The Black Stone (62 page)

‘You were in league with Uruwat and the others,’ said another ethnarch. ‘They told you what we discussed at our first meeting.’

‘Not true,’ answered Cassius honestly.

A few of the Saracens spoke amongst themselves.

Cassius pounced on the next pause. ‘If I may, I should also mention that this “revolt” at Palmyra has been wildly exaggerated. Ilaha and others have used it to suggest a wider loss of control but this is simply not the case. The Emperor and his four legions will deal with it in a matter of days, then move south to crush the rebels in Egypt.’

Cassius dropped the ‘four’ in casually; and this too provoked a response. He in fact had no idea about the size of the Emperor’s force.

‘You mentioned the import tax,’ said Yemanek. ‘What can you offer us?’

‘As you will appreciate, I cannot make the deal. But I know the governor is open to negotiation on this point.’

‘That means nothing.’ said the double-chinned ethnarch. ‘He might simply refuse.’

‘I doubt that,’ replied Cassius. ‘After so long without contact from his Tanukh allies, he is very keen – I might even say desperate – to re-establish relations. I can get a message to Bostra from Humeima. Perhaps we could agree now that the ethnarchs will meet with Governor Calvinus, let us say in Petra, as soon as possible. I have the utmost confidence that he will attend and that agreement can be reached.’

‘You say whatever you think we wish to hear,’ said another of the ethnarchs – one of the men who had not yet spoken. ‘You are a spy. You will tell Calvinus that we were about to ride against him.’

‘Sir, unless you know differently, I wasn’t aware that you were riding to war, merely to make your point. Only Ilaha’s men have drawn Roman blood. He is the enemy of Rome. What I have seen today assures me that he is the only
true
enemy of Rome here.’

‘Well, he and the German,’ replied Kalderon with a sly look. ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s caught up with your friends by now. If he returned here with the stone, that would rather change things, wouldn’t it?’

‘Perhaps. But I would remind you that my friends stole it from right under that German’s nose – it would be unwise to underestimate them. And even if he did return with the stone, would it really change anything? Surely such an august body as the Confederation would not follow a leader who is now a proven liar and charlatan?’

‘There is no question of Ilaha leading anything any more,’ said Yemanek.

He then turned to the others and spoke for some time. At his prompting every man – Kalderon included – had their say. Cassius could glean little from their tone and at least a quarter of an hour passed until the Arabian finally addressed him again. Only Kalderon seemed unhappy with the decision.

‘You and your attendant are free to leave. Send your message to Calvinus and tell him that we await his invitation to Petra. If that meeting does not take place soon, my fellow ethnarchs and I might have to pay greater attention to less moderate voices.’

‘I shall of course do as you ask. I thank each of you for your time.’ Cassius bowed again and made a point of aiming the gesture towards Kalderon. ‘I am humbled to have stood in such esteemed company.’

One of the other ethnarchs handed him the spearhead and the letter. Cassius knew he should have left it at that, but he had to ask. ‘I am sorry, but I must mention this. What is to happen to Ilaha? And Khalima?’

‘I suggest you leave quickly, Roman,’ said Yemanek, suddenly angry, ‘and be grateful that we are about to discuss their fate, not yours.’

Indavara watched Nobus clamber past the highest of the painted faces, already three-quarters of the way up the north side of the cliff. The young auxiliary was apparently infamous for his climbing feats and had eagerly volunteered. Indavara supposed it was possible he also felt he had a better chance of survival up there. Whenever he spied a rock suitable for throwing, Nobus dropped it into his pack.

Indavara glanced around at the others. It was all about numbers now. Only the seven of them left; it just depended how many came through the pass.

He looked down at his sword and gripped the wooden hilt. Even though he’d had it only a few months, the finger ridges were beginning to wear down. It was a basic, inexpensive weapon; just like those he had fought with in the arena. Light, well balanced and sturdy, it had already served him well.

‘Here.’ Mercator handed him his allocation of arrows: six.

Indavara now had an opportunity to try out a quiver and he carefully placed the arrows inside. Itys was the best archer amongst the remaining auxiliaries so he had the other bow. He, Andal and Pelagius were now stationed to the right of the road; Indavara, Mercator and Bucoli to the left. Both groups were close to the boulders and outcrops they would use for cover when Ilaha’s men approached.

Ulixes was lying on a blanket a few yards behind them, working his way through a flask of wine and occasionally spitting curses.

‘You think we’re far back enough?’ asked Mercator, brushing dirt off the javelin he’d found rolling around in the cart.

‘Think so.’ They were about a hundred feet from the centre of the pass – close enough to use the bows when Nobus got things started, too far for their enemies to rush them. Ilaha’s men would be vulnerable.

‘Hope they haven’t got too many shields,’ added Indavara. ‘Shields could cause us a real problem. We’re lucky no one down here wears much armour.’

‘Right now I’m wishing I had mine,’ said Bucoli.

Mercator glanced across at the other three, who were staring anxiously at the pass. ‘By the gods, I took eighteen of them into Galanaq. Not even half left alive now.’

‘Yorvah told us to get the stone out,’ said Indavara. ‘Or else it was all for nothing. Who’s Marcella? His girl?’

‘Sister,’ said Bucoli.

‘His only relative,’ added Mercator. ‘Parents died years ago.’

‘Optio.’ Bucoli jabbed a finger up at the cliff.

Nobus had reached a natural shelf close to the top and was staring intently at something to the south.

‘Gods,’ breathed Bucoli. ‘They’re coming.’

Nobus turned and held up both hands, then repeated the gesture, then held up one finger.

‘Twenty-one,’ said Mercator, grimacing.

Bucoli began a prayer to Mars.

Indavara took a long last swig of water.

Once outside, Cassius found the tent still surrounded. As the ethnarchs summoned their senior men inside, Khalima and Simo hurried over to meet him. The Saracen was still being followed by the four guards.

‘Well?’ he asked.

‘They are allowing me and Simo to leave. They have agreed to meet with Calvinus in Petra.’

‘Praise to Dushara and the high gods. Something good has come of this.’

‘Khalima, listen …’

An older warrior wearing the yellow cloth of Yemanek’s tribe strode back out of the tent. He held his hands up and waited for quiet then shouted a few orders to the crowd.

‘He is telling them you are not to be harmed,’ explained Khalima.

To Cassius’s relief, few of the tribesmen seemed overly dismayed by this instruction.

The warrior then approached Khalima and gestured inside the tent. Khalima spoke calmly to him and the warrior allowed him to call over another tribesman standing close to Urunike. Tall and broad, the warrior wore a shabby tunic and a decrepit pair of sandals. But hanging from his belt was a long and very well-maintained sword.

‘This is Zebib,’ said Khalima. ‘I’ve known him since he was a child. He will watch over you and escort you to the Goat Trail. You are still in a great deal of danger – Kalderon’s men, Ilaha’s guards. Leave as soon as you can.’

Khalima spoke to Zebib in Nabatean.

Yemanek’s man was growing impatient. He tugged on Khalima’s tunic.

Cassius could find nothing to say.

‘I must go.’ Khalima straightened his back and walked into the tent.

Wherever Cassius looked he saw dark faces staring at him.

‘What now, sir?’ asked Simo.

‘We need mounts. Were there any left?’

‘I believe so, sir. And the mules.’

With Simo aiding him once more – and Zebib following two paces behind – they walked towards the track. The warriors moved slowly out of their way but Cassius kept his eyes on the ground. Only when they were through and approaching their tent did he turn and see the size of the crowd. There were easily a thousand of them, including hundreds of Ilaha’s guards.

‘Damn it.’ Cassius had turned his attention to the corral. Someone had taken the horses.

‘Zebib, we need two mounts.’

The big warrior looked confused.

‘I don’t think he speaks Greek, sir.’

Cassius had picked up the Nabatean word for horse and most of the numbers.

After the third repetition, the Arabian understood.

‘Urunike.’

‘Yes, ask Urunike.’

Zebib loped back towards Yemanek’s camp.

With Simo’s help, Cassius sat down outside the tent.

‘Sir, there was some water and food left inside. I’ll take what extra I can.’

Trying to ignore his aching ankle, Cassius looked across the canyon, beyond the still-smouldering compound. Somewhere over there was the Goat Trail. He could see nothing but an impenetrable wall of rock.

Indavara could hear the enemy but he couldn’t see them.

He looked up at Nobus, who was perched inches from the edge, peering downward. Andal and Pelagius were sitting against a boulder, swords lying in the sand beside them. Itys had positioned himself behind an outcrop at an ideal height; he could fire from a kneeling position with good cover. Indavara wiped sweat off his fingers – he didn’t want them sliding on the bowstring. Mercator and Bucoli were beside him, also staring at the pass. Thankfully, Ulixes had gone quiet.

The sound of the horses stopped.

Nobus was still watching. Indavara still couldn’t see them.

Gutha looked for any sign of an ambush but all he saw was the drawings; the open-mouthed, wide-eyed faces. In the middle of the pass was a slight rise so he couldn’t see the other side. But he remembered the ground – there was enough cover to conceal any number of men. Once in the narrowest section, they would have little room for manoeuvre.

‘Commander?’

The warriors in front of and behind him had also stopped. They looked afraid, thoughts of the javelin attack clearly still fresh in their minds.

‘We’ll go through on foot.’

Once they’d all dismounted and removed their packs, Gutha assigned two men to gather and rope the horses, then picked out six others.

‘You’re going first. Spread out and keep your eyes open.’

The men armed themselves and pulled down their hoods, then started up the slope.

Gutha had stopped to remove his armour before dawn; his plates, greaves and arm-guards were now packed on his saddle. He hoped he wouldn’t need them.