Centurion c-8

by Simon Scarrow

  'If we don't trust Balthus, we should send one of our men in with his courier. Just to make sure he doesn't go astray, and that the citadel's defenders are ready for us.'

  Macro considered the suggestion for a moment and then looked at Cato with a sad, weary expression. 'I know what you're going to say. I know it before you even open your mouth.You're not going.Your men need you. Frankly, I need you. There's going to be action tonight, and I would feel easier about it if I knew the Second Illyrian was safe in your hands.'

  Cato stared at his friend for a moment and his heart filled with affection for the gruff, honest man who had taught him how to be a soldier, and how to be a leader of men. Macro was Cato's ideal. He was the true measure of a soldier in Cato's eyes, and the thought that Macro depended on him was an accolade far beyond praise from the veteran. Cato bit back on his pride and affection.

  'Centurion Parmenion can lead the men as well as me.'

  'No.' Macro shook his head and then grinned. 'He can do it better. I just don't like to be shown up. Far better to have you to compete against.'

  They laughed, and then Cato continued,'I have to go.To make sure that everything is ready from the other end. If we're going to be betrayed, better to lose me than both cohorts.'

  'How will I know if it's safe to go through with Balthus' plan?'

  'I've thought of that. If I make it through to the citadel then I'll have them light a beacon in the highest tower.You and Balthus rush the gate the moment you see it. If there's no signal by first light, then you'll have to accept that I've failed. Is that all right, sir?' The deferential tone was deliberate. Cato knew that the final decision was Macro's alone and if he refused then there was no further debating the matter.

  Macro rubbed the bristles on his cheek. 'Very well. Give Parmenion his orders and then report to me. I'll be with our friend the prince, deciding on our message to the king.'

  By the time Cato rejoined Macro the sun was low on the horizon and the evening shadows were creeping across the plain. One of Balthus' men was standing with his prince and Macro, holding some dark robes over his arm.

  'This is Carpex, one of my household slaves,' Balthus explained. 'He is as loyal a man as you can find.'

  'For a slave,' said Macro.

  'Yes. But I would trust him with my life,' Balthus said.

  'That's good. Because that's exactly what we are trusting him with.Yours, and ours.'

  Carpex gestured to the robes as he addressed Cato. 'You'll need to wear these, master. Better leave your armour and keep your weapons covered.The rest of your equipment has to be left behind.'

  'How are we going to get through to the citadel?' Cato asked.

  'There is a way,' said Balthus. 'A tunnel leading from one of the city's drains into the old stables of the citadel. They use the building as a barracks now, but Carpex and I discovered it when we were boys, and used to hide there to escape punishment.'

  'How mischievous of you,' said Macro. 'And when did you last use this tunnel?'

  'Ten years ago.' Balthus pursed his lips. 'Maybe more.'

  'I see. So there's no guarantee it hasn't been blocked up, or filled in, then?'

  'It's still there as far as I know.'

  'And if it isn't?' asked Cato.

  'Then we will have to try some other way.'

  'Fair enough.' Cato nodded.'We'll have to deal with that problem if it arises.'

  Macro shook his head. 'That's madness.'

  'Perhaps,' Cato admitted. 'But sometimes madness is all that's left.'

  'Oh, how very sage.'

  Cato shrugged and turned to the prince's slave. 'Where's the message?'

  Balthus pulled a waxed slate from his robes and handed it to Cato. 'Here.'

  'Is it, er, sufficiently clear?' Cato asked Macro.

  His friend smiled. 'It says all that it needs to. No surprises.'

  'Good,' Cato replied and tucked the waxed tablet into his haversack. Then he removed his helmet, cape, harness and armour and handed them to Macro, before leaning down to remove his silvered greaves. By the time he had put on the robes and fastened the band round his headdress he no longer looked so Roman, and he hoped that he would pass as a Palmyran subject – in the dark at least. As the sun eased itself down towards the horizon, Cato and Macro sat a short distance up the slope from the rest of the men. Almost as soon as he had propped himself up against a boulder, Macro fell asleep. His head lolled on his chest and he began to snore. Cato could not help smiling. Tired as his body was he could never sleep on the eve of any action, and his mind raced through seemingly disparate trains of thought. Now that the first thrill at the prospect of danger was over, Cato found that he was trembling and was aware that his knee was twitching in a frantic rhythm. He stared at it in surprise and had to force himself to stop the nervous tic.

  Then, for no accountable reason, the image of the man he had wounded flashed into his mind. He could see every detail of the fearful surprise in Primus' expression as the blade lodged deep in his shoulder. Primus had slipped into unconsciousness and died the day before, and was buried back in the desert under a pile of rocks to stop wild animals digging up his body. Cato had not seen him since the night of the fight, yet he was haunted by the image of the man he had wounded. At length he could bear it no longer and he nudged Macro.

  'Hey, wake up.'

  'Hmmm?' Macro mumbled, smacking his lips and turning slightly away from Cato. 'Fuck off, I'm asleep.'

  'No you're not. Come on, wake up. I need to talk. Sir?' Cato shook his shoulder gently.

  Macro stirred, blinked and eased himself up from the rock, wincing at the stiffness in his back. 'What? What is it, Cato?'

  Now that he had his friend's attention Cato was not sure where to begin. He swallowed nervously. 'Something happened the other night. When we ambushed the horse-archers. Something I haven't told you about.'

  'Oh? Well, what is it?'

  Cato breathed deeply and made himself confess. 'During the fight, I…I wounded one of my men. Ran him through with my sword.'

  Macro stared at him for a moment, then rubbed his eyes. 'You did what?'

  'I wounded one of my auxiliaries.'

  'Is he dead?'

  'Yes.'

  'Did he recognise you?'

  'Yes.' Cato recalled the man's accusing look, and shook off the memory with difficulty. 'I'm sure of it.'

  'Did he tell anyone about it?'

  'I don't know.'

  'Hmmm. Awkward. Normally it would just be one of those things. Accidents happen in the heat of battle, especially at night. But it still needs to be accounted for. It won't look good on your record if there's any kind of enquiry. Even if there isn't, word will get round, assuming the man spoke to anyone. You know how it is with the army's rumour mill. That's not going to go down well with your men. Nor mine, come to that. Not while the memory of that incident back at Antioch preys on their minds.'

  'But it was an accident,' Cato protested. 'It was dark. It was during a fight. I didn't mean to do it.'

  'I know that, lad. Trouble is that the boys in the Tenth Legion won't see it that way. They'll say that Crispus killed his man by accident and was executed for it.They're bound to ask why you shouldn't suffer the same fate. I know the circumstances are quite different, but that's the kind of detail that men ignore when they nurse a grievance and are out for revenge.'

  Cato was silent for a moment before he looked earnestly at his friend. 'What can I do?'

  'Not much. If Primus died without spilling his guts then you're in the clear.' Macro paused, and smiled. 'Well, hardly that. Knowing you as I do, you'll carry the burden of guilt with you to the grave. If Primus talked, then you'll be treated like a leper. Worse, you'll have to watch your back.'

  Cato felt sick at the prospect of being an outcast amongst his army comrades. He swallowed. 'I'd better make a clean breast of it, before any rumours start circulating. For the good of the cohort.'

  'Shit, Cato, there's no need to play the heroic martyr jus
t yet,' Macro responded irritably.'Just wait a while.You'll soon find out if he talked. Meanwhile it would be better for you if you didn't torment yourself over it.' Macro thought a moment and pointed a finger at Cato. 'Is that what this is about?'

  'What?'

  'You volunteering to get this message through to the king.'

  'No. It has nothing to do with that.'

  Macro stared at him for an instant and then shrugged. 'If you say so. Just don't go and get yourself killed out of some perverse sense of righting a wrong. I know you, Cato.'

  'Don't worry. I have no intention of throwing my life away.'

  'All right, then.' Macro was not wholly convinced. 'Just be careful, eh?'

  Cato was watching two figures climbing the slope towards them: Balthus and Carpex. The two Romans clambered to their feet and bowed their heads in greeting.

  'It's time,' Balthus announced to Cato. 'You must follow my man and do exactly as he says. There is a way into the citadel, but you must trust him, and obey. Do not speak, even in Greek, for your accent will betray you. And don't forget the signal.We will not enter the city if we do not see it.'

  'I understand.'

  'Well then, much as it pains me to say it, Roman, I wish you good luck.'

  'Thank you.' Cato turned to Macro. 'I'll see you in the citadel later on, sir.'

  'Of course you will.' Macro smiled and slapped him on the shoulder. 'As the prince says, good luck.'

  'Thank you, sir,' Cato said solemnly and then turned to follow Carpex up towards the ridge.

  08 Centurion

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  They crossed the ridge and descended the far side, keeping behind the line of the rocky spur that jutted out into the plain towards Palmyra. The sun set behind the ridge and they walked in silence as the shadows thickened about them in the gathering dusk. Cato followed Carpex closely, keeping a wary eye on the ground ahead of them, looking for any signs of human habitation or enemy patrols. But the landscape this side of the city was mainly barren and deserted and only a handful of the creatures of the desert were abroad. A jackal, startled by the two men, scrambled away into some low brush with a shrill yipping noise. Overhead a vulture spiralled lazily in the sky and Cato could not help thinking that both animals would quickly grow fat on the flesh of dead men in the days to come.

  As the last glimmer of light faded in the sky they reached the end of the spur and paused as they caught sight of the twinkling lamps strung along the wall of the city and burning faintly in the windows and on the flat roofs of the buildings beyond. A number of fires burned outside the gates where travellers and merchants camped for the night, continuing about their business despite the power struggle taking place within Palmyra.The bulk of the citadel loomed over the eastern side of the city and Cato touched his companion on the shoulder.

  'Which way now?'

  Carpex pointed out a shallow depression that snaked from the hills and across the plain towards the city. In the few days each year that rain fell this was one of the streams that fed off the hills and into the oasis. But now it was quite dry and provided ample cover for their approach.

  'Stay behind me, master. If we encounter anyone, not a word, eh?'

  'I know. Let's go.'

  They trotted towards the lip of the narrow water channel and slid down on to the bed. The ground was smooth and hard and they made barely a sound as they padded quickly along, following the course of the channel. Once Cato thought he heard voices, and stopped Carpex until he was sure there was nothing, and then they cautiously continued forward again. After they had gone perhaps three miles, as Cato calculated it, the narrowing course of the dried-up bed of the stream petered out and they emerged on to the plain no more than half a mile from the city. Just ahead, a grove of palms marked the spot where the flow of water ended its journey from the hills and Carpex beckoned to Cato to follow him to the tall, thin trunks curving up towards the spiky fronds above. There was a faint evening breeze which ruffled the long leaves so that they rustled as the two men crept into the shadows beneath and cautiously made their way through the husked trunks to the far side of the grove.

  Carpex suddenly crouched down and bade Cato to do the same. As Cato shuffled to his side Carpex turned to him with a fierce glare and touched a finger to his lips. No more than thirty paces away, where the palm trees were more stunted and dispersed, the unmistakable silhouettes of several camels knelt on the ground. A short distance beyond there was a dark huddle of men sitting under the stars speaking Aramaic in muted voices.

  'Rebels?' Cato whispered.

  Carpex shook his head.'Merchants.' He tilted his head to one side for a moment to listen before he continued, 'They're complaining about the way the uprising is interfering with their trade.'

  Cato grunted lightly. 'I wish I had their problems. What do we do? We have to get round them.'

  'Yes. This way.' Carpex lowered himself to the ground and crept along the fringe of the trees on all fours, careful not to disturb the dried fronds that had fallen from the palms. He paused and glanced back at Cato, whispering, 'Go carefully, Roman.There may be scorpions, or snakes hunting in the darkness.'

  'Snakes?'

  'Yes, vipers. Now come!'

  Cato followed him, trying not to flinch at the thought of any lethal reptiles or insects that might lie in his path. He cast wary glances towards the camels and the men slightly further off. Once he froze as a camel turned to him, jaws working casually, and grunted. It soon lost interest, and turned back and chewed contentedly. As soon as they were a safe distance from the traders they stood up again and continued towards the city.To their left was the track leading east towards Parthia and Carpex angled towards it. Cato grasped his arm.

  'Why this route? We're bound to be seen.'

  'Of course. This way we could be anybody travelling to Palmyra. If we're seen coming from the hills to the north, we might cause suspicion. Trust me, master.'

  Cato took a deep breath and nodded.'Looks like I'll have to.'

  'Yes. Now please – no more talking.'

  As soon as they reached the track they followed it towards the city. A short distance along it they passed a caravan heading in the opposite direction, making the most of the comfort of the cool night air to begin its journey. Carpex exchanged a few comments with some of the drivers as they passed by and once the tail of the caravan was behind them he turned to Cato.

  'It seems that the merchants are sending their most valuable stock out of the city. Many of the wealthiest families have already left. They're fearful that there will be a big battle, master. Perhaps they have already heard that your governor Longinus is coming with his legions?'

  Cato nodded. If it came to battle, or a siege, then it would be the people of Palmyra who suffered most. He could understand their desire to get away until the fighting was over. As ever the poor, who had no other home, nor the means to support themselves, were condemned to remain behind and weather the bloody tempest that was about to break over their city.

  As they approached the eastern gate, Cato could see that there was still a handful of people sitting or sleeping on the ground either side of the route. Even with the revolt, some of the locals still dared to go in and out of the city, tending to their smallholdings or making sure their goats remained safe.The gate itself was open, but heavily guarded by armed men who prevented access during the hours of the night. By the light of the torches burning in brackets above the gate, and the braziers on either side, Cato could see that they wore scale armour over loose robes and baggy leggings. Each wore a conical helmet and was equipped with a round shield and a spear. They barred the way into the city.

  'What now?' Cato muttered.

  'You do as I say, master. Remember?'

  Cato nodded.

  'Follow my lead and do not speak. When we reach the gate I will say who I am. It is likely that I will be recognised in any case. I will tell them that you are another slave who escaped from Prince Balthus' retinue with me. I will tell them th
at the camp of my master is a short distance away to the east. I will say that I will tell them precisely where it is only when I am given a reward for the information I have for Prince Artaxes.They will admit us, and escort us through the gate to find the prince. Once inside we will be in the slum quarter of the city.The streets are narrow and winding. When I tell you, we run and you follow me. We will easily outstrip them and lose them in the streets, but you must not lose sight of me, master, or you'll get lost, and be sure to fall into their hands.'

  'That's your plan?' Cato whispered furiously. 'What if it doesn't work?'

  'Have you got a better idea, master?' Carpex responded testily.

  Cato nodded vigorously. 'We should get the fuck out of here and think of a proper plan.' But it was already too late. There was no time to do anything else. 'What if they send for someone instead of escorting us into the city? What then?'

  'Then?' Carpex looked surprised. 'Then we are sure to be discovered for what we are, master, and we'll be executed.'

  Cato shook his head in wonder at the desperate nature of his companion's ruse, and despair that there was no way out of it now.They were close enough to the men guarding the gates to be seen in the loom of their torches, and to turn round would provoke their instant suspicion. Cato swallowed nervously and hoped that his headpiece would hide his Roman features in the darkness.

  Carpex quickened his pace and, with a nervous glance over his shoulder, hurried up to the east gate, with Cato close behind him.

  They were instantly seen by some of the guards, who lowered their spears and pointed the tips at the two figures coming towards them. A harsh shout split the darkness and the remaining guards scrambled to their feet, weapons at the ready as Carpex and Cato stopped a short distance away. One of the rebels came forward, shouting at them. Carpex raised his hands and dropped to his knees and began speaking in a frightened rush. Cato knelt down behind him, head lowered, adopting what he hoped was an obeisant slave posture. The exchange between Carpex and the guard continued for a little longer, and the tone of the other man's voice changed from hostile to surprised and then excited as he beckoned to Carpex to stand up and follow him. Cato scrambled to his feet and stayed as close to the slave as possible as they were led past the other men and through the gateway.