men gathered behind him. ‘We have forty warriors, sir. I can get more but—’
‘There’s no time; and I don’t want some great mob. Food and water?’
‘Yes, sir – enough for several days if we need it.’
‘We won’t.’
Cassius sat back against the rock wall. Despite the cold of the night, his tunic was sodden with sweat. Simo took a flask of water from his pack and handed it to him. Cassius drank too quickly and had to stifle a cough. Only when the discomfort had passed could he finish drinking. He loosened his belt and leaned sideways against his pack.
Once into the storeroom they had entered a kitchen. They had unbolted the door then crept out into the side street. By using the darkness and timing their movements, they had evaded the guards and made their way up to the canyon wall.
‘How is your ankle, sir?’
It was the first thing Simo had said since the outhouse.
‘I had to do something.’
The Gaul didn’t reply.
‘He would have raised the alarm. It was him or us.’
Simo remained silent.
‘Speak, damn you.’
When no reply came, Cassius turned and slapped Simo across the face. He had never hit him before.
‘Speak. I command it.’
‘What would like me to say, sir?’ Even then, he somehow managed not to sound insolent.
‘I had to do it. I had to do it or we’d both be dead.’
‘I am ready for death, sir. I am ready for the Kingdom.’
Cassius almost laughed. ‘You are a fool, Simo. And a coward. And you are no use to me here.’
‘Because I will not help you kill?’ Simo took no care with his tone this time.
‘Address me correctly, damn you, or I’ll keep striking you until you do.’
‘Sorry. Sir.’
Cassius took a while to reply. ‘Your faith has blinded you, Simo. Tell me – where is the sense in valuing the lives of others if you do not value your own?’
Simo was praying again.
‘Ah, waste your breath if you must. It saves me having to talk to you.’
Cassius looked down at the town. The lights told the story. Lanterns, lamps and torches were clustered together and moving slowly. Order had been restored. Though bitter smoke still drifted across Galanaq, all the fires were out. As for the encampment, he could see many lights there too and a lot of movement.
Now information was everything; and he needed to know more. If the assassination attempt had succeeded, he could make contact with Uruwat, Enzarri or Mushannaf. If it had failed, he might be turned over to Ilaha. He could not risk entering the camp yet.
Cassius used the wall to get to his feet, shrugging off Simo’s helping hand. ‘We shall shelter in that tomb we used yesterday. If they haven’t found us by daylight, at least we’ll be able to see what’s going on.’
He pulled on his pack and managed two steps before stumbling. Simo grabbed his belt and kept him on his feet.
‘Please allow me to help you, sir. Just let me put my pack on.’
Cassius said nothing, but he waited and put his hand over Simo’s shoulder once more. As they struggled on along the canyon wall, he continued to look down at the camp, but they were too far away to tell who were guards and who were tribesmen, let alone to which clan they might belong.
At last they reached the tomb. The interior was darker than the sky, darker even than the rock face itself. Cassius knew Simo had his fire-striker and candles with him but they couldn’t risk it outside.
‘There was a turn to the right after about twenty feet. We shall go in as far as we can. You first.’
Simo helped his master up the high step then advanced slowly into the tomb.
One hand flat against the cool, rough rock, Cassius limped after him. He had counted eight paces when Simo cried out.
Something struck Cassius in the face. As he tottered backwards, his ankle gave way and he fell onto his backside.
‘Where are you?’ demanded a voice in the darkness. ‘Where are you?’
‘Simo, what—’
Something heavy landed on Cassius’s chest. Scrabbling fingers reached for him. He lashed out and caught his assailant on the head but the fingers were now around his neck and tightening. Spit landed on his face.
‘Why are you alive? Why you?’
Cassius recognised the voice but more pressing concerns prevented him from working out who it was. He gripped the man’s wrists and tried to wrench them away but the attacker was heavy and strong; stronger than him.
He heard movement, then an impact. The assailant groaned and suddenly the weight was gone.
‘Sir.’
Simo reached down and took his hand. Cassius got to his knees then Simo helped him to his feet. They retreated side by side.
‘You,’ cried the voice, more desperate than angry now. ‘Why you and not him?’
Cassius drew his dagger. ‘I have a blade. Come near us and I’ll cut you.’
The man groaned again.
Cassius stopped. ‘Wait, Simo.’ He could hear crying.
‘Why him?’ implored the voice.
‘Gods. Khalima?’
He had been hiding deep within the tomb, and led Cassius and Simo around three more turns to a small chamber. They sat
there in silence while the attendant took out his fire-starting kit. Cassius knew from experience that despite his other deficiencies, Simo could carry out the whole procedure even in this utter darkness. Before long the striker was clashing against the flint. At the second attempt, Simo lit some kindling, then a candle.
Khalima was in a bad way. A gash across his forehead was oozing blood and he had several more cuts on his hands and arms. His tunic had been torn down the middle, exposing his muscled chest and considerable paunch. His face was paler than the rest of him.
‘What the …?’
Cassius felt a presence close by, as if someone had crept up next to him. He turned and saw a body lying not two yards away. He scrabbled backwards until he was pressed against the wall beside Simo.
‘Oh my Lord,’ said the Gaul.
Khalima was gazing at the candle. ‘My boy. He came to my aid but he’d been cut close to the heart. He died just after we got here.’
Adayyid was lying on his back at the far end of the chamber, his head turned away from them.
Cassius could find no adequate words.
‘The others?’ he said eventually.
Khalima seemed entranced by the flower of light. Blood trickled between his eyes and onto his nose. ‘My stupidity, my greed, has cost them all their lives.’
‘What about Uruwat? Enzarri?’
‘I have seen no sign of them. The German and his men remain in control. I believe the ethnarchs must have failed. I believe Ilaha is still alive.’
Cassius squeezed his eyes shut and bowed his head. In what was looking like an increasingly hopeless situation for him, his allies and the entire bloody province for that matter, he had been allowed one small blessing: time to think. He resolved to do exactly that.
‘How did you get up here?’ Simo asked Khalima after a while.
‘Reinforcements came from the cavern, led by the German. Adayyid and I got past him and through the gate. There were guards everywhere but they were occupied by the fire. We followed the inner wall up to the side of the canyon then came here. After Adayyid took his last breath I wept awhile. And then I heard you.’
Khalima looked at his son’s body. ‘Can you cover him with something?’
‘Of course.’
Simo took a blanket from his pack and gently laid it over Adayyid’s head and lean frame.
‘That is a deep cut,’ he told Khalima. ‘May I treat you?’
‘It matters not.’
‘Please.’
‘There is no point.’
‘Let him help you, Khalima,’ said Cassius.
‘They will come for us, Roman. You know they will.’
‘They’re not here yet.’
Khalima gave in.
Simo wetted a cloth and cleaned the wound. ‘There is dirt and hair in there. I shall have to pick it out.’
Cassius wasn’t watching. He had his eyes shut again, and by the time he opened them, Simo had treated and dressed the wound.
‘Sir, I should check your ankle.’
‘Not now.’
‘Look at the state of us,’ said Khalima. ‘We won’t even be able to put up a fight.’
‘Fighting can’t save us now anyway,’ replied Cassius.
‘Nothing can.’
‘Having given the matter some consideration, I’m not entirely sure that’s true.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I think you’re correct to surmise that the assassination attempt failed. Which almost certainly means that Uruwat, Mushannaf and Enzarri are dead. Their warriors will want to know what happened and there’s no real reason for Ilaha to keep it secret. Even if the men of their three tribes want revenge, there aren’t enough of them to take on Ilaha’s men and the warriors of the loyal ethnarchs – who will probably be even more loyal now.’
Khalima shook his head. ‘This was madness. We have made his position even stronger.’
‘But he has lost his precious stone. That he will try and keep quiet as long as possible. Some of the guards will know already, of course, but he can keep that contained. But the other tribes? All that talk of the sun god favouring him, of their fates being tied together …’
Khalima was starting to look a little more hopeful.
‘Uruwat’s men,’ said Cassius. ‘Would they betray you?’
‘That depends on Urunike – he is in charge now.’
‘Might he be persuaded to help us?’
‘His father has just been killed. I imagine he might.’
Cassius leaned forward. ‘Then we may still have a chance of ridding this province of Ilaha and escaping this place alive.’
‘Go on.’
‘It’s simple. You just tell Urunike and the men of your tribe that the black stone has been taken. And you ask them to pass it on into every inn and every house and every tent until by dawn there isn’t a single person in Galanaq who doesn’t know.’
‘And then?’
‘It’s hard to predict what will happen. But one thing’s certain: Lord Ilaha, we and everyone else will discover if Mighty Elagabal really is on his side.’
XXXIII
It was Ulixes who finally called a halt. They hadn’t stopped once and the weary horses pulling the cart were beginning to falter and drift alarmingly close to the cliff-edge. The auxiliaries were so intent on escaping that Indavara had to bellow at them to stop. Ulixes threw down the reins then dropped to the ground. Mercator trotted back to the cart with Yorvah and Andal, who had opened the shutter of the lantern he was carrying. Mercator saw the condition of the horses and instructed the guard officers to swap them. Three of the men were leading fresh mounts for this very purpose.
‘Third one’s for me,’ said Ulixes as he checked his money bag was still secure inside his tunic. ‘I’ve done more than my bit – this is where we part company.’
‘You’re bloody handy with that cart,’ said Mercator. ‘Why not stay with us?’
‘How about an angry German giant and however many hundred warriors he has with him?’ Ulixes pointed down the trail. The dots of lights were quite clear. ‘I doubt we’ve more than half an hour on them now. Unless you leave the cart, of course. Then we can all make it.’
Indavara jumped down beside the ex-legionary. ‘We came here for the stone.’
‘And Khalima and his men probably gave their lives to help us get it out,’ added Mercator.
‘Eager to join them?’ said Ulixes.
Mercator called out to one of the auxiliaries, who brought over the last spare horse.
Ulixes briefly checked the animal over then mounted up. ‘Go on for now if you must, but if they get close, ride for your lives.’ He nodded at the back of the cart. ‘That thing’s not worth dying for.’
‘You still here?’ said Indavara.
With a final shake of his head, Ulixes set off up the slope.
While Mercator took charge, Indavara grabbed one of the lanterns and climbed into the back of the cart. Trying his best to ignore all thoughts of the stone, he stepped over the injured man and knelt beside the wooden box. Corbulo had said it contained some ‘surprises’ for anyone that pursued them. Indavara opened it and examined the contents, then called out to Mercator. ‘How long to the Step?’
‘Maybe half an hour.’
‘We’ll stop there. Briefly.’
‘Why?’
‘You’ll see.’
Khalima survived his covert trip to the encampment unscathed.
‘Well?’ Cassius asked as the Saracen sat down in the chamber. He had regained a little colour but the bandage upon his forehead was red with blood. He took a long drink of water before answering.
‘Fortunately for us the guards seem wary of searching the camp and provoking the tribesmen. There’s a lot of confusion – no one knows what’s happening or who they can trust.’
‘And Urunike?’
‘He’d already been told of his father’s death but not about the loss of the stone. He and Mushannaf and Enzarri’s tribes are bi
ding their time. They have assured Oblachus they knew nothing of the plot – which is largely true – and will not act against Ilaha.’
‘But did—’
‘Yes, he has agreed to help. He has sent out men to do as you asked.’
‘Subtly, I trust.’
‘Urunike is no fool,’ replied Khalima sharply. ‘And we have good cause to be thankful to him. He would even help us escape if there was a way out. But Oblachus has stationed a hundred men at both gates and is guarding the Goat Trail too. Rumour has it the German has gone after the stone.’
‘Not much we can do about that,’ said Cassius, wondering how far Indavara and the others might have got.
‘But he may return with it,’ said Khalima. ‘And it’s only a matter of time until they search up here.’
‘True. It had already occurred to me that we might have to … move things along.’
‘How?’
‘We will need not only Urunike’s help but the men of the other two tribes as well.’
‘What do you have in mind?’
‘Lord Ilaha has shown himself to be rather adept at manipulating the masses. Let’s see how he responds to a taste of his own medicine.’
Ideally, Gutha would not have hurried. Ideally, he would have run down the thieves in his own time, arriving with the men fresh and ready to fight. But – as was invariably the case – things were far from ideal and he needed to get back to Galanaq as soon as possible.
Ilaha didn’t seem in any fit state to lead and though Kalderon and several of the other ethnarchs were firmly onside, it was hard to predict what the others might do, especially if they learned the stone had been taken. The situation was a mess; but restoring order was no longer Gutha’s problem. What he would need, however, was enough time to exchange the stone for the mask and safely make his escape. Once that was done, the travails of the Tanukh, Ilaha and that insane old bitch would soon be nothing but a memory.
As the horses ahead slowed, Reyazz dropped back to speak to him.
‘We are nearing the Step, Commander. A suitable spot for an ambush. Shall we dismount – send scouts?’
‘There is no time for that. We must press on.’