The Siege (49 page)

Then he did read the names, and tears ran freely down his face. By the time he put the last tablet on the ledge, the top of his tunic was wet. He gathered water from the pail and cleaned his face, then closed his eyes for a moment and composed himself. He turned round and walked over to the legionaries.

Domitius saw him and nodded to the others. The five exhausted legionaries dragged themselves to their feet, all holding their cups of wine. Smiling, Domitius gave another full cup to Cassius.

‘Here’s to you, sir. You did us proud.’

Domitius held his cup high.

‘Centurion Corbulo.’

‘Centurion Corbulo,’ repeated the men.

Cassius raised his cup and took his first sip of wine in almost a week, savouring every bitter drop. The sound of the approaching cavalry was now thunderous. The tip of a standard appeared over the eastern wall. Glancing back at the legionaries, Cassius knew with a sudden, irresistible certainty that he could lie to them no longer.

‘There’s something I must tell you. I am not a centurion. I haven’t even been assigned to a legion. I am an officer of the Imperial Security Service.’

‘A grain man?’ said one man incredulously.

‘Out here?’ said another.

‘Yes. Syria is my first posting. I thought I would be doing . . . paperwork.’ Cassius smiled and shook his head. ‘I thought I would be behind a desk.’

The legionaries stayed quiet, staring at each other in disbelief. The ground-shaking impact of hundreds of hooves had reached a crescendo. They turned to see a line of horses being skilfully guided past the collapsed dwelling, through the scattered bodies and abandoned weapons. At the head of the column was the standard-bearer: a muscular veteran with flecks of grey in his heavy beard. Mounted on the pole in his hands was a flag bearing the legend of the Sixteenth Legion.

A smaller, younger and far more noble-looking man urged his horse past the standard-bearer and brought it up close to the barracks. His tunic carried a broad blue stripe and he wore a fine scarlet cloak over his armour. He removed his helmet, smoothed down his hair and looked impassively down at the small band of legionaries.

‘I am Tribune Gallio Artorius Andronicus. Who is in charge here?’

The legionaries were standing between Andronicus and Cassius. Not one of them said a word.

‘Well?’ demanded the tribune. ‘Who is in charge?’

After a moment, Domitius turned round and looked at Cassius. With a trace of a smile and a slight nod, he moved aside. Another man turned, nodded to Cassius and moved out of the way. One after another, each of the other legionaries did the same, until there was clear space between the two officers.

Recalling Strabo’s last words, Cassius straightened his back and raised his chin.

‘I am, sir. I am.’

HISTORICAL NOTE

I have made every effort to be historically accurate where possible. What follows are a few comments about some of the more contentious issues relating to this period and some ‘confessions’ regarding the few occasions when I have knowingly strayed from the historical consensus.

With the exception of Claudius II, Aurelian, Odenathus, Queen Zenobia, General Zabdas and General Zabbai, all other characters in the story are fictional. Alauran itself is also an invention.

The story takes place in the summer of
AD
270. In some general or older historical texts, Claudius’ date of death is placed early in the year but in most modern volumes focusing on this era, August or September is suggested. A short period of uncertainty followed until Aurelian came to the fore.

Historians remain largely in the dark about the details of the Palmyran revolt. Recently, there has been a cluster of texts focusing on this event, particularly on Zenobia herself. Several authors now question whether the term ‘revolt’ is even appropriate. Zenobia has been traditionally (and often romantically) cast as ‘the rebel queen’, but there is considerable evidence that she tried to reach an accommodation with Rome. (It should also be noted that there is in fact little convincing evidence that she was involved in her husband’s death.) Multiple reasons have been offered for the deterioration of relations and her real motives, but the fact remains that sometime around late 269 or 270 her forces occupied Arabia, Palestine and Egypt. It is probable that the invasion of Egypt occurred later than I have suggested in Chapter I.

This story, of course, takes place in Syria and the question of the extent to which Palmyra already ‘controlled’ the province remains confused. It is possible that after Odenathus’ victories over the Persians, the Roman administration operated under the aegis of Palmyra. The Romans certainly honoured Odenathus – grateful that he had filled the ‘power vacuum’ – but his precise role remains obscure. We do know, however, that after his death different factions expressed a variety of attitudes towards Zenobia’s rule. One of her supporters may have been Paul of Samosata, the Bishop of Antioch who caused such controversy with his ‘heretical’ theology and unconventional behaviour. (I should mention here, however, that many modern texts doubt that any such alliance ever existed.)

Very little is known about the precise nature of the military confrontations that took place. We cannot even be entirely sure which legions were stationed in Syria, certainly not which ones remained loyal to the Roman cause and fought the Palmyran units that had so recently been their allies. We do know that the Third Legion (
Legio III Gallica
) was based in Syria both before and after this period, so it seemed a logical choice.

There is evidence that Palmyran operations in northern Syria were led by General Zabbai and that they had still not achieved a complete military victory by 271. This raises the spectre of a protracted campaign, and provides the backdrop for the events of this novel.

Had the garrison at Alauran or any similar Roman detachment won such a victory, it would in all likelihood have been fairly short-lived. Though it is clear some form of organised opposition held up the advance, by the end of 271 Palmyran forces had reached deep into Asia Minor – as far as Ankara in modern Turkey.

Zenobia, too, had little time to enjoy her triumph. The Emperor Aurelian struck back at her in 272 and by the autumn Palmyra was back in Roman hands. The Queen, according to most accounts, was put on trial, then taken to Rome in chains.

The next story in this series is set during the aftermath of the Roman victory, with Cassius hunting a stolen Persian standard crucial to the signing of a peace treaty.

Legionaries would have been used to young officers; after all, serving tribunes were often in their twenties. Centurions, however, would generally have been seasoned veterans in their thirties and forties promoted from the ranks. Young, directly commissioned centurions were rare. It is widely acknowledged, however, that well-connected individuals could attain the rank in this way.

The term ‘Imperial Security Service’ is my own invention but the details about the organisation in Chapter I are accurate. It has been variously described as a ‘secret police force’, ‘internal security force’ or ‘secret service’. The reputation of its operatives was as bad – if not worse than – I have suggested here. Most of its agents would have been recruited from the legions but I don’t think it’s beyond the realms of possibility that a young man such as Cassius (with the right connections, of course) could have been directly appointed to its ranks. The ‘grain man’ nomenclature is also accurate, the Latin version being
frumentarius
.

Some other issues: regarding the ethnicity of the legionaries at Alauran, it’s likely that many of them would have been Syrian. I chose to make most of them from other provinces to heighten the differences between the Romans and Kabir’s local tribesmen. We do know that many Thracians – such as Avso and friends – fought in the Syrian legions.

The coins featuring Vaballathus, discovered in the possession of the enemy spy, would probably not have been minted by the summer of 270 but it was a point of interest I really wanted to include.

Cassius’ reference to the Battle of Sardis during the cavalry attack concerns a recorded incident from the year 546
BC
. Knowing the effect that camels could sometimes have on horses, Cyrus the Great of Persia removed the baggage from his pack animals and ordered his cavalry to chase them towards the advancing Lydian steeds. The enemy horses reacted badly and fled, forcing their riders to dismount. Cyrus’ actions turned the tide of the battle; the Persians were victorious.

Historical novels are impossible without the work of historians. I am greatly indebted to those academics whose texts aided the completion of this story. I would encourage any readers with an interest in Queen Zenobia to investigate all the recent publications and their differing takes on this fascinating, if somewhat opaque, period.

Of all the many texts I used, there is one that I returned to time and again, and which continues to be a trove of useful information as I work on the second Agent of Rome novel. That book is the vivid and accessible
Roman Syria and the Near East
by Professor Kevin Butcher of the University of Warwick.

Those more learned than I may take issue with certain details and aspects of the story, but that’s precisely what it is. Any errors are mine.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I began this novel in 2005 and the road to publication has been a long one. I must take this opportunity to acknowledge all those who have offered me unstinting support not only during that period but ever since I started writing.

Principal amongst them is my dad Neil. He has read every page of every manuscript I have produced. Always positive, he has been there through thick and thin (mostly thin if I am honest!). Calling to tell him
Agent of Rome
was being published was a fantastic moment.

The next person I called was my aunt, Anne Attwood. She has always been unfailingly enthusiastic and helpful in encouraging my writing.

My cousin Matthew Amiss and his wife Becky have been cheerleaders for the book since day one. Their support provided me with a genuine boost when things were looking grim.

My editor, Oliver Johnson, has been a real ally. His attention to detail and forthright opinions have been hugely beneficial. I must also thank Sophie Missing and all the numerous others at Hodder & Stoughton who have contributed.

This book would not exist without my agent David Grossman. I will always be grateful to him for seeing the potential of the story, securing the deal with Hodder, and the advice he has given me over the last year.

Thanks to my old pal Neil Harrison for the map of Alauran.

Other friends took the time to read various drafts and provide me with some very useful feedback: Adrian Smith (mostly over a pint or five in the bars of Warsaw), Kate March and Lindsay Roffe.

I must also mention all the other people who have shown an interest and provided encouragement over the years: My brother Joff and his wife Emma, Daniel & Emma Amiss, Renata Sledziewska, Sarah Taylor, Justin Highstead, Tony Roffe, Andy Layzell, Dominic Watson, Mark & Diane Taylor, Chris & David Orwin, Bob & Iris Illingworth and Lorry & Sue Vanner.

Finally, I must express my heartfelt gratitude to my beloved late mother Joan. Her contribution dates back to before I even started writing: she gave me the confidence to believe I could do it.

Nick Brown, Warsaw, November 2010
.