The Imperial Banner (24 page)

Dusk came as they passed through the outskirts of Androna. Washing was collected, children called inside, doors bolted shut. Smoke and the smells of cooking drifted out of the houses; and anxious, curious faces looked out at the unlikely sight of three travellers taking the road north in darkness.

Calling in at the second inn, Cassius had discovered that Surex was out checking on the northern sentries; and they came across the legionaries less than a mile beyond the last of Androna’s dwellings.

The soldiers were gathered around a glowing brazier, drinking steaming wine from their canteens. They were well-equipped with bows and throwing javelins, and well-stocked with food and water. Two lookouts had been posted, one half a mile to the east, another to the west. Surex came out to meet Cassius as he dismounted.

‘I’ve been round all the men now,’ said the optio. ‘Nobody remembers any big groups passing through. Nor any big carts.’

‘No carts at all?’

‘Only small things – donkey pulls. Locals.’ Surex nodded at Cassius’s tunic. ‘I see you’ve dispensed with your officer’s gear.’

Cassius shrugged. ‘Seemed sensible in the circumstances.’

‘Absolutely.’

One of the legionaries came forward and struck up a conversation with Simo. It turned out he was a close friend of the injured man and he and several others wanted to offer their thanks. As they spoke, Cassius and Surex moved to one side. The optio took a sheet of papyrus from behind his belt.

‘My letter. The senior centurion at Chalcis is Volcatius Arius.’

Cassius took the note and put it in his satchel. ‘If I’m unable to get there myself, I’ll try to send it some other way. Do you know of a road that branches off to the east about ten miles short of Chalcis? Apparently it leads past the mines south of the city.’

‘I remember it. I’d never come down this way before so I made my own map.’

‘Did you see any traffic there? Any sign of activity?’

‘No, but the road was still in good condition – passable.’

‘That would be about forty miles from here, yes?’

‘About that. There are milestones all the way.’

‘So we might expect to arrive this time tomorrow.’

‘If you pushed it. Probably later.’

‘And any way-stations, inns?’

‘Here.’

Surex led him closer to the brazier and reached inside his tunic. He pulled out a rudimentary map with markings made in charcoal. They knelt down, side by side; and Indavara wandered over to listen in.

‘First way-station is twelve miles from here. Second one is at twenty-five. Neither is occupied though. We haven’t the manpower.’

‘And inns?’

‘Several. But also empty. It’s just too risky for people to come back and take them over with the Palmyrans still roaming around.’

Cassius looked north. ‘This could be a very unpleasant trip.’

‘At least the road is wide and smooth. You can ride without a light. But if you need to leave the road, don’t go too far. There are these damned underground water channels criss-crossing this whole area, with vertical shafts leading down to them. You’ll never see them at night – perfect for snapping a horse’s leg.’

‘Wonderful.’

The two officers stood and gripped forearms.

‘Hope you make it,’ said Surex.

‘You too.’

The cold night air chilled their hands and faces, until their fingers became stiff, their cheeks numb. And with the moon only offering its light on the rare occasion of a gap in the cloud, Cassius felt as if they were being drawn along some endless, black tunnel that narrowed with every passing mile. Though the road was indeed smooth underfoot, and the horses could ride side by side, they too seemed unnerved by the dark. Every clink of metal or tap of hoof seemed to reverberate outward, announcing their presence to whoever else had decided to brave the desert night.

They had missed the eighth milestone. Determined to see the ninth, Cassius stationed himself to the left of the road. Cradled in Simo’s lap was Cassius’s hourglass; only that afternoon the Gaul had adjusted it to account for the shorter days and longer nights of autumn. Exploiting a moment of moonlight, Simo checked the glass. The top half was empty.

‘Fourth hour,’ he said, turning it over.

Cassius rubbed his eyes. ‘Where’s this damned stone? Can’t be far now.’

With no word of warning, Indavara pulled back on his reins. His horse lurched off the road with a snort of protest. Cassius and Simo halted their mounts.

‘What are you doing?’ demanded Cassius.

‘Look there, ahead!’

Indavara pointed north. In the distance were several dots of orange light.

‘Gods,’ said Cassius. ‘They must be moving quickly – I saw nothing a few moments ago.’

‘We should get off the road while we have time,’ said Indavara.

‘Don’t you remember what Surex said about those channels?’

‘Then what do we do – wait for them?’

Cassius looked north again. Were the lights closer already?

‘Simo, you wait here with the horses,’ he said as he dismounted. ‘We’ll try to find a safe path.’

Once Indavara was off his horse and beside him, Cassius hurried off the right side of the road and down the shallow slope beside it.

‘Keep a few yards between us,’ he said. ‘Slow and steady.’

The bodyguard did as he was told and when Cassius had counted fifty paces of even ground, they turned and ran back to the road. Cassius dragged his eyes off the lights as he took his reins. There were three torches; no more than a mile away now.

Indavara’s mount was tossing its head around and puffing.

‘That accursed thing better stay quiet,’ said Cassius. ‘Follow me. Don’t stray off my path.’

With a last glance at the bobbing torches, he led the way. When the fifty paces were done, he gently brought his horse around. The others did likewise; Indavara to his right, Simo to his left. The bodyguard’s horse was still unsettled, and as it strained against its reins, anxiety spread to Cassius’s horse. He held its head close to him and stroked its neck. Indavara swore as his mount yanked him backwards.

They could hear the riders now; the percussive thud of hooves amplified by the stones below.

Indavara’s mount began to sniff and snort.

‘That bloody beast is going to do for us all,’ Cassius hissed. ‘Simo, you take it – might calm it down.’

Cassius muttered a prayer to Epona, goddess of horses, and held the reins while Indavara and the Gaul swapped positions. Either or both of the methods seemed to work because in moments all three animals were quiet.

‘That’s it,’ said Cassius. ‘Just a little longer.’

They stood in a line in the darkness, watching the road.

The riders approached. The first man was slightly out in front, torch held high.

Cassius’s horse began to shuffle its hooves and back away from the road.

The first rider was past them now. There were four more behind him, two with torches.

‘Keep going, keep going,’ Cassius whispered.

Suddenly Simo was struggling to keep control of Indavara’s horse and Cassius was hauled off balance by his own mount. He prayed again. All three horses were now snorting but the noise from the road was louder. Then Indavara’s horse loosed a high-pitched whinny.

One of the riders cried out and stopped. The others halted too, then the man in front. Without the clatter of hooves, the quiet came suddenly.

‘No, no, no,’ Cassius breathed.

Indavara’s horse whinnied again, then Simo’s too.

The riders peered warily into the darkness. They leapt down from their saddles, conversing in hushed, urgent tones. The leader was last off his horse. By the time he reached the others, three were holding their swords, one was putting an arrow to his bow. The leader drew his own blade. Flame flickered across its polished surface. He spoke; and one man sheathed his sword and took charge of the horses. The other three gathered behind him. With his torch in one hand, sword in the other, he strode confidently off the road.

‘What shall we do, sir?’ implored Simo.

Indavara came close to Cassius. ‘Take these,’ he said, holding up the reins for Simo’s horse.

‘What?’

‘I’ll move off. Stay hidden. If things go bad I can catch them cold.’

‘What? No, we—’

‘I may be some distance away so if you want me to strike, put your hand to your mouth and cough loudly. Understood?’

‘Wait—’

‘Understood?’

‘How do we explain the spare horse?’

‘You’re the talker. Think of something.’

Indavara forced the reins into Cassius’s hands, then took his bow and quiver from his saddle. Eyes locked on the men, he retreated silently into the darkness.

Cassius decided there was now nothing to be gained by staying hidden.

‘Come, Simo.’

He handed the Gaul the reins of Indavara’s horse and led his own mount forward.

‘Hello there,’ he said in Greek.

The men stopped. Cassius continued on until he was only a few feet from them. The leader was the oldest of them, bearded, dark-skinned and sinewy, and he smiled when he saw what he and his men faced. Strapped to his left arm was a small, round shield. Cassius had seen those before. Palmyrans. The archer raised his weapon. The bow was unusually long, the arrow too, and the tip was aiming straight at Cassius’s head.

‘Do you speak Greek?’ Cassius asked, failing to stop his voice wavering.

The leader nodded. He held torch and blade high, framing his drawn, angular face.

‘What are you doing out here?’

‘Hiding, actually. We were told the road was dangerous.’

A flicker of amusement crossed the Palmyran’s face. ‘Can be, can be.’

Cassius nodded at the archer. ‘Could you ask your friend to aim that somewhere else?’

‘You have three horses, but there are only two of you.’

‘A spare.’

‘It’s saddled.’

‘I used it this night. My mount is tired.’

The leader spoke to the archer. The Palmyran kept his string half-drawn, but aimed the arrow at the ground.

‘Who are you?’ asked the leader. ‘And why are you on the road?’

‘My name’s Oranian. I’m from Raetia. I’m interested in the mines north of here – looking for trade opportunities. I arranged several meetings in Chalcis but I was delayed, hence the night-time journey.’

‘Raetian, eh? Sure you don’t mean Roman?’

‘Quite sure, thank you.’

‘And him?’ asked the leader, turning to Simo.

‘My manservant.’

The leader walked past Cassius, passing within inches of him. The horses had calmed down but became skittish again as the sizzling torch came near. The Palmyran looked at the saddles and the gear. He said something in Aramaic to the others, then walked back to them. Cassius understood none of it and he turned to Simo, but the Gaul was staring at the four warriors.

‘There’s a tax for using this road,’ said the leader.

‘I see. How much?’

‘It varies. From a few coins to . . . everything you own.’

Cassius noted that the other men made no reaction to this quip. They didn’t speak Greek.

‘I can be reasonable,’ he replied. ‘If you’ll allow us to continue peacefully on our way.’

The leader nodded at his comrades. ‘I don’t see you’ve much room for negotiation. You’ve some fine saddles and bags there. Who knows what we’ll find?’

He spoke to his men. The bowman raised his weapon again. The leader and the two swordsmen came forward.

Cassius was in little doubt about what would happen if they discovered the spear-head or his helmet.

‘I’ll give you twenty denarii,’ he said quickly. ‘I’m sure that would make this one of your most profitable nights.’

The Palmyran stopped a couple of feet away. Cassius felt the heat of the torch against his face. The man grinned.

‘Twenty, eh? I bet you’ve at least double that tucked away somewhere.’

Cassius took a step backwards and handed his reins to Simo.

‘Thirty. I’ll give you no more.’

‘Now I’m getting really interested,’ said the Palmyran. ‘I reckon you’ve a hundred at least.’ He aimed his sword at Cassius. ‘Where are your coins then?’

Cassius had already decided the maximum he could give away as a bribe before they set out. He had four bags, each of ten denarii, ready at the top of one of the saddlebags. He took them out and walked back to the Palmyran. The leader eyed the money.

‘Forty,’ Cassius said. ‘Then you turn around, take your men, and continue on your way.’

The Palmyran spat on the ground. ‘You don’t tell me what to do.’

One of the other men spoke. The leader dismissed his comment with a wave of his sword.

Cassius could have given the signal then, but he reckoned there was one last chance to avoid bloodshed.

‘I see you’re not one to listen to reason. Perhaps this will change your mind. I lied. That mount is not a spare. It belongs to my bodyguard.’ Cassius nodded over his shoulder. ‘He’s out there somewhere. He has a bow. And I’d be very surprised if – at this precise moment – it’s not trained on you.’

Cassius was right about that.

Indavara was thirty paces away. His bow was half-drawn and the tips of his fingers were beginning to ache. His open eye was close to the string; the arrow was aimed at the leader’s chest. Every time the men moved, Indavara would move too, ensuring he kept an angle on both the leader and the archer.