The Black Stone (38 page)

At dusk they made camp by the road. Khalima seemed confident the weather was set fair and with sentries drawn from both his men and the auxiliaries on guard, the night passed without incident.

As evening approached on the following day, the Incense Road began to veer east, at which point they left it. Khalima picked up a westbound track even less clearly marked than the road and within a few hours they came to a pass between two imposing peaks, each at least a thousand feet high. Scree lined the pale grey slopes and lay close to the track.

Khalima insisted they were still too far from Galanaq to be concerned about Ilaha’s men, but brigands were known to operate in the area and he advanced warily through the pass. Twice they stopped because of noises from above but it was nothing more than sliding scree.

Beyond the pass, they found themselves in a landscape unlike any Cassius had seen or could ever have imagined. Separating them from the next group of mountains was a plain perhaps three miles across. The ground was unremarkable – sand dotted with thin shrubbery – but the shapes of the scattered rock formations were surreal. Sandy brown in colour, some resembled pyramids and towers, others enormous logs or beehives. Dead ahead was one so weathered and striated that it looked like a giant mushroom – a broad, curved head standing on a narrow body.

Adayyid had ridden at the rear for most of the day. ‘Good shelter and a spring,’ he told Cassius and Mercator. ‘We will spend the night there.’

Cassius looked south and spotted a distant line of camel-riders also heading west. ‘What about them?’

The Saracen seemed unconcerned. ‘Could be a caravan headed for the coast. Or going to Galanaq like us.’

Khalima opted for the northern end of the ‘mushroom’ and the entire party was able to shelter under the enormous overhang. As he dismounted, Cassius noted Indavara glancing warily upward.

‘Feels like it could fall at any moment, eh?’

‘I don’t want to sleep under that.’

‘Calm yourself, it’s probably been there for thousands of years.’

‘At least,’ said Khalima, stretching his arms as he walked over to them. He pointed at the base of the formation. ‘There are ancient drawings there. People have been stopping at this place since the beginning of time.’

‘You saw the riders?’ asked Cassius, taking off the sword Mercator had lent him.

‘I did. Tomorrow we will join the road to Galanaq – I’d be surprised if we didn’t see many others converging on the town.’

‘These ethnarchs,’ said Cassius, lowering his voice. ‘How many men will they have with them?’

‘Usually they travel with an honour guard of their finest warriors. Perhaps fifty or a hundred swords. Although Ilaha has organised the meeting alone, it is not unlike a gathering of the Tanukh. These occasions can be a chance for the chiefs to show off their riches and their strength.’

‘And Ilaha?’

‘He has a hand in the caravan trade himself and has gathered around him the single largest force of warriors. Probably two or three thousand men, though there won’t be that many at Galanaq. The town is small and there is little fertile land close by.’

Cassius would have liked to grill Khalima about every last detail of the place but that risked betraying his true purpose.

‘How long are you intending to stay there?’ asked the Saracen.

‘Until this meeting of the ethnarchs at least. In case I can glean any information about the result and their future intentions.’

‘As long as you don’t expect me to provide it.’

‘Of course not.’

The pair moved aside to let the auxiliaries lay out their bags and bedding.

‘By the way,’ said Khalima, ‘there are only two ways in and out. One is the road we will pick up tomorrow. The other is what they call the Goat Trail. Horses and camels can just about get through. It runs west all the way to the coast and comes out not far from the port at Leuke Kome.’

The Saracen moved off. ‘We shall get a fire going. The nights can be very chilly under all this cold rock.’

Cassius hurried over to Mercator. ‘Sounds like we’ll be encountering more tribesmen tomorrow; others headed for Galanaq, perhaps even Ilaha’s guards. I want the men to mix with Khalima’s people; get to know each other, practise your Nabatean.’

‘Very well.’

Cassius picked his way through the auxiliaries over to Ulixes. The ex-legionary had grown even more reticent since their arrival at the oasis and had barely spoken to anyone for two days. Forcing himself to ignore the odour of the man, Cassius asked whether he was all right.

‘Wonderful,’ he replied, not looking up as he unrolled a blanket.

‘Do you know Galanaq well?’

‘Surely you don’t need my advice any more.’

‘Actually I do.’

‘Can’t you get what you need from your Saracen friend?’

‘You can only get what
you
need from me, so I suggest you cooperate.’

Ulixes dropped his blanket in the dust. ‘I’ve been there a couple of times. Why?’

‘What are the ways in and out?’

‘The main road and the coast road, which ends up at Leuke Kome.’

Cassius was relieved to discover Ulixes did indeed know something.

Looking past him, he saw the pictures Khalima had mentioned. Carved into the rock were images of numerous creatures drawn at unlikely angles. Amongst them were lions, hyenas and cheetahs.

‘Those animals once roamed these lands?’

‘So they say. There are images like that all over these mountains. They come from the ancient times.’ Ulixes smiled slyly. ‘It seems a new predator rules here now. One who defies Rome and takes what he wants from the Emperor.’

‘Keep your voice down.’

‘This operation is suicidal. What chance do you few have of getting away with that rock? What are you planning to do – roll it all the way back to Bostra?’

Despite the smell, Cassius stepped closer to him. ‘You just want your money, correct? Well, in a couple of days you just might get it, and then you can roll
yourself
back to Damascus or wherever it is you come from.’

‘Even assuming we get into Galanaq, there’s not much chance we’ll get out.’

‘No wonder you’re a poor gambler,’ countered Cassius. ‘You seem averse to any kind of risk.’

‘Actually I am a very good gambler – mainly because I know when the odds are against me.’

By nightfall the men were settled. Khalima had assured Cassius they could do without the tents but advised him to wrap up well. The temperature had already dropped sharply and almost the entire party was gathered around a large fire of wood drawn from both supplies. Even though the auxiliaries and the tribesmen were sitting in distinct groups, Cassius had been glad to see a good deal of chatter amongst them and some exchanging of food; Yorvah had offered Khalima’s men the last of Censorinus’s lamb, and in return the auxiliaries had dined on spiced goat.

Ulixes had already taken himself off to bed. Cassius glanced over his shoulder at the prone figure lying next to the rock wall. He had instructed Indavara and Simo to place their gear close by; he wanted Ulixes where he could see him.

Unlike the Romans, Khalima and his men left their horses loose and the animals wandered around the edge of the camp. Some of the auxiliaries had the dice out again but didn’t look particularly involved in their game; after the incident at the tower, Mercator had insisted that they not play for coin. The ever-conscientious optio was checking their supplies. The ever-sociable Yorvah, meanwhile, was sitting with Adayyid and some of the other Saracens, one of whom was demonstrating his juggling skills with four stones.

‘Good for the reflexes,’ observed Indavara. ‘Might take it up myself.’

‘Did you see the pictures on the rock?’ asked Cassius.

‘The locals probably hunted those animals. Maybe that’s why they’re not here any more.’

‘There are pictures like that in many parts of the world,’ said Cassius. ‘They come from before Rome, before everything.’

‘Did the gods make animals as well as men?’ asked Indavara.

‘Most people think so.’ Cassius looked around; no one else was paying any attention to their conversation. ‘Though Simo would tell you it was
a
god, of course.’

The attendant – who was sitting between them – continued to eat his allocation of spiced goat.

‘Did the gods make the animals for us to eat?’ asked Indavara.

‘Yes,’ said Cassius.

‘But not all animals can be eaten.’

‘True. In fact, some like to eat
us
– as you well know from our outing in Cyrenaica.’

Indavara grinned.

Cassius turned to Simo. ‘Never seen anything like it.’ He’d recounted the tale to the Gaul before but couldn’t resist telling it again. ‘They threw him into a pit to face this big old lion called Chief, which they’d given a taste for human meat. I thought he’d had it but what did he do? Pulled off his belt and used it to whip the beast across the nose. Poor thing jumped back twenty feet.’

Cassius reached over and clapped Indavara on the shoulder. ‘Ha! By Jupiter, that shut Carnifex and his cronies up.’

‘Lions are also used in the arena,’ said Simo. ‘To kill.’

Cassius kept his voice down. ‘To kill your people. Yes.’

‘I heard of that,’ said Indavara. ‘It used to happen in Pietas Julia.’

Simo said, ‘It used to happen everywhere.’

‘Barbarism,’ added Cassius. ‘Nothing more. Though I have to say, they could have been spared. All they had to do was offer a simple prayer to the Emperor.’

‘Why not just do it?’ said Indavara. ‘Better than dying.’

‘My thoughts precisely,’ said Cassius. ‘But like some of Simo’s friends in Antioch, they actually wished for death.’

‘Strange,’ said Indavara.

‘Not if you believe you are going to a better place,’ replied Simo quietly, his face at peace.

‘Death is death, Simo. The end. You may believe that your Christ returned to life but I certainly don’t.’

‘Excuse me, sir. I need to find your sleeping tunic.’ Simo got up and walked away.

‘He always does that when the questions get too difficult,’ said Cassius.

‘Why did the gods make us?’ asked Indavara.

‘I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. You have a remarkable gift for irony.’

A pleasant peace enveloped the camp as the men lay down under their blankets. The fire burned to grey, giving off a good deal of heat for those closest to it. Cassius, Indavara and Simo were too far away but the Gaul had employed every last cover and cloak to ensure his master was well insulated.

Cassius lay on his side, staring out at the night sky beyond the overhang. There was a tinge of purple splashed across the firmament, where thousands of stars shone. It was quite beautiful and he wondered, not for the first time, why so many – the new Emperor and this man Ilaha included – devoted themselves to the sun, when as much time was spent under the stars and the moon. Cassius preferred them; they seemed tranquil and benevolent.

Shortly after he drifted off to sleep, he was woken by the sound of Indavara quietly cursing. He turned over and watched the bodyguard disentangle himself from his blankets.

‘What are you doing?’

‘It’s no good. I can’t sleep under this bloody thing.’