The Black Stone (35 page)

Cassius felt numerous eyes upon him as he walked across the oasis. Khalima’s men were repairing the tents, the women preparing a fire. Perhaps still upset by the storm, the children were being allowed to play. To Cassius they seemed a healthy, harmonious group and every single one of Khalima’s clan wore clean, well-cut clothing and at least one piece of jewellery. The best clothes, however – soft, lustrous red robes – were reserved for a trio of lovely young women cleaning their hands in the pool. They were the only adults not working.

‘Well?’ said Indavara when Cassius reached him, Mercator and Ulixes.

‘Possibly an improvement in our fortunes.’

‘Better than having a sword stuck in your neck, you mean?’

‘Oh, certainly.’

Mercator had stationed the horses by the edge of the oasis so there was no risk of them fouling the water. They had been roped together and were being watched by a few of the auxiliaries. The rest of the men were washing and refilling their water skins.

‘You were in there a long time,’ said the optio.

‘Worth every minute, I assure you. Khalima has already provided me with some useful information and now we must wait to see if he will help us into Galanaq.’

‘Isn’t that what I’m supposed to be doing?’ asked Ulixes.

‘You may be able to find the place but getting inside might be difficult.’

‘You seem very trusting of a man who seemed about ready to chop off your head an hour ago. What have you offered him in return?’

‘That’s between him and me,’ said Cassius. ‘But given what he’s revealed about the man who may have the stone, I doubt we have much of a chance without him.’

‘All right if I send Yorvah to try and find those two last mules?’ asked Mercator.

‘Not yet. No one has witnessed this meeting and Khalima would prefer it to stay that way. Until we have a decision let’s keep our heads down and try not to annoy him.’

‘Very well.’ The optio walked away.

Ulixes was still glaring at Cassius. ‘You
must
have asked him about the stone.’

‘No. And I don’t intend to unless I have to. As far as he’s concerned I need intelligence for the governor, nothing more. You’ll get the money when I see the stone. But until then keep your mouth shut about it. Say nothing to anyone.’

‘What about giving me
half
now?’

‘No chance.’

Indavara stepped in front of him. ‘You heard the man.’

As Ulixes sloped off, Simo walked up from the pool. He was leading Patch, who was licking water off his snout.

‘Are you all right, sir?’ asked the attendant. ‘I was starting to wonder if you’d ever come out of that tent.’

‘Fine, Simo. And our furry friend?’

‘Better now, sir. He must have been so frightened during the sandstorm – he was still shaking.’

‘Well, he couldn’t have timed his return any better. And if we hadn’t gone after him, I would not have met Khalima.’

Cassius stepped forward and tried to stroke the mule but it veered away towards Indavara, who ruffled one of its ears.

‘You know who really likes you and who doesn’t, don’t you, Patch? Very good judges of character, mules.’

‘Ha bloody ha.’

Cassius sat against a knobbly date palm, idly watching insects buzz around the pool. On the other side of the water, the fire was heating a steaming pot into which the women were dropping a seemingly endless series of ingredients. Most of the tents were now back up but the men continued with their repairs. Cassius guessed their horses had earlier been taken somewhere to shelter from the storm; a group of lads had just brought them back.

A few yards away, an old woman was supervising two young boys as they nimbly scaled another palm using belts. Given the season, Cassius knew they wouldn’t be collecting the dates but thinning them out to produce a better harvest later in the year. Their ascent had disturbed a small flock of colourful birds, some of which were now hunting in the reeds. According to Simo, they were bee-eaters: pretty little things with sky-blue chests, yellow throats and vicious-looking bills. Cassius knew of the breed; his grandfather had kept bees and once told him how they killed their prey. Once a bee was lodged in their bill, the birds would hammer it against something hard until the stinger fell out, then swallow their meal. Cassius was yet to see a single assassination.

The sun was currently veiled by cloud and, with the cooling effect of the water, the temperature was perfect. He might have dozed off had it not been for the anxious wait. Whatever Khalima’s decision, he at least knew something of his foe now: this warrior-priest Ilaha, who apparently wished to lead the Tanukh against Rome.

One thing was certain; the governor would have to know. A message wouldn’t reach him for at least three or four days and it would be two weeks before he could take any significant action in the area. So whatever Calvinus did, it would not interfere with the operation. But Cassius felt sure now that the nature of that operation had to change.

With what Khalima had revealed about the size of Ilaha’s force, it seemed doubtful they would be able to recover the stone. Even Abascantius wouldn’t expect him and the auxiliaries to mount a raid with no chance of success. Surely it made more sense to gather intelligence about Ilaha and the location of the stone, then return to Bostra. Perhaps Tribune Pontius would get his wish: march an army to Galanaq, reclaim the Emperor’s prize and regain control of the province.

Cassius was thinking how to word his letter to Calvinus when he noticed Mercator waving to him. The optio then pointed towards the camp. Khalima was striding across the sand.

Cassius felt even more eyes upon him this time and he wiped his clammy hands on his tunic. Sometimes he hated being in charge, making decisions, having such influence over the lives of others. Sometimes he wished he was a gardener or a scribe with no responsibility for anyone else. Just for a day, of course.

He met Khalima between the two camps.

‘I and a detachment of my men will escort you to Galanaq and get you inside the gates. The rest of my family will continue on to Petra.’

‘Excellent.’

‘I have some conditions.’

‘Go on.’

‘Firstly, our agreement must be laid down in writing and a copy despatched immediately to Governor Calvinus.’

‘Agreed.’

‘Secondly, we will add a clause that it remains valid even in the event of my death.’

‘Agreed.’

‘Thirdly, I am in charge until we reach Galanaq. Once there you must do what you have to without endangering me or my men.’

‘Of course. As you know, I simply wish to gather intelligence.’

‘If you or any of your men are caught or identified, I will deny all knowledge.’

‘Fair enough.’

‘Then we have an agreement. Can you have it drawn up in Greek tonight?’

‘Certainly.’

‘We will leave at first light,’ added Khalima. ‘But there are some practicalities to attend to.’ He looked past Cassius at the auxiliaries. ‘I have employed numerous sword-hands over the years. That should not arouse suspicion. Do they speak Nabatean?’

‘Every one.’

‘Who’s that fellow losing his hair?’

‘Ulixes. An associate.’

‘And the fat one?’

‘My attendant.’

Khalima scratched his chin. ‘They don’t look much like warriors but as least they’re dark enough. Not for Arabians but there are plenty of Syrians around these parts. Which leaves us with one remaining problem.’

‘Yes?’ said Cassius.

‘You.’

Dusk was close by the time they found the mule. Andal had located the other missing animal an hour earlier; it had been sighted wandering towards the formation where they’d sheltered. Bored by inactivity, Indavara had offered to help Mercator look for the last one. They found it south of the oasis at a smaller, angular outcrop of rock that resembled a fin.

The mule was drinking water that had collected in a hollow. The pair dismounted and closed in from either side but the beast showed no inclination to resist. In fact, it seemed happy to be in company once more and nuzzled Mercator’s horse. The optio roped it to his mount and they set off back towards the oasis on foot.

‘Might be dangerous down here, but there are some amazing sights.’

‘There are,’ replied Indavara.

Even his dislike of the dry, hot lands couldn’t blind him to the stark beauty of the place. The sunset had divided everything into layers. The closest flank of the Hejaz mountains was black, the distant peaks shrouded by grey. Above was a hazy band of orange, then the sun itself, a perfect yellow disc.

‘What do you think of this Khalima, then?’ said Mercator. ‘These desert folk can be tricky.’

‘Corbulo usually knows what he’s doing.’

‘And Ulixes?’

‘The sooner we get rid of him the better.’

‘Right,’ said Mercator. ‘Slimy bastard, that one.’

‘I wanted to ask – what’s it like in the army?’

‘Can’t really remember anything else. Been in since I was seventeen. Almost half my life.’

‘Have you been in many battles?’

‘Not many. One against the Persians, two against the Palmyrans.’

‘Corbulo fought the Palmyrans. At a fort.’

‘He told me. Doesn’t really seem the soldier type.’

Indavara would have put it in stronger terms than that but knew he shouldn’t criticise Corbulo too much in front of the optio. ‘He says we all have our strengths and weaknesses.’

‘Considering his job, I imagine he’s glad to have you by his side.’

Indavara didn’t reply.

‘And you?’ continued Mercator. ‘I assume you’ve been in more
fights
than battles.’

Indavara nodded.

‘How many?’

‘Enough.’

‘Don’t like talking much, do you?’

‘Doesn’t it annoy you? Being told what to do every hour of the day?’

‘I’m an optio. Once you reach that rank you spend more time giving orders than taking them.’

‘But you often have to do things you don’t want to.’

‘That’s life.’

‘Like what?’

‘Beating a man who won’t tow the line. Being sent out with a tax collector and having to get money off some poor bugger who doesn’t have two coins to rub together.’

‘All for Rome,’ said Indavara, kicking away a pebble.

‘Rome is not perfect,’ acknowledged Mercator. ‘I know both sides. But the army has given me a good life and the Empire brings order. And – for the most part – peace. Honestly, most of the time it’s just about looking after the men, getting them through.’

Indavara couldn’t imagine that. Having never had to look out for anyone other than himself, keeping an eye on Corbulo and Simo was more than enough for him. ‘Must be difficult.’

To Indavara’s surprise, Mercator laughed. ‘Gods, I remember my first few years. I’d get out of any job I could. I hated to be put in charge of anything.’

‘What changed?’

‘I’m not sure. But I remember one time when we’d chased a band of Palmyrans into the hills west of Apamea. Bloody diehards they were – dug themselves into these tunnels. Centurion needed volunteers. I was just a guard officer back then.’

‘You went in?’

‘Just me, a dagger and a lantern. By Mars, I’ve never been so scared.’

‘But you did it.’

‘I just realised I’d rather go myself than watch someone else do it.’

‘That took courage,’ said Indavara.

‘Or stupidity,’ replied Mercator with a smile. ‘Sometimes there’s a pretty thin line between the two.’