The Black Stone (47 page)

‘Some hard man, you. I’d forgotten how easily you fall for conjurer’s tricks.’

‘What tricks? Didn’t you see the power of this god? We cannot fight this thing with blades.’

Cassius turned his ire on Simo. ‘And what about you? Ready to give up your precious lord for a new one?’

‘No, sir. It must have been the work of a demon. It
must
have been.’

Mercator and others had reached the top of the slope.

‘Make way,’ Cassius told Indavara and Simo. The entrance to the tomb was a long, narrow passageway. Farther on it twisted and turned some distance into the canyon wall. Cassius waved the men along until they were in a row well away from the door.

‘This won’t take long,’ he said. ‘Nobody need talk but me.’

He looked along the line, meeting every soldier’s gaze before continuing. ‘I’m not in the habit of telling people what to believe but unless you men stay calm we’re not going to get out of this. So I shall not tell you what I believe, but three things I
know
.’

He waited until he was sure they were all listening. ‘Number one: I can’t tell you exactly where that voice was coming from but I do know of another group whose god told them to follow one man. If you think that’s how it should be, why not forget Lord Ilaha and worship Jesus Christ? Any takers?’

Cassius made sure he didn’t look at Simo.

‘Number two: I know – and you know – that we are without question enemies of this man Ilaha, yet no light shone upon us.’

Cassius let that one hang in the air a while.

‘Number three: Each and every one of you has sworn an oath not only to the Empire and the Emperor, but to the god of gods, great Jupiter – a god who does not
tell
his people what to do, but a god who
listens
. I know,
I know
, that even here, in this dark place, in this dark time, you will
not
forsake him.’

One of the men dropped to his knees. It was Yorvah; and for once the cheerful guard officer could not have looked more earnest. ‘All praise Jupiter. God of gods.’

Cassius knelt too. Next was Andal, then about two-thirds of the men. Mercator briefly glanced outside, then followed. The remaining auxiliaries did so too.

Cassius continued: ‘All praise Jupiter, god of gods. Please watch over us and deliver us from this place. Protect us from those who wish us harm. All praise Jupiter, god of gods.’

The men repeated the prayer.

Cassius stood up. ‘Wait down at the camp. I’ll brief you all later.’

The men filed out. Cassius gave a nod of appreciation to Yorvah. Mercator hung back. ‘I’m sorry. I—’

‘Don’t worry. Just get them ready to move – without looking like they’re getting ready to move.’

‘Will do.’ Mercator followed the others down the slope.

‘You’re a clever bastard, I’ll give you that,’ said Indavara. ‘But I know what
I
believe, and I’m not going anywhere near that rock.’

‘Forget the rock,’ replied Cassius. ‘Let’s just get out of this bloody place alive.’

Gutha wasn’t sure what to believe. He stood alone on the path, still gazing down at the platform. The stone had been covered once more and only half a dozen guards remained. The men stood in pious silence, facing outward. Judging by their faces, they would have preferred another duty.

Other than them, and the guards at the inner gate, the previously packed canyon was now deserted. Ilaha had retreated into the caverns – to rest, he said – before a later meeting with his commanders.

In the moment of the vision, Gutha had felt so convinced, so sure; and he could not forget that voice. At the end, when every last warrior had knelt before him, Ilaha had walked past with a victorious look upon his face. Was it aimed at Gutha himself – the satisfaction of showing him the true power of the sun god? Or was it solely because he knew now the other ethnarchs could not resist him?

It was then that the doubts struck. Amongst all the hundreds of men serving the likes of the hostile Enzarri and Mushannaf, the traitor had come from Kalderon’s ranks? And Kalderon himself had abandoned his man almost automatically, without pause or question.

And yet that light, that voice.

Some ill-defined thought lurked at the back of his mind, yet to fully form and offer itself. Something was wrong.

He heard a shout from the gate. A waving guard pointed to a lad running along the path. As he got closer, Gutha recognised him as one of the boys who delivered messages around the town. When he took the note, he saw his name written in one corner. The handwriting was familiar.

Qattif’s horse was tied up outside the inn. Judging by the state of it, he’d not been there long. The parlour was empty apart from Alome, who was sweeping up behind the counter.

‘Wine?’

Gutha shook his head.

Qattif was sitting alone on a stool by the unlit hearth, a mug on the table in front of him. On the floor were his sword and saddlebags.

‘Afternoon,’ said the nomad. ‘Sounds like I missed all the excitement.’

‘What do you have for me?’

‘I had to spend a lot.’

‘You’ll get it back,’ growled Gutha as he sat down.

Qattif reached inside his tunic and pulled out a worn sheet of paper. He laid it out on the table between them. ‘It’s all a bit complicated so I took some notes.’ He ran a finger down his bony nose. ‘You really wouldn’t believe how much I had to spend.’

Gutha’s hand thumped down onto the table. One of the legs cracked but it stayed upright. Qattif’s mug, however, had landed on his saddlebags, spilling wine all over them. He would have grabbed it if not for the look on Gutha’s face. ‘I suppose I can clean that up later.’

He coughed, straightened the page and began. ‘I eventually found the only man still in the village who knew anything about the old girl. Like everyone else he was reluctant to talk about it so I had to give him … well, anyway, here’s what he told me. It turns out one of his aunts had lived quite close to this “queen”’s family – this would be about fifty years ago now. Her name was Kara Julia. Apparently she was quite a beauty in her day and she caught the eye of a young local priest. Rumour had it they were lovers. A few years later this priest became popular with the local legion. It was a time of great unrest for the Romans and he also happened to have certain influential family connections. You’re not going to believe this next bit.’

‘He became Emperor of Rome. Elagabalus of Emesa.’

‘You know the story, then?’

‘The basics. Continue.’

‘When Elagabalus journeyed to Rome he insisted that this Kara Julia accompany him. He never married her but kept her as a consort through most of his four-year reign. As you will know, things didn’t go well for him. He lost his mind before the end and rejected her. She was cast out with not a coin to her name and returned to Syria, to this village. Even so, she told everyone that she had been his “queen”. A few weeks later Elagabalus was assassinated. Talk of his insanity and depravity had spread even to Syria and she was shunned by what remained of her family and the other villagers. So she was cast out again, and went to live alone in this house I mentioned before.

‘Except she wasn’t alone for long. She had been with child before her return. When anyone saw her, she would rant and rave about how her son would be a great man, a leader, a king. But she bore a daughter. It was said that she had inherited her mother’s beauty but that she was simple; because Kara Julia had tried to strangle her for not being a boy. When the child was older she would offer her to the men of the village but none of them would go near the place, or the girl.

‘Apparently Kara Julia began to study lore and magic and eventually tempted a traveller to the house. He stayed – and when it became known that the daughter was with child, lived with them as a family. A boy was born but the mother and father disappeared not long after. The villagers were sure Kara Julia had poisoned them. When the boy was fully grown, the pair of them left.’

‘Ilaha joined Charaz’s tribe—’

‘And eventually became the leader his “mother” wanted. Quite a tale, eh?’

Gutha sat back and stared at the floor. Ilaha – grandson of a mad Roman emperor; raised by Elagabalus’s murderous mistress. And he wasn’t even Arabian.

Qattif at last felt safe to retrieve the mug and wipe down his bags. ‘Er, Commander, if it’s all right with you, I was thinking of taking a few days off. Done a lot of riding of late.’

Gutha was preoccupied. ‘What did you say?’

Qattif repeated himself.

‘You have done well. But I have one last job for you. Come.’

Up in the bedroom, Gutha counted out one hundred aurei and placed them inside a tatty sack. ‘Here. Deliver that to my man in Gaza and you can take a tenth.’

Qattif’s eyes lit up. ‘Very generous. Thank you. Should I come back here after? I mean, will you—’

‘You’ve got your orders.’

‘Very well. The Goat Trail will be quickest. I shall try and get away tomo—’

‘Today.’

‘I shall leave today.’

‘Qattif – that
was
quite a tale. Don’t be tempted to tell it to anyone else. Not here. Not anywhere.’

‘As you wish. One more thing, Commander. Ilaha – the name. I asked around up in Syria. People had only heard of it as the first part of a longer name – Ilaha Gabal – the ancient version of Elagabal.’

‘You’re quiet, Gutha.’ Oblachus was sitting on the other side of the table. ‘Still hearing that voice in your head? Me too. I must admit I had my doubts when he took up these priestly ways. Nor did I understand why he was so determined to take the stone. Now I see it is the will of Mighty Elagabal that we embark on this struggle. What a sight it will be – thousands of us riding together. Those legionaries at Humeima won’t believe their eyes.’

‘But will it be enough to force concessions from Calvinus?’ said Theomestor.

‘I hope the old drunk does make a fight of it,’ replied Oblachus. ‘The light of Elagabal will blind the legions as we fall upon them.’

Theomestor didn’t appear excited by the prospect. ‘I would have thought a man of your age had seen enough bloodshed.’

‘Depends on whose blood is being shed.’ Oblachus turned his attention back to Gutha. ‘Come, man, drink with us.’

Reminding himself to keep up appearances, Gutha downed the wine and raised his mug with the other two. He wasn’t particularly keen on either man. Oblachus was as arrogant as he was ugly, Theomestor conservative and parochial. But the pair were capable and – more importantly – loyal. Gutha wondered how long they would remain so if they knew what he did.

The door opened and Ilaha entered, once more in simple robes. Like the others, Gutha stood and bowed.

Ilaha smiled as they all sat down. ‘Since the ceremony I have received messages from Enzarri, Uruwat and Mushannaf. They have pledged themselves unconditionally to our cause.’

‘Every last swordsman will fight for you, Lord Ilaha,’ said Oblachus.

‘How are the preparations proceeding?’

‘More mounts have arrived and more will be brought up from the valley in the morning. There will be one for every man and a hundred spare. We have also sent word to our patrols – those men will join us on the Incense Road. By the time we reach Humeima, there will be two thousand behind you bearing the sun upon their chest. Each warrior will carry extra supplies of fodder and the baggage will follow in a few days. We can use the springs in the northern Hejaz if necessary. We can make camp wherever you need us to, for as long as you need us to.’

‘Excellent. Commander Theomestor?’

The aged warrior delivered his report in a rather more sober manner. ‘If the other ethnarchs and their men do indeed ride out with us tomorrow, we can count on at least another six hundred warriors from their honour guards. Kalderon and our other long-standing allies have already sent messages to their homelands. If they all produce the numbers they have promised, our total force will number somewhere between eight and nine thousand men.’

‘More than a legion,’ said Ilaha.

‘With many more in reserve, if required,’ added Theomestor.

Oblachus turned to Gutha. ‘And only two centuries at Humeima? You’re sure of the intelligence?’