The Black Stone (57 page)

He was whispering prayers.

‘We have to go. The shaking’s stopped. He’ll be all right.’

Simo seemed not to have heard him.

‘He’ll be all right. Come now. I am your master and I order it.’

Simo ceased his prayers and gently lowered the guard’s head to the floor. He stood up.

‘You go through first.’

Simo took a last look at the guard.

Cassius coaxed him towards the rear of the stall. ‘He’ll be all right. We have to go. He’ll be all right.’

Having donned his armour and grabbed a few other essentials, Gutha swapped the tribesman’s horse for his own and rode swiftly to the outer gate. Waiting there were Reyazz and several dozen men.

‘Gutha.’ Oblachus appeared from somewhere, waving his stick. ‘Do they have the stone?’

‘Quiet.’

‘It’s true, then,’ replied the older man softly. ‘Two of the thieving bastards are still here. I have men searching for them now. They killed Theomestor too – those Syrian mercenaries who were with Uruwat’s lot.’

Gutha leaned down towards him. ‘Uruwat, Enzarri and Mushannaf are dead. They tried to assassinate Ilaha.’

Oblachus cursed and wiped sweat from his hairless head.

‘Now listen to me,’ added Gutha. ‘You must gather all our men and work with Kalderon. Once the warriors from their tribes hear their ethnarchs are dead, we may have a problem. And the last thing we need is for them to find out the stone has gone. Keep it quiet. You may search for the traitors but do nothing to spark an incident. We must maintain calm.’

‘Understood.’ Oblachus limped away.

Reyazz hurried over, towing his mount.

‘You saw them up close,’ said Gutha. ‘How many?’

‘They had around thirty but most of them were killed at the inner gate and here. No more than ten left.’

‘Who do you think they are? These so-called mercenaries?’

‘I don’t know, sir. I think I heard some Latin but it may have been Greek.’

Gutha waved the young engineer closer. ‘All your work with the rock, moving it to the platform. You must have known of Ilaha’s deception.’

Guilt flashed across Reyazz’s face. ‘Commander, I – I just wanted to serve him and Mighty Elagabal as best I could.’

‘Is that right?’

Reyazz looked away, then pointed at the men gathered behind him. ‘We have forty warriors, sir. I can get more but—’

‘There’s no time; and I don’t want some great mob. Food and water?’

‘Yes, sir – enough for several days if we need it.’

‘We won’t.’

Cassius sat back against the rock wall. Despite the cold of the night, his tunic was sodden with sweat. Simo took a flask of water from his pack and handed it to him. Cassius drank too quickly and had to stifle a cough. Only when the discomfort had passed could he finish drinking. He loosened his belt and leaned sideways against his pack.

Once into the storeroom they had entered a kitchen. They had unbolted the door then crept out into the side street. By using the darkness and timing their movements, they had evaded the guards and made their way up to the canyon wall.

‘How is your ankle, sir?’

It was the first thing Simo had said since the outhouse.

‘I had to do something.’

The Gaul didn’t reply.

‘He would have raised the alarm. It was him or us.’

Simo remained silent.

‘Speak, damn you.’

When no reply came, Cassius turned and slapped Simo across the face. He had never hit him before.

‘Speak. I command it.’

‘What would like me to say, sir?’ Even then, he somehow managed not to sound insolent.

‘I had to do it. I had to do it or we’d both be dead.’

‘I am ready for death, sir. I am ready for the Kingdom.’

Cassius almost laughed. ‘You are a fool, Simo. And a coward. And you are no use to me here.’

‘Because I will not help you kill?’ Simo took no care with his tone this time.

‘Address me correctly, damn you, or I’ll keep striking you until you do.’

‘Sorry. Sir.’

Cassius took a while to reply. ‘Your faith has blinded you, Simo. Tell me – where is the sense in valuing the lives of others if you do not value your own?’

Simo was praying again.

‘Ah, waste your breath if you must. It saves me having to talk to you.’

Cassius looked down at the town. The lights told the story. Lanterns, lamps and torches were clustered together and moving slowly. Order had been restored. Though bitter smoke still drifted across Galanaq, all the fires were out. As for the encampment, he could see many lights there too and a lot of movement.

Now information was everything; and he needed to know more. If the assassination attempt had succeeded, he could make contact with Uruwat, Enzarri or Mushannaf. If it had failed, he might be turned over to Ilaha. He could not risk entering the camp yet.

Cassius used the wall to get to his feet, shrugging off Simo’s helping hand. ‘We shall shelter in that tomb we used yesterday. If they haven’t found us by daylight, at least we’ll be able to see what’s going on.’

He pulled on his pack and managed two steps before stumbling. Simo grabbed his belt and kept him on his feet.

‘Please allow me to help you, sir. Just let me put my pack on.’

Cassius said nothing, but he waited and put his hand over Simo’s shoulder once more. As they struggled on along the canyon wall, he continued to look down at the camp, but they were too far away to tell who were guards and who were tribesmen, let alone to which clan they might belong.

At last they reached the tomb. The interior was darker than the sky, darker even than the rock face itself. Cassius knew Simo had his fire-striker and candles with him but they couldn’t risk it outside.

‘There was a turn to the right after about twenty feet. We shall go in as far as we can. You first.’

Simo helped his master up the high step then advanced slowly into the tomb.

One hand flat against the cool, rough rock, Cassius limped after him. He had counted eight paces when Simo cried out.

Something struck Cassius in the face. As he tottered backwards, his ankle gave way and he fell onto his backside.

‘Where are you?’ demanded a voice in the darkness. ‘Where are you?’

‘Simo, what—’

Something heavy landed on Cassius’s chest. Scrabbling fingers reached for him. He lashed out and caught his assailant on the head but the fingers were now around his neck and tightening. Spit landed on his face.

‘Why are
you
alive? Why
you
?’

Cassius recognised the voice but more pressing concerns prevented him from working out who it was. He gripped the man’s wrists and tried to wrench them away but the attacker was heavy and strong; stronger than him.

He heard movement, then an impact. The assailant groaned and suddenly the weight was gone.

‘Sir.’

Simo reached down and took his hand. Cassius got to his knees then Simo helped him to his feet. They retreated side by side.

‘You,’ cried the voice, more desperate than angry now. ‘Why you and not him?’

Cassius drew his dagger. ‘I have a blade. Come near us and I’ll cut you.’

The man groaned again.

Cassius stopped. ‘Wait, Simo.’ He could hear crying.

‘Why him?’ implored the voice.

‘Gods. Khalima?’

He had been hiding deep within the tomb, and led Cassius and Simo around three more turns to a small chamber. They sat there in silence while the attendant took out his fire-starting kit. Cassius knew from experience that despite his other deficiencies, Simo could carry out the whole procedure even in this utter darkness. Before long the striker was clashing against the flint. At the second attempt, Simo lit some kindling, then a candle.

Khalima was in a bad way. A gash across his forehead was oozing blood and he had several more cuts on his hands and arms. His tunic had been torn down the middle, exposing his muscled chest and considerable paunch. His face was paler than the rest of him.

‘What the …?’

Cassius felt a presence close by, as if someone had crept up next to him. He turned and saw a body lying not two yards away. He scrabbled backwards until he was pressed against the wall beside Simo.

‘Oh my Lord,’ said the Gaul.

Khalima was gazing at the candle. ‘My boy. He came to my aid but he’d been cut close to the heart. He died just after we got here.’

Adayyid was lying on his back at the far end of the chamber, his head turned away from them.

Cassius could find no adequate words.

‘The others?’ he said eventually.

Khalima seemed entranced by the flower of light. Blood trickled between his eyes and onto his nose. ‘My stupidity, my greed, has cost them all their lives.’

‘What about Uruwat? Enzarri?’

‘I have seen no sign of them. The German and his men remain in control. I believe the ethnarchs must have failed. I believe Ilaha is still alive.’

Cassius squeezed his eyes shut and bowed his head. In what was looking like an increasingly hopeless situation for him, his allies and the entire bloody province for that matter, he had been allowed one small blessing: time to think. He resolved to do exactly that.

‘How did you get up here?’ Simo asked Khalima after a while.

‘Reinforcements came from the cavern, led by the German. Adayyid and I got past him and through the gate. There were guards everywhere but they were occupied by the fire. We followed the inner wall up to the side of the canyon then came here. After Adayyid took his last breath I wept awhile. And then I heard you.’

Khalima looked at his son’s body. ‘Can you cover him with something?’

‘Of course.’

Simo took a blanket from his pack and gently laid it over Adayyid’s head and lean frame.

‘That is a deep cut,’ he told Khalima. ‘May I treat you?’

‘It matters not.’

‘Please.’

‘There is no point.’

‘Let him help you, Khalima,’ said Cassius.

‘They will come for us, Roman. You know they will.’

‘They’re not here yet.’

Khalima gave in.

Simo wetted a cloth and cleaned the wound. ‘There is dirt and hair in there. I shall have to pick it out.’

Cassius wasn’t watching. He had his eyes shut again, and by the time he opened them, Simo had treated and dressed the wound.

‘Sir, I should check your ankle.’

‘Not now.’

‘Look at the state of us,’ said Khalima. ‘We won’t even be able to put up a fight.’

‘Fighting can’t save us now anyway,’ replied Cassius.

‘Nothing can.’

‘Having given the matter some consideration, I’m not entirely sure that’s true.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I think you’re correct to surmise that the assassination attempt failed. Which almost certainly means that Uruwat, Mushannaf and Enzarri are dead. Their warriors will want to know what happened and there’s no real reason for Ilaha to keep it secret. Even if the men of their three tribes want revenge, there aren’t enough of them to take on Ilaha’s men and the warriors of the loyal ethnarchs – who will probably be even more loyal now.’

Khalima shook his head. ‘This was madness. We have made his position even stronger.’

‘But he has lost his precious stone. That he
will
try and keep quiet as long as possible. Some of the guards will know already, of course, but he can keep that contained. But the other tribes? All that talk of the sun god favouring him, of their fates being tied together …’