The Siege (13 page)

‘What do we think of that then?’ he said, grinning.

‘They are brothers, yet they strike each other,’ said Teyya.

‘If one injures the other, both will die, yet still they fight,’ said the archer.

‘What do you think, sir?’ asked Teyya.

Azaf looked down at the creature impassively.

‘I think it is in the nature of all things to fight.’

He looked up and glanced round the assembled soldiers.

‘And I trust each of you is as ready as they are.’

This brought shouts and cheers from the men. Though he was glad to hear it, Azaf was not usually one to engage in such banter.

Bezda had also been watching and now pushed his way to the front.

‘It is in the nature of all except the Romans,’ stated the cavalryman, ‘who would rather build roads and make trade!’

This too brought a cheer and a good deal of laughter. As the noise died down, the archer held up his hands.

‘I had been waiting for the right time to let these two at it but now seems as good as any. I’ll need twenty coins if you want to see them fight again. The odds—’

As the crowd pressed closer and men suddenly produced handfuls of coins, Azaf drew his sword. The warriors retreated. Before the archer could react, the
strategos
swung his blade towards the ground. He grabbed a handful of the archer’s tunic and wiped off the sword edge as the other Palmyrans gazed down at his handiwork. The two heads of the snake had been severed at precisely the same point, just below the neck. Even in death they remained identical.

‘There’ll be no gambling. Get yourselves and your horses watered and rested,’ said Azaf quietly. ‘We’ll be on the move again soon.’

Anger shone in the archer’s eyes but he regained control of himself quickly, lowering his gaze and bowing.

‘At once, sir.’

Azaf turned away again and walked back towards the top of the dune, Bezda at his side.

There was no set formal hierarchy within the Palmyran forces. Both men held the rank of
strategos
, but Bezda recognised Azaf’s seniority on this occasion because he was acting directly on the orders of General Zabbai. Bezda would retain tactical control of his cavalrymen, but the responsibility for overall planning lay with Azaf.

‘There’ll be time enough for fun and games when we’ve taken this fort, I suppose,’ said Bezda, shaking sand from his thick, knotted beard. He was a large, bear-like man and rode a horse of commensurate proportions, liberated from a Roman cavalry officer.

‘Perhaps. If we find the situation as favourable as the general suggests.’

‘You doubt his word?’

Azaf aimed a narrow glare sideways as they neared the top of the dune. He hadn’t fought with Bezda before but knew he was greatly respected for his strength and aggression, despite his advancing years. Azaf was glad to have the additional force but found Bezda, like most of the cavalrymen he’d encountered, rather arrogant.

‘Hardly. But I prefer to see the situation for myself.’

‘Well,’ Bezda replied, as they came to a stop, ‘that time approaches.’

Whilst travelling by road the column had passed several Roman milestones and they knew they were close. Some of the limestone slabs had been defaced by Palmyran soldiers, who had covered the names of emperors past with that of their queen. Leaving the road the previous evening, they had taken a more direct route across the dunes. It had been hard going, but they had saved several hours.

The two Palmyrans stared out across the plain. Pleasingly short of the horizon lay the angular outline of their last stop before Alauran: the city of Anasartha.

XI

‘Ah, what I’d give for a proper bath – half an hour in a hot room then a cold plunge.’

Cassius passed the last of the sodden towels to Simo, who wrung it out above a large bowl.

‘Not that I’m ungrateful, you understand. You have acquitted yourself most impressively, given the circumstances.’

‘Perhaps when we’re back in Antioch, sir.’

‘Yes, quite. That’s the spirit, Simo.’

They were standing in a corner of the bedroom, Cassius completely naked and glad to be at his cleanest since leaving Nessara.

‘You know, it amazes me how you servants manage to awaken before dawn.’

‘A lifetime of practice, sir. We are able to sense when it is time to rise.’

Cassius took a fresh towel from Simo and dried himself.

‘You’d best attend to this water,’ he said, stepping out of the ever-enlarging pool. Before he could start dressing, there was a rap on the half-open door.

‘Anybody up?’

There was no mistaking the sarcastic tone.

‘Good morning, guard officer,’ said Cassius brightly, pulling his tunic on over his head. ‘I didn’t mark you down as an early riser.’

‘Actually I haven’t been to bed,’ answered Strabo, stepping inside. ‘I plan to get the men started and sleep when the heat comes. You’ll find the will to work fades sometimes around midday.’

‘Not this day, I’m afraid.’

‘We’ll see.’

Grabbing his belt and dagger, Cassius walked over the top of Simo’s bed, leaving damp footprints across his blanket.

‘Better than stepping through that water, eh?’

‘I suppose so, sir,’ replied Simo.

Sheathing the dagger and buckling his belt, Cassius walked out of the bedroom and over to the window. The dark was already receding. No one else seemed to be up.

‘Nothing unusual during the night I trust?’

Strabo was perusing the page with Simo’s notes from the meeting.

‘Only my luck. The dice were kind. My pile of stones grew large.’

‘Really? Saving up for a boulder?’

Expecting at least a grin, Cassius found himself subjected to the most withering of gazes. It seemed the Sicilian was not receptive to quips at his expense.

‘Each stone represents a tenth,’ Strabo explained grimly. ‘We’ll settle up when the money comes.’

‘Ah. I see. About the wall – any progress?’

‘I’m not sure we’ll be able to put together the local mixture, but a man in my section has a suggestion: if we break the rubble down and mix it with water and camel dung, it should return to something like clay. Then we pack the hole and let it dry.’

‘That sounds like a solution. It will show from the outside as a weak point, though.’

‘We can find some paint to cover it. In any case, the whole wall is a weak point. If we’re lucky they’ll only have ladders. Battering rams or engines of any kind will do for us in moments. Flavian with his stave and in one of his rages wouldn’t take much longer.’

Simo walked past them, laden with towels. Cassius approached the table and cast an eye across the sheet.

‘What about the gate? That’ll require some skill.’

‘There are a couple of carpenters with Avso’s lot. They manned the workshop for a while.’

‘Fifth section can attend to the gate then. Third and fourth can take charge of the granary and the well. Remember – we need water in proofed barrels next to all the buildings in case of fire. Tell Serenus to organise the food so that we can get what we need easily. The morning meal will be taken just before midday. I’ll set my men on tidying detail. What about the aid post?’

‘Hardly deserves the name. A couple of beds, a few surgeon’s tools and potions.’

Simo fetched Cassius’ boots and placed them carefully on the floor, then pulled out a chair for him.

Strabo smirked.

‘You still here?’ said Cassius as he sat down. ‘We can’t do any of those jobs with the men still in bed.’

‘At once, Your Highness.’ Strabo bowed low and exited with a chuckle.

Flavian still stank of wine. He ran a hand through his curly hair and stared down at the floor. In theory his offence – attacking an officer – could be punished by the harshest sanctions. In normal circumstances he might be whipped, clubbed, even executed.

Behind him were Strabo, Barates and Avso. Behind them, busy soldiers passed the window at regular intervals.

Cassius shook his head disapprovingly.

‘Let me make one thing clear to you, legionary. If I didn’t need every last man within these walls free to fight, I’d have you clapped in chains and breaking rocks.’

Flavian shrugged, then surprised everyone with his reply.

‘No chains here, sir. Or rocks.’

For once, Cassius didn’t have to feign anger.

‘Perhaps you’d like me to devise a similarly unpleasant task for you?’ he shouted. ‘I’m sure we can come up with something!’

Strabo and Avso were struggling not to smile. Cassius was beginning to realise that rank alone was not enough to make the sight of a nineteen-year-old berating men twice his age any less amusing to hardened legionaries. He therefore determined to avoid doing so wherever possible in the future. Thankfully, Strabo soon recovered himself.

‘Of course we can, sir,’ he said. ‘Petronius’ old cane will be lying around here somewhere.’

Avso’s grin disappeared.

‘That won’t be necessary,’ Cassius replied quickly. ‘Assuming the legionary can summon an apology, I already have another task in mind.’

‘Sorry, sir,’ said Flavian. ‘It was the drink. Won’t happen again.’

Ignoring Strabo’s snort of disdain, Cassius nodded stiffly. It struck him that the manner of Flavian’s apology seemed almost juvenile. He had previously put his stupid behaviour down to the drink but was beginning to think a limited mental capacity might also be to blame. Avso was certainly the brighter of the two.

‘It had better not. And in the meantime, as well as your regular duties, you’ll be responsible for manning the gatehouse at night. You will monitor the plain and report anything out of the ordinary immediately. Avso can join you. Any failure in this regard and you can expect serious consequences. Understood?’

‘Sir.’

‘And if I hear you’ve had any more wine than your ration, I’ll have you driven from this fort. It’s a long walk back to Antioch. Dismissed.’

Avso followed his friend out.

‘See you around, guard officer,’ the Thracian said with a sly grin.

‘You will at that,’ retorted Strabo, helping the door shut with a kick.

Cassius wandered back towards the bedroom and quietly told Simo to fetch another two hundred denarii.

‘That was a mistake,’ said Strabo. Cassius turned to face him.

‘Really?’

‘Will you be able to rest easy knowing those two idiots are on watch?’

‘If we can’t trust them with a simple guard duty, what can we trust them with?’

‘Very little. I thought I made that clear.’

Cassius didn’t want to waste time explaining himself. He had assigned guard duty because it meant Flavian was responsible for, and answerable to, the entire garrison. It was not uncommon for legionaries to lynch sentries who fell asleep. Cassius was sure even the men of Alauran would treat such a failure seriously.

Strabo’s attention switched to the jangling bag of coins in Simo’s hand.

Cassius took the bag and tucked it behind his belt.

‘I believe you have a wall to rebuild.’

Glowering, the Sicilian left. Cassius grabbed the door as it swung shut and gestured for Barates to lead the way. The veteran looked exhausted.

‘Once we’ve spoken to the Syrians, you must get some sleep.’

‘I won’t deny I need it.’ Barates had just returned from the crest and dispatched a replacement sentry along with Julius and two camels.

Outside, the first section were collecting up the javelins left by the window. Barates had identified an able second in command to lead them in Cassius’ absence: Crispus was short, compact, immaculately turned out and he wore a miniature spear on his tunic, a decoration for bravery.

‘Should we take these over to the workshop, sir?’ Crispus asked, a bundle of the javelins under his arm. His beady, close-set eyes conveyed the impression that no detail escaped his notice. ‘They need cleaning and sharpening.’

‘Certainly. Then get started on the barracks. Leave beds, chests and the like for each man, but I want the corridors, washroom and latrine spotless.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Cassius had taken a quick look inside the barracks before the muster parade and had not been impressed. The latrine in particular needed attention; the three deep pits at the end of the barracks were giving off a terrible stench.

Barates turned towards Cassius as they set off for the Syrian encampment.

‘Centurion, I thought you wanted to know a little of their background before meeting Kabir.’

‘Yes, you can tell me as we walk.’

‘It may take a little longer than that. I wouldn’t want to you to go in there unprepared. We can’t afford to lose them.’

Cassius stopped.

‘Very well. Let’s shelter here a while. I can keep an eye on the men.’

The place he had in mind was a shady spot in front of the dwellings. They each sat down on a barrel and Barates began.

‘From what I’ve been able to gather, they are nomads, originally from the mountains of the north. Many of their people traded along the spice roads, travelling with caravans to the Orient and back. But since the rise of Palmyra, Zenobia has banned all but her own from profiting from such trade. They had to seek other means to pay their way – as you’ve seen, they can be effective auxiliaries.’

‘And Kabir?’

‘Their tribal leader. He speaks good Latin and knows something of the ways of the world. The others always look to him. Win him over and you’ve won them all.’

‘How do you suggest I do that?’

‘The money should help. How much do you have there?’

‘Two hundred denarii.’

‘A good start. But it is the promise of what they are owed that will keep them here.’

‘What is their custom? Shall I give it to him openly?’

‘Under no circumstances – he would consider it an insult. He’ll probably speak to you privately. Perhaps then.’