Centurion (48 page)

‘My lord Cassius Longinus, it is a great pleasure to welcome you back to the city.The news of your victory has been the cause of great joy and celebration in Palmyra.’

‘So I noticed,’ Longinus replied acidly as he nodded towards the avenue leading back through the city. ‘It seems that your people must still be sleeping it off.’

Thermon paused a moment as he understood the tone of the Roman’s remark and then he smiled at Balthus. ‘My prince, the king is delighted by your success and looks forward to embracing his conquering son.’

‘I’m sure,’ Balthus replied.

‘If we might get a move on,’ Longinus interrupted. ‘I must report to the king and then I must return to my army and see to the men’s needs.’

‘Of course, my lord. If you would be kind enough to follow me.’ Thermon bowed again and backed away through the entrance before turning to lead the party down a long wide hall whose walls were richly decorated with bright paintings celebrating the exploits of past kings of Palmyra. At the end of the hall were two large brass-plated doors which were swung open by palace guards to reveal the king’s audience chamber. Vabathus sat on his throne, raised above the heads of those around him by a round dais approached by a small flight of steps. A throng of Palmyran nobles and the richest men of the city stood before him in their best robes. They parted before Longinus and his party and retreated on each side. There were more guards inside the chamber and these now took up position to create an avenue of spears and shields leading towards the dais and King Vabathus.

Behind the general, Cato’s eyes darted round the chamber. He saw Sempronius standing close to the king, then looked over the crowd until he saw Julia, standing slightly apart from the rest beside one of the gilded pillars. He gave a brief nod towards her and smiled quickly. She half raised her hand in acknowledgement, her face illuminated by a mixture of relief and joy at the sight of him.

Thermon led Longinus up to the foot of the steps and then stood respectfully to one side as he announced them formally.

‘Your Majesty, I present Cassius Longinus, governor of the Roman province of Syria, his officers and Prince Balthus.’

The king nodded at his guests and there was a short pause before he drew himself up on his throne and spoke.

‘General Longinus, we welcome you to our palace. There are no words adequate to express my thanks to you and your fine soldiers.You have delivered us from the hands of Parthia and those traitors amongst my people who would have sold their city into slavery to the Parthian kingdom.’ There was a slight tremor in his voice as he continued. ‘I understand that Artaxes died on the battlefield, by the hand of Prince Balthus.That is, perhaps, fitting. But while I grieve for the loss of yet another son, even one who betrayed me, I accept that I am for ever in Rome’s debt.’

Cato noticed Balthus stir at these words. The prince frowned and his lips compressed into a thin line as his father continued.

‘Such is my gratitude that I have today signed a treaty with the ambassador of Emperor Claudius. Henceforth, Palmyra and its domain will be accorded the status of a client kingdom of the Roman Empire.’The king paused and looked straight at his surviving son. For a moment there was pity in his eyes and then sad resignation. ‘I understand, full well, that this treaty will not be to the liking of some of my people. But the choice that faces us is between being an ally of Rome or a conquest of Parthia.’

‘No!’ Prince Balthus shook his head, then pointed at his father. ‘You know what client status means, Father. Once you are gone, Palmyra will become a Roman province. We will lose our independence. We will lose our king and fall under the heel of Rome.’

‘Yes,’ Vabathus said loudly. ‘But that is the price that I must pay, and that you must accept.’

‘I shall not accept it,’ Balthus replied hotly.’It is the king’s duty to preserve his kingdom. Anything less would be a betrayal of the people of Palmyra.’

‘You speak to me of betrayal,’ Vabathus said icily. ‘You dare to speak to me of betrayal? You who betrayed your own flesh and blood and ordered the death of your brother Amethus?’

Balthus shook his head.’I did no such thing!You have no proof.’

‘No?’ Vabathus turned to the side and barked out an order. ‘Bring him out here, where all can see.’

There was a soft grunt and moan of pain and some sounds of shuffling footsteps from behind the dais, and then two of the king’s bodyguards emerged carrying a dirty bundle of rags and scabbed and bruised flesh between them. They dragged their burden round to the front of the throne and threw it down.

‘What is this?’ General Longinus stepped back with a look of disgust. ‘This . . . this man?’

The king ignored the Roman and fixed his attention on his son. ‘Balthus, surely you recognise the most loyal of your slaves?’

Prince Balthus stared down at the man huddled on the ground, battered and bloodied all over, and yet still clinging on to life as the bones of his ribcage rose and fell in a fluttering rhythm. Slowly a look of horror filtered on to Balthus’ face as he grasped the truth. ‘Carpex,’ he muttered. ‘Carpex? What have you done? What have you said?’

The slave suddenly seemed to become acutely aware of his surroundings and recoiled from the voice as if he had been struck a hard blow.

‘Master.’ The slave’s voice was little more than a hoarse whisper. ‘O master, I beg for your pardon. I-‘

‘Silence, you slave dog!’Vabathus roared out. ‘How dare you speak in the presence of your king?’ He glared at Carpex as the slave shrank back with a look of terror. Vabathus nodded and gave a small sneer of satisfaction as he turned back to his son and continued. ‘Balthus, this worthless scum provided us with all the answers we needed, once enough torture had been applied.This slave confirmed what I already suspected, that it was you who gave the order to kill Amethus. And that it was Carpex who carried it out.’

‘Lies!’ Baltus blustered. ‘Lies, I tell you.’ He took a step forward and kicked Carpex. ‘This slave is deceiving you, Father. I had nothing to do with it. I swear by almighty Bel.’

‘Quiet!’ Vabathus glared at his son. ‘Would you debase yourself even further by lying under oath to the city’s God? Have you no honour at all?’ He rose up and stabbed his finger towards the prince. ‘You are no son of mine. I renounce you. A common killer and traitor is what you are, and there can only be one punishment for such crimes. Guards, seize him!’

As the mercenaries closed in on him Balthus gritted his teeth and looked round like a cornered animal. His hand dropped to the handle of his sword and he swiftly drew the blade with a quick rasp and pointed it towards the nearest of the bodyguards.

‘Another step towards me and I’ll gut you.’

‘Put that sword down!’ Vabathus ordered. ‘You cannot escape.’

For a moment Balthus stared defiantly at his father, and then took a deep breath and lowered his head. The tension eased for an instant and the guards paused a moment before continuing their approach towards the prince. At that moment Balthus sprang towards Carpex and his blade glittered through the air. Even as the slave let out a terrified cry the sword cut through the bony hand he had flung up to protect himself.The finely honed edge sliced through the arm and continued on through the slave’s throat and buried itself in his spine, silencing the cry. Blood spurted across the floor of the audience chamber as Carpex fell back, his head almost severed. Balthus watched with a look of contempt as the body trembled a moment and then lay still. Then he threw his sword down and made no effort to resist as the bodyguards seized him and pinned his arms behind his back.

‘Get him out of here,’ Thermon ordered, then turned to some more men and pointed to the slave’s body. ‘And remove that.’

Balthus was dragged from the chamber under the eyes of the Roman officers and the Palmyran nobles. Once he had gone, Vabathus’ shoulders drooped wearily and he stepped down from the dais.

‘Thermon, I am returning to my quarters. See to it that I am not disturbed.’

The chamberlain glanced awkwardly at Longinus and the Roman officers. ‘But,Your Majesty, the celebrations . . . the banquet tonight.’

‘Celebrations?’Vabathus shook his head. ‘What have I to celebrate?’

He was still for a moment, then continued. ‘But you are right.The celebrations must go ahead.They will not be spoiled by the absence of a grieving old man. See to it,Thermon.’

He turned and made his way to the small rear entrance to the audience chamber. The nobles bowed their heads as he passed, but Vabathus ignored them, staring down at the floor as he walked through them, disappeared through the small doorway and left them standing in silence.

Long shadows were stretching across the palace courtyard as Macro stood stiffly to attention in front of General Longinus and the Roman ambassador. The two senators were sitting at a small table drinking lemon-scented water. Behind them a slave wafted air over them with a large fan made from woven palm leaves.

Longinus lowered his cup and cleared his throat. ‘So then, Centurion Macro, what is it that you want to say to us?’

‘Sir, it isn’t right. This business with Balthus. The man saved my neck, and those of every man in the relief column. He fought alongside us in the citadel, and that battle with the Parthians. He’s a brave man,’ Macro concluded with a firm nod. ‘It’d be wrong to let him be killed like a dog. It ain’t right, sir.’

General Longinus pursed his lips for a moment, as if in thought. ‘I see. And I agree, we owe him a debt of gratitude. Under any other circumstances there would be no question of letting him go to his death like this.’

Macro felt a leaden fatalism settle on his heart at the general’s words. ‘What do you mean, sir? Under any other circumstances?’

Sempronius leaned forward. ‘If I might explain the situation to our friend here?’

Longinus waved a hand dismissively. ‘Be my guest.’

The ambassador looked at Macro and smiled sadly. ‘I’ve no doubt that what you say about the prince is true.’

‘Then why must he die?’ Macro cut in stubbornly.

‘Political necessity, that’s why. Rome needs to make Palmyra a client kingdom. We must have that treaty, and so must Vabathus.There is no place in the new arrangement for Balthus. He cannot become the ruler of Palmyra. Balthus knows that and would scheme against his father just as Artaxes did before him, just as surely as summer follows spring.Why else would he have had his other brother killed? He was clearing his way to the throne.’ Sempronius waited a moment to let his words sink in. ‘I’m sorry, Centurion. There’s nothing we can do about it. Prince Balthus may well have fought at your side. He may well be a brave man. But he is also ruthless and ambitious and if he was allowed to live, then there would be no peace in Palmyra. So, tomorrow morning, Prince Balthus will be executed.’

Macro felt a wave of bitterness welling up inside him and it took a great deal of self-control to bite back on his anger. He looked at the two men with contempt. ‘Political necessity, you say. That’s a fine euphemism, sir. From where I’m standing, it just looks like murder.’

Longinus set his cup down violently.’Now just a minute, Centurion! I’ve had enough of your impertinence. I’ve a good mind to-‘

‘Macro’s right,’ Sempronius interrupted. ‘Strip away the weasel words and it’s murder, plain and simple. There’s no hiding that. But it changes nothing, Centurion. For the good of all, Balthus must be disposed of . . .’The ambassador smiled self-deprecatingly. ‘He must be killed. There is no alternative. Do you understand?’

‘Yes.’

‘Good. Then there’s one last thing.’ Sempronius reached inside the bag that rested on the ground beside his stool and pulled out a folded document bearing the imperial seal. ‘The imperial courier brought this with the other dispatches yesterday. It’s addressed to you and Cato.’

Macro took the letter and glanced at the words under the seal. ‘From Narcissus, Imperial Secretary. Bound to be bad news.’

Sempronius chuckled and after a moment Macro joined in. ‘Well, I’d better read it through and find Cato.’

‘Yes.’ Sempronius nodded, and then smiled at some private amusement. ‘I imagine you will find that remarkable young man in the king’s gardens.’

‘Cato! Cato! Where are you?’

Macro strode through the garden courtyards, looking round the potted shrubs and trees that were arranged around ornate colonnades and peristyles. A short distance behind him hurried Jesmiah, still in the tattered remains of her stola and cloak. Around them the cooling dusk air brought out the scent of jasmine and other herbs. The final preparations were being made for the night’s banquet and many of the king’s courtiers and servants were either sitting down enjoying the evening while they could or passing through the gardens on some errand or other.They stopped conversing and glanced irritably towards the bellowing Roman officer.

‘Cato, where are you, damn it?’

A figure rose up from a stone bench and waved to attract Macro’s attention in the failing light. ‘Over here.’

‘Ah! At bloody last!’ Macro strode towards his friend, and drew the opened letter from Narcissus from inside his harness. ‘News from Rome! Great news.’

As Macro approached the bench he saw another person sitting just beyond Cato and drew up awkwardly as he realised who it was. ‘Miss Julia, sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt anything.’

‘Oh, that’s all right.’ She beamed at him.’We’ve said what needed saying. Don’t mind me.’

‘Fair enough.’ Macro turned to Cato and thrust the letter at him. ‘Read that.’

‘Can’t it wait?’ Cato replied, then cocked his head slightly to one side as he caught sight of the girl behind his friend. ‘Who is this?’

Macro glanced round, and waved her forward. Jesmiah stepped up to join the others shyly. Macro placed his hand on her shoulder as he explained. ‘This is Jesmiah. She and her baby brother were with us in the citadel.’

The full implication of his words was not lost on Cato, who shifted uneasily as he recalled the harsh manner in which the civilians had been forced out of the citadel.

Macro continued. ‘Her family died in the revolt, and her brother followed them yesterday. He was no more than an infant and very ill during the siege. Now Jesmiah has no one to look out for her. So, I was wondering . . .’Macro fixed his gaze on Julia. ‘A young Roman lady is always in need of good servants and companions, from what I’ve heard.’