by Nick Brown
When the fifth – and most troublesome – creek was behind them, Cassius halted for a rest. The five of them sat upon the remains of an old wall, wiping mud from their boots and legs. Enca drank more wine and Simo handed out some food – a few walnuts and some very smelly cheese.
‘I wouldn’t eat that if you paid me,’ said Cassius, contenting himself with stale water.
Amarante was sitting beside him. ‘Will Aurelian win?’
‘Now there’s a question. Difficult to answer.’
‘But he has all of Rome on his side, doesn’t he? The rest of the empire?’
‘True. But Tetricus has been dug in for a long time and has four legions of his own. However, Aurelian is an exceptional commander and he’s not been defeated yet. It may take some time but I believe he’ll prevail.’
‘Have you met him?’
Cassius chuckled at the suggestion, then realised that he had, in fact, come close.
‘No. I’ve met his deputy though. Have you heard of Marshal Marcellinus?’
‘No.’
‘He watches over the East for the emperor. It was he that despatched me – us, actually – on one of our assignments. We were sent to Berytus, looking for counterfeiters.’
‘People that make fake coins?’
‘Precisely.’
‘Britons?’
‘No, though I know why you say that – they are considered experts. Berytus is in the province of Syria.’
‘The army gives you some strange jobs.’
‘We’re not actually part of the regular army. We’re with Imperial Security. It’s complicated … but yes, we do get given the strange jobs. Strange and exceptionally bloody difficult – if not impossible.’
‘Have you been to Rome?’ asked Amarante.
‘Several times.’
‘What’s it like?’
‘Large, dirty, noisy … but exciting in the way that big cities are.’
‘I’ve only been to one city – Lugdunum. I saw some Syrians there. What about the queen that Aurelian defeated? She was Syrian, wasn’t she?’
‘Zenobia? Yes. Well, Palmyran. Her soldiers loved her. Great warriors.’
Amarante smiled. ‘She was an empress.’
Cassius thanked the gods for placing no more creeks in their path. They did have to circumvent a larger tributary but soon located a rickety wooden bridge. Following a long ditch beside more troublesome water meadows, they passed a small flock of sheep that instantly fled. Enca wasn’t sure if they were near to the farmhouse but Cassius thought it a promising sign.
When they later passed a walled field, he suspected they were close. By then the sun was near-risen, casting an ethereal orange light across water and land. When he next looked ahead, Cassius spied the outline of a large building only a hundred yards distant.
He waited for Indavara to catch up. The bodyguard had taken over carrying duties from Simo.
‘Enca, is this it?’
‘Not sure, sir. I think so.’
They had to climb over another wall and were within a hundred feet of the building when a dog began to bark. Cassius could now see that it was a sizeable settlement with several outhouses. It was hard to believe the place had once been abandoned.
A door opened, revealing a light within. A tall, hooded man appeared, framed by the doorway. He was holding a leashed dog.
‘Wait here.’
‘Corbulo,’ warned Indavara.
‘It’s all right. We must not appear a threat.’
Cassius walked slowly towards the house. The man set off towards him, struggling to control the dog, which was evidently a powerful beast. As they neared each other, Cassius began to fear he had made a mistake. Perhaps this was the wrong place? Perhaps the Christians had moved on?
He stopped and let the local come to him.
‘Who’s there?’ asked the tall man gruffly.
The dog was scraping the ground with its paws, seemingly desperate to tear Cassius apart.
‘My name is Crispian. I’m a merchant, trying to get clear of the area before the fighting breaks out. My guide is badly injured. I wondered if we might be able to rest here while we treat him. We are very tired.’
‘How many of you are there?’
‘Five. Myself, my two men, the scout and his daughter. We believe he has a broken knee.’
‘If I admit you to our house, I’ll not have cause to regret it?’
‘No,’ said Cassius. ‘We will not trouble you for long. But we really would appreciate the rest. I can pay.’
The man jerked the leash roughly, which calmed the dog a little. He lowered his hood and came forward.
‘That won’t be necessary. If you are truly in need, you are welcome here, Master Crispian.’
‘Most kind. I shall fetch my party.’
‘My apologies about the dog. Not all those who come here are friendly. I’ll put him inside and wake the others. I am Brother Gregory.’
The watchtower at Libio was manned by a small squad of soldiers commanded by a guard officer. Upon seeing Volosus’s credentials, they had cooperated fully, offering the agent and his men their beds. Even so, Volosus had been unable to sleep and now sat alone at a table on the ground floor. The building was cramped and musty and though dawn had come, he couldn’t bring himself to go outside.
The tower was placed on a hill above the main east-west road. The scattered troops of Thaddeus and the cavalry of Hadrianus had begun to appear during the first hour and now dozens had passed by on their way back to the Twenty-Second Legion. Volosus had posted Gutha and Bibulus on the road to consult every unit but there were only pairs and single riders passing now: these were the messengers sent far and wide by Hadrianus.
The six men who manned the tower were at the rear, hammering away as they effected some repair. The noise did not improve Volosus’s mood. Before him was an untouched plate of food and a jug of wine so foul that the smell had prevented him from even attempting to drink it.
He tried to summon the face of the arrogant little bastard that had outwitted him at the fortress but the image was indistinct. Less vague was the dull ache behind his eyes and the shame at losing in a game of the type he had long considered himself master.
He looked up to see Bibulus standing in the doorway. ‘The last pair, sir – from Cravana.’
‘And?’
‘Nothing, I’m afraid. Sorry, sir.’
Bibulus withdrew.
Volosus told himself to count to ten. Anger would only worsen his headache. He’d only reached number four when he swept his arm across the table, sending crockery, food and wine flying.
XX
They called their home the Retreat and themselves the Brethren. There were seven of them, the youngest around thirty, the oldest at least seventy. The old man was named Jerome. He hailed from Egypt and had apparently brought the idea of an independent community of believers with him from the East. As introductions were made, Simo mentioned the similar group he had encountered where the ‘angel’ had been sighted, which thrilled the hosts. Having often felt the need to hide the attendant’s religious beliefs, Cassius now encouraged him to be open with his fellow Christians, certain it would help their cause.
The men were welcoming in any case, though they didn’t seem happy about the presence of Amarante beneath their roof. Cassius didn’t have to be told by Simo that the Brethren were aiming for a pure existence free of sin; and that the mere presence of a young female might upset them. Yet he was amused to note that even such pious fellows couldn’t completely control themselves. Amarante’s natural beauty attracted several stares.
The Brethren did their best for Enca by properly bandaging his knee and also put out straw mattresses in a spare room for their guests. After eating a hearty meal of bread, sausage and spiced beans, the five visitors collapsed onto the beds. Cassius had seldom felt so weary. And yet he couldn’t sleep because once more he was waiting.
The Brethren possessed a boat but it wasn’t currently at the
Retreat. Two of their number had set off before dawn in order to reach a market upriver. They were expected back in mid-afternoon. Gregor had explained that they were perfectly happy to deliver their guests across the Rhone. Apparently, it would take no more than a quarter-hour. They had no other vessels, nor were there any other houses close by.
‘Can’t sleep?’
Indavara was lying to Cassius’s left, closest to the door. To his right were Simo, Amarante and Enca: all now asleep.
‘No,’ replied Cassius, matching the whisper. ‘You?’
‘Someone should stay awake.’
‘I will. You rest.’
With a pat on his shoulder, Cassius got up and stepped over him. To avoid disturbing the Christians, he and the others had placed all their weapons in a corner. He thought it unnecessary and unwise to arm himself now.
Leaving the room quietly, he followed the sound of voices to the kitchen, where he found three of the Brethren. One man was busy at a hearth, while Brother Gregory and Brother Jerome sat at a table, peeling vegetables. Gregory was a tall, well-built man with curly black hair and a heavy brow. Jerome was thin and frail, with only a few strands of white hair left upon his head. Cassius hadn’t met the third man and felt he should introduce himself. He was struck by the notion that it was quite pleasant to be among people who weren’t trying to kill him.
‘Good day to you. I’m Cassius.’
‘Timon,’ said the man quietly, only taking his eyes off a steaming pot for a moment.
‘Please, sit, friend,’ offered Brother Jerome.
‘Would you like some wine?’ asked Brother Gregory.
‘No, I must keep a clear head and I’m weary as it is.’
‘Milk?’
‘Yes, thank you.’
While Gregory went to fetch it, Jerome halted his peeling and turned to Cassius. ‘Are your companions resting?’
‘They are. I must thank you again. It’s been a difficult few days. The injury to my scout was the final straw.’
‘What’s that?’ asked Jerome, frowning.
Cassius spoke more loudly. ‘I said it’s been a difficult few days.’
‘Ah yes. What did you see of the soldiers? Someone said war is coming. Who said that, Gregory?’
‘It was the fisherman.’ Gregory also enunciated clearly for the old man’s benefit. He handed Cassius the mug of milk.
‘Very kind.’
Jerome didn’t seem to have registered the reply.
‘The fisherman,’ repeated Gregory. ‘Master Rubellius.’
‘Ah yes,’ said the old man.
Gregory sat down and returned to his peeling. ‘Did you see any soldiers?’
Cassius had already decided to be truthful where he could. He did not enjoy deceiving these people. ‘We did. Infantry and cavalry. There was some talk of a skirmish a few days ago.’
‘Do you think war is inevitable?’
‘At this point, probably. Two emperors. Two armies facing each other.’
Jerome said, ‘There will be much suffering, much death before peace returns. We can only pray that we here are spared.’
Cassius looked around. The kitchen was well stocked and equipped. ‘Enca told me that this place was a ruin before you arrived.’
‘Quite so,’ said Gregory, grinning as he chopped a carrot. ‘No roof. Most of the walls half-collapsed. We brought only a sheep and two goats with us.’
Cassius drank his milk, which was wonderfully fresh and cool.
‘It is a blessing,’ blurted Brother Jerome, stabbing his little knife towards the roof. ‘A blessing from the Lord himself.’
‘And you are from the East?’ asked Cassius.
‘I am. I was born in Palestine, no more than a day’s walk from the birthplace of Christ himself.’
‘I have been to Palestine.’
‘Is that right?’
‘Such is the life of a merchant.’
‘What do you trade in?’ asked Brother Timon, now stirring something within the blackened pot. To Cassius, his tone seemed less curious than interrogative.
‘Just about everything in my time. I was in Lugdunum to secure an order of Samian pottery. Unfortunately, the seller wishes to wait to see what occurs over the coming weeks; otherwise he cannot guarantee delivery.’
‘Where did you cross the Rhone?’ asked Timon.
Cassius tried his best to give a convincing answer based on what he could recall of the area.
‘I believe it was close to Vienne.’
Timon seemed surprised. ‘You seem to have come a long way north since then.’
Even in his tired state, Cassius knew he had been caught out. Gregory seemed to have noticed too.
‘Enca arranged some visits with other sellers but we didn’t make much progress. Honestly, I’ve just been guiding my horse after his. I do not know Gaul well.’
‘What happened to your horses?’ asked Gregory, still peeling.
‘Two were lamed on some difficult ground. Enca felt it wiser to continue on foot. We have been most unfortunate. I might have to look elsewhere for a new venture.’
‘Your companion has many scars,’ observed Timon.
Cassius was about ready to punch him.
Gregory turned towards the younger man. ‘We needn’t quiz our guest any further.’ To Cassius he said, ‘We receive so few visitors, you see.’
‘It’s all right. Indavara was a gladiator. A slave who won his freedom. A good man.’
‘And your attendant is a believer,’ said Gregory with a grin. ‘If I may say so, you are an unusual trio.’
‘I won’t argue with you there.’
At midday, Cassius woke the others. He had just been assured by Gregory that – barring some unforeseen circumstance – the boat would return soon. Enca was in fact already awake due to the pain in his knee so Simo went to ask their hosts for some wine. Gregory had supplied a jug of hot water which Cassius gave to Amarante. She thanked him and went to a quiet storeroom next door to clean up.
‘What have you been doing?’ asked a bleary-eyed Indavara.
‘Talking to them. And waiting. Shouldn’t be long now.’
‘The boat’s big enough to take us all?’
‘It is. You slept?’
‘I did. Another ten hours or so wouldn’t go amiss.’
Cassius let out a long sigh. ‘We’ve barely stopped since Abascantius sent us west. Venator won’t be pleased to hear of the general’s death but we at least did what we were sent to do.’
Indavara patted down the most errant clumps of his thick, black hair.
‘What then?’
‘Well, in theory I am still at the prefect’s service. But considering what we’ve been through, I’m hopeful he’ll spare us another such trial. A position on his staff would suit me nicely. Easy work for you and Simo. Probably some decent food too.’
He’d expected a grin but Indavara was gazing contemplatively at the floor. Cassius guessed what he was thinking.
‘Aurelian was quick to crush his other rivals. If we’re fortunate, this could be over in weeks. Then I’ll do as I promised. We’ll see what we can find out for you.’
Indavara gave a determined nod.
Cassius continued: ‘Right, I think I’ll try and get a little rest myself. Keep an eye out. There’s a track that runs west and meets up with a main road. Apparently, the closest bridge is some way south. A place called Otomagus.’
Libio tower was three miles behind them when the rider came charging up from the rear. The cavalryman carried a shield with the markings of the Twenty-Second Legion. Both he and his mount were sweating profusely.
‘Officer Volosus?’
‘Yes.’
‘Might have something for you. A local man claims to have information regarding the enemy spies.’
Volosus had already wheeled around. ‘Where is he?’
The rider aimed a thumb over his shoulder. ‘About a mile back. He has only a mule – can’t catch up. Wants paying.’
/> ‘What did he tell you?’
‘Nothing. Just to alert you before you got too far away. Sir, I should already be back with my unit. I thought perhaps…’
‘A denarius for the man, Bibulus.’
Volosus set off back down the road, swiftly urging his horse into a gallop. Despite his haste and this welcome chink of light, he did not allow himself to get carried away. In his line of work, such claims often came from avaricious opportunists.
He covered the mile swiftly. The would-be informant was standing beside his mule, a small man with unkempt hair and face disfigured by some kind of pox. Volosus dismounted but kept his distance, one hand on his sword hilt.
‘I’m told you know something of the enemy spies.’
‘Pretty sure I do.’
‘Go on.’
The informer held out his hand, palm open.
‘Speak, man, or I’ll have the truth beaten from you!’
Now he held both hands up. ‘No need for that, sir. I heard there were two women with them. One named Ioanna?’
‘You saw them?’
‘I saw her.’
Gutha arrived and dropped to the ground. The informant took a moment to examine the giant but – to his credit – retained his composure.
‘Sir, I feel I deserve-’
‘You give me something I can use, I’ll give you four denarii. You have my word as a Roman officer.’
The man considered this, then nodded. ‘I was sitting beside the well in Cravana this morning. It’s about ten miles-’
‘I know where it is. Continue.’
‘There was a girl there, all dirty and tired-looking – asked one of the village women if she could drink from her pail. They got to talking. She said her name, that she needed help. The woman asked if she was one of the spies being sought by the soldiers. This Ioanna denied it, then started to cry. The woman saw me watching and took her to the inn. I waited for them to go inside then followed later. I couldn’t get too close but I heard them talking about the Retreat.’
‘The what?’
‘It’s an old farmhouse a few miles south of Cravana. Rebuilt by a bunch of cultists. Sounded like that’s where the spies had gone. Clever – no one would look there.’