by Brown, Nick
‘Really, sir?’
‘Believe me, I’d prefer not to but there’s no other way.’
‘What if someone sees us?’
‘That is why we must go now,’ said Cassius as he pulled the hood up over his head. ‘Everyone is watching him.’
Indavara and Mercator looked on as Andal inspected the auxiliary’s shoulder. As exhausted as the rest of them, the soldier – who was named Damon – had strayed too close to the rear of the cart. The wheel had shaved one of his mount’s front legs, causing the horse to stumble and throw him. The horse seemed unhurt but Damon had landed awkwardly on the rocky ground. The shoulder was badly cut and bruising was already coming through.
Mercator looked back along the road. ‘How far ahead do you think we are?’
‘An hour if we’re lucky,’ said Indavara.
‘And they have the whole bloody day to run us down.’
Mercator turned back the other way. Less than a mile ahead were the soaring walls of the Scorpion Pass.
‘You thinking what I’m thinking?’ asked Indavara.
‘We’re still a long way from open ground. We keep riding, we’ll just get more and more tired and they hit us when they choose.’
‘We’ve taken out quite a few already. At least we’ll get time to prepare; choose our own ground.’
‘I’ll tell the men.’
Indavara almost felt relieved. They could stop looking over their shoulders at last; the pursuit would come down to a simple, stand-up fight.
His thoughts turned to the others. Though he knew it would be light at Galanaq too, he somehow still imagined Corbulo and Simo being pursued through the darkened streets. Corbulo was a crafty sod – and perhaps Khalima or some of the others would help them – but however he looked at it, he couldn’t find much hope that he would see his friends again.
The soldiers broke up and hurried towards their horses. Indavara ran over to join them. If they couldn’t prevail, he, Mercator and the auxiliaries would never see anyone else again.
Cassius felt barely in control of his bowels as he hobbled across the sandy ground towards the crowd. There were, however, more new arrivals and no one took any notice of the two hooded men joining the throng. Cassius supposed it might have been wise to put his mail-shirt back on but it was unlikely to make much difference now.
Just as on the previous day, every pair of eyes was fixed on the compelling figure standing before them. Though pale and drawn, Ilaha stood proudly, chin held high as he addressed the crowd in a conciliatory tone. The Saracens listened respectfully.
Cassius was looking for Khalima but many of the warriors also had their hoods up and he didn’t want to draw attention to himself. Someone tugged on his sleeve. He turned and saw a familiar face: Urunike. The young chief nodded towards the gate and Cassius spied a squat figure ahead.
When he arrived next to the Saracen and drew back his hood, Khalima shook his head in disbelief. ‘By all the gods, I didn’t think you’d actually come down here.’
Cassius whispered, ‘What’s Ilaha saying?’
‘He has spoken about the assassination attempt and the death of the ethnarchs. He holds no grudge against the sons or the tribesmen and hopes they will now join him and the rest of the Tanukh in the struggle against Rome. He denies that the black stone has gone.’
Khalima paused to listen before continuing. ‘He says there is no time for a ceremony now, that we must put all our energies into finding the saboteurs who set the fire. Gutha is pursuing some but others may be hiding here.’
When Ilaha briefly paused, a big warrior from Mushannaf’s tribe shouted out.
Khalima translated. ‘He claims one of the guards admitted to him that the stone has been stolen.’
Ilaha offered an appeasing smile before replying. Khalima waited until he’d finished.
‘He told Mushannaf’s man to be careful with his words. He risks offending Mighty Elagabal and should pay no heed to these lies.’
Cassius glanced around. No one else seemed keen to persist, not even the ethnarchs. The eight men remained easily identifiable – they were the only ones on horseback.
‘Are you ready?’ Cassius asked Khalima.
‘Yes, I have it. But are you sure about this?’
‘If he wins this crowd over, all is lost. It’s now or never, I’m afraid.’
The Saracen closed his eyes and muttered a quiet prayer.
‘Khalima, if this goes badly – kill me.’
‘What?’
‘Torture – I can’t face it. Slit my throat. Promise me you’ll do it.’
Those amber eyes searched Cassius’s and saw that he could not have been more serious. ‘Very well. And I shall slit my own a moment later.’ He pulled his hood forward to ensure it still covered his bandaged head.
Cassius looked up at the sky. The sun had reappeared from behind a cloud, once more bathing the valley in light.
He nudged Simo. ‘You remember what to do?’
Simo wiped his brow, took two paces forward, then turned towards his master.
Ilaha was speaking again.
Cassius whispered a prayer to Jupiter then pulled down his hood and shouted in Greek: ‘There is a traitor here!’
Ilaha stopped mid-sentence, then shielded his eyes and peered at the figure twenty yards away in the middle of the crowd. ‘Who are you?’
All those close by turned to look.
Cassius’s throat felt as dry as sand but he got his words out. ‘Nobody special. But I can identify the traitor.’
Ilaha hesitated, then gestured towards him. ‘Show us.’
‘I do not need to. Mighty Elagabal will show us all.’
‘What do you mean?’
At a nod from Cassius, Simo and Khalima held up the small, circular mirrors of red-tinged glass each had just taken from their tunics. Khalima angled his so that the sunlight from above was reflected onto Simo’s.
Several of the nearby warriors moved away.
Despite his trembling hand, Cassius positioned his mirror opposite Simo’s, then aimed the beam at Ilaha. In the shadows of the wall, the light could easily be seen playing over his body and face.
Ilaha held up an arm to protect his eyes. ‘What … who are you?’
Oblachus hauled himself up onto the cart to get a better look.
Cassius let the light shine on Ilaha a little longer then lowered the mirror.
Once Oblachus caught sight of him, he bellowed at his guards to advance.
‘Let him speak!’ shouted Urunike, and many others took up his cry. The guards and Kalderon’s men were about to try to force their way through when Ilaha raised his hands. The crowd quietened once more. Ignoring the protests of Oblachus, Ilaha stared at Cassius, fists clenched. ‘Who are you?’
Cassius reached into the satchel, pulled out the spearhead and lifted it high. ‘My name is Cassius Corbulo. I am a Roman soldier.’
He ignored the gasps and jeers. ‘I was sent here to recover the black stone for the Emperor. My men are returning it to Emesa as we speak.’
‘He lies!’ thundered Ilaha.
Dozens of shouts rang out, ceasing only when Oblachus and the ethnarchs restored order amongst their men.
‘No. You are the liar,’ replied Cassius, lowering the spearhead and holding up the mirror once more. ‘I found these hidden inside the stone.’ He pointed up at the body hanging from the wall. ‘You used them yesterday to identify that supposed spy while I and my men stood untouched. If you let us through the gates I can also show how you created that voice.’
‘Kill him!’ raged Ilaha. ‘Kill him!’
At Oblachus’s order, the guards drew their swords. Kalderon did so too and cried out to his men. The tribesmen facing them seemed unsure what to do but Urunike’s warriors already had their weapons ready and had closed in around Khalima, Cassius and Simo.
Cassius glimpsed a flash of movement to the right. With scant regard for his own safety, the bearded ethnarch Yemanek was driving his ho
rse towards the gate. Warriors and guards scattered as he forced his way between them.
Once he had separated the two factions, Yemanek wheeled his horse around. ‘Lord Ilaha, we must hear this man speak.’
Ilaha seemed unable to do anything but retreat to the back of the cart, arms wrapped around himself. Oblachus attempted to speak to Yemanek but the ethnarch silenced him with a word, then turned to Cassius.
‘Well, Roman?’
Cassius was surrounded by Urunike’s men, their shoulders pressed against his, a forest of swords raised high. He had to cough spit into his mouth to keep talking.
‘I did not come here to act against the Tanukh – only to reclaim the stone. Governor Calvinus wants peace.’ He pointed at Ilaha. ‘This liar wishes only to lead you into a senseless war.’
‘Any man who protects him will be killed!’ shrieked Ilaha.
‘It is you that should be killed!’ answered Urunike.
A spear flew through the air.
Ilaha threw himself to one side and fell from the cart.
Oblachus ordered the guards to attack.
But now all the other ethnarchs had reached the gate. Showing remarkable horsemanship, they lined up on either side of Yemanek, keeping the two sides apart.
As the Saracens surged past him, Cassius was almost knocked to the ground. He glimpsed Ilaha’s purple cloak as Oblachus and a few others retreated, pulling the doors behind them.
Even the most committed of the remaining guards weren’t prepared to challenge the ethnarchs, who maintained their position until the doors were shut. Yemanek then dismounted and spoke to Kalderon. Heavily outnumbered and facing a man who still hadn’t drawn his sword, Kalderon eventually lowered his blade. His warriors and the guards followed.
Cassius turned around. There were hundreds more of Ilaha’s men in the crowd but they were split into groups and didn’t seem keen to take on the other tribesmen.
Yemanek remounted his horse and shouted to Urunike. ‘Bring the Roman to us. He will address the Tanukh.’
They found Ulixes on the far side of the pass. He was sitting against a boulder, his horse wandering aimlessly. Once off their mounts, Indavara and the others hurried over to him. The ex-legionary’s left hand had swollen to double the normal size; upon his palm was a livid red circle.
‘Scorpion?’ asked Andal.
The gambler let his head rest on the boulder. ‘Horse threw me. Next thing I knew my hand was on fire. Never even saw it. I can feel the poison spreading through me. Anyone want this …?’
Ulixes took the bag of coins from his tunic and threw it. The bag landed amidst the auxiliaries and a few of the gold aurei spilled out.
‘… because it’s of no bloody use to me. All that waiting, then I finally get what’s owed me and this happens.’ He looked up at the sky. ‘I hate the gods. Every last stinking, useless bloody one of them!’
Indavara exchanged a glance with Mercator and the optio led the men away to get organised. Andal picked up the money and dropped it at Ulixes’s feet.
‘What are you lot doing anyway?’ asked the gambler.
‘Making a stand here,’ said Indavara.
‘Still no sign of your master?’
‘No.’
Ulixes gave a bitter smile. ‘You never had a chance. That ruthless son of a bitch Abascantius should never have sent you down here. He never was one to worry about the poor sods at the sharp end.’
‘Will you fight with us?’ asked Indavara. ‘We could use another sword.’
‘I’ll probably be dead by the time they turn up,’ said Ulixes, wincing as he moved the afflicted hand.
‘If you’re not?’
‘What do I care who loses or wins that stupid stone? I’m a dead man anyway. I’ll sit this one out.’
Indavara wasn’t about to waste any more time on him. He went over to Mercator, who was helping the injured Damon up onto the cart. The other wounded auxiliary was still in the back and it had been agreed that they would continue on with the stone. The other horses had been tethered a hundred yards along the road.
‘Keep going until you reach the mushroom,’ instructed Mercator. ‘If we haven’t caught up by tomorrow head for Humeima. Don’t stop for anyone or anything.’
The pair set off.
Indavara couldn’t believe how few of them were left: himself, Mercator, Andal plus four men – Bucoli, Nobus, Itys and Pelagius. All five auxiliaries were looking at the Scorpion Pass.
Indavara unbuckled his belt, pulled off the tunic with the solar symbol and threw it onto his pack. Mercator was squatting close by, checking their two bows. Indavara knelt next to him and began inspecting their meagre stash of arrows.
Mercator looked at the men then spoke quietly. ‘Did we just make a big mistake?’
‘We have one advantage,’ said Indavara. ‘We can hold our ground. They want that stone, they’re going to have to come through us.’
Cassius and Simo were waiting inside a small tent close to a large one – the largest within Yemanek’s camp. The nine ethnarchs – Kalderon included – were already there
With the initial sense of relief fading, Cassius knew he now faced another task of the utmost difficulty. He imagined Ulixes would have been impressed by the result of his last-ditch gamble but if what followed went badly, he, Simo and Khalima might not see out the day. The Gaul knew when to leave his master alone and hadn’t spoken a word, merely finding him a barrel to sit on and some water to drink.
Cassius had no idea how the meeting would go but he was determined to strike the right balance between reverence and strength. If he didn’t appear humble before the leaders of this ancient confederation, they might easily string him up and persist with the rebellion, with or without Ilaha. On the other hand, if he didn’t convince them he had the power to negotiate and the ear of the governor, they wouldn’t take him seriously (and might still string him up). Nobody looked particularly favourably on spies, especially if they were also thieves; and if the ethnarchs took against him, surely Khalima and his allies would be powerless to do anything.
Simo had taken a spare tunic from Cassius’s pack and replaced the smelly, filthy one he’d been wearing. He was just about able to keep his boot on over the sprained ankle if the laces were loose. He checked his belt and stood.
‘Sir, perhaps a little food to settle your stomach.’
Cassius’s expression gave Simo his answer. He took the spearhead from him.
‘Sir, what you did was very brave.’
‘It might have been if I’d had any choice.’
‘I wonder what’s happened to the others.’
‘Who knows? But I pray they’ve got clear – and not only for their sakes. If that German bastard returns with the stone this situation could reverse itself very quickly.’
The tent flap opened and Khalima came in. His sword and dagger were gone. Blood was seeping through the bandage around his head and mixing with sweat upon his brow.
‘They want to see you now. Leave your weapons here.’
Cassius raised his arms as Simo removed his dagger and sword. ‘Will you come in with me?’
‘I cannot. They will deal with me later.’
‘I’ll be alone?’
‘They’re not even allowing Urunike in – the sons are yet to be formally recognised by the Confederation. Come, you must not keep them waiting.’
‘Any advice?’
‘Tell the truth – or as much as you can.’ Khalima lowered his voice. ‘Our agreement—’
‘Of course. I should speak Greek?’
‘Yes.’
As they walked outside, Cassius looked around. Men bearing the yellow cloths of Yemanek’s tribe had formed a cordon around the centre of the camp. Beyond them was a sea of faces, including men from every one of the other twelve clans.
Two bulky guards were standing outside the large tent. Four more swiftly appeared and surrounded Khalima. The Saracen stopped and did his best not to look concerned. ‘Go on.’
>
Cassius hobbled to the entrance but the guards didn’t move. Then, without a word, one darted forward and grabbed him. It took a moment for Cassius to realise the man was just patting him down, checking for weapons. Once he’d finished, the second man pulled two thick curtains aside and Cassius went in.
The nine ethnarchs were all standing. Most had plenty of grey in their beards and plenty of gold on their fingers and wrists. Their tunics and cloaks were of opulent reds and blues, their weapons encrusted with gems. The burly Yemanek was standing slightly ahead of the others. Kalderon – smaller but no less intimidating – was to Cassius’s left, dark eyes fixed upon him.
Cassius bowed low. ‘It is an honour to be summoned before the ethnarchs of the Tanukh.’
Kalderon snorted and tapped his belt impatiently. Cassius dragged his eyes off the Saracen’s curved dagger.
‘Do not insult our intelligence,’ said Yemanek calmly. ‘You are a spy and a thief.’
‘Perhaps,’ conceded Cassius. He held up the spearhead. ‘But I am also a member of Governor Calvinus’s provincial staff.’
‘Show me that,’ said Yemanek. Cassius gave it to him.
The ethnarch examined it then passed it to the others. ‘Why are you still here if your men have escaped with the stone?’
‘I was injured and had to remain behind. Fortunately, it gave me a chance to intervene and expose Ilaha.’
‘Probably the only way for you to save your own skin,’ said one of the other ethnarchs.
‘Also true,’ admitted Cassius.
‘What does Calvinus know of Ilaha?’ asked Yemanek.
‘Very little. All we had was some intelligence that the stone was in Galanaq.’
‘And it seems you had some help getting in here,’ said another of the Saracens.
Only now did Cassius truly appreciate Khalima’s predicament. Regardless of the outcome, he had betrayed his own to assist a Roman agent. Cassius realised he hadn’t asked about their deal out of greed – but because he couldn’t be sure of his own fate.
‘Khalima did aid us, yes.’
‘Was he paid?’ asked another man.
‘At no point has he acted against the interests of his tribe or the Tanukh.’