The Eagle In The Sand (3 page)

‘That’s what Narcissus told us,’ said Cato. ‘And if Parthia should get its hands on Palmyra, then they’ll be able to march their army right up to the boundaries of the province of Syria. At the moment there are three legions at Antioch. Arrangements are being made to send a fourth, but therein lies the other problem.’

They had reached the limit of Florianus’ knowledge of the situation and now he stared at Cato intently. ‘What’s that?’

Cato instinctively lowered his voice. ‘Cassius Longinus, the Governor of Syria.’

‘What about him?’

‘Narcissus doesn’t trust him.’

Macro laughed.’Narcissus doesn’t trust anybody. Mind you, nobody in their right mind would trust him.’

‘Anyway,’ Cato continued, ‘it seems that Cassius Longinus has some contacts with those elements back in Rome who oppose the Emperor.’

Florianus glanced up. ‘You mean those bastards who call themselves the Liberators?’

‘Of course.’ Cato smiled grimly.’One of their men fell into the hands of Narcissus earlier this year. He gave up a few names before he died, including that of Longinus.’

Florianus frowned.’I’ve heard nothing from my sources in Antioch about Longinus. Nothing to arouse suspicion. And I’ve met him a few times. Frankly he doesn’t seem the type.Too cautious to strike out on his own.’

Macro smiled. ‘Having three legions at your back has a wonderful way of stiffening a man’s spine. Four legions even more so. To have that much power in your grasp must be quite inspiring to a man’s ambition.’

‘But not enough to turn him against the rest of the Empire,’ Florianus countered.

Cato nodded. ‘True, as things stand. But suppose the Emperor was compelled to reinforce the region with yet more legions? Not just to counter the Parthian threat, but to put down a rebellion here in Judaea.’

‘But there isn’t a rebellion here.’

‘Not yet. But there’s plenty of ill feeling brewing up, as you yourself have reported. It wouldn’t take much to incite an open revolt. Look what happened when Caligula gave orders for a statue of him to be erected in Jerusalem. If he hadn’t been murdered before work could begin then every man in the land would have risen up against Rome. How many legions would it have taken to put that down? Another three? Perhaps four? In addition to the Syrian legions, that’s at least seven in all. With that kind of force at his disposal a man could easily make himself a contender for the purple. Mark my words.’

There was a long silence as Florianus considered Cato’s proposition, and then he suddenly looked back at the young centurion. ‘Are you suggesting that Longinus might actually provoke such a revolt? To get his hands on more legions?’

Cato shrugged. ‘Maybe. Maybe not. I don’t know yet. Let’s just say it’s a sufficiently worrying prospect for Narcissus to send us here to investigate it.’

‘But it’s preposterous. A revolt would lead to the deaths of thousands – tens of thousands of people. And if Longinus was intending to use the legions to force his way into the palace in Rome he would leave the eastern provinces defenceless.’

‘The Parthians would be in here like a shot,’ Macro quipped and then raised his hands apologetically as the other two turned to him with irritated expressions.

Cato cleared his throat. ‘That’s true. But then Longinus would be playing for the highest stakes of all. He would be prepared to sacrifice the eastern provinces if it meant becoming Emperor.’

‘If that is his plan,’ Florianus responded. ‘Frankly, that’s a very big if.’

‘Yes,’ Cato conceded. ‘But still a possibility that has to be taken seriously. Narcissus certainly takes it seriously.’

‘Forgive me, young man, but I’ve worked for Narcissus for many years. He is inclined to jump at shadows.’

Cato shrugged. ‘Longinus is still a risk.’

‘But how exactly do you think he is going to cause this revolt? That has to be the key to the situation. Unless there’s a revolt he’ll not have his legions, and without them he can do nothing.’

‘So, then, he needs a revolt. And isn’t he lucky to have someone here in Judaea who has sworn to provide one.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘There’s a man named Bannus the Canaanean. I assume you’ve heard of him.’

‘Of course. He’s a minor brigand. Lives in the range of hills to the east of the River Jordan. He’s been preying on the villages and travellers in the valley, besides raiding a few of the wealthy estates and some of the caravans making for the Decapolis. But he’s not a serious threat.’

‘No?’

‘He has a few hundred followers. Poorly armed hillsmen and those on the run from the authorities here in Jerusalem.’

‘Nevertheless, according to your most recent reports, his strength has grown, he’s becoming more ambitious in his attacks, and he’s even claiming to be some kind of divinely chosen leader.’ Cato frowned. ‘What was the word?’

‘Mashiah,’ said Florianus. ‘That’s what the locals call them. Every few years some crazy fool sets himself up as the anointed one, the man to lead the people of Judaea to freedom from Rome, and eventual conquest of the world.’

Macro shook his head. ‘An ambitious-sounding lad, this Bannus.’

‘Not just him. Almost every one of them,’ Florianus responded. ‘They last a few months, gather a desperate mob behind them and eventually we have to send the cavalry out from Caesarea to knock a few heads together and crucify the ringleaders. Their followers melt away readily enough and then we just have a handful of anti-Roman fanatics and their terror tactics to worry about.’

‘So we saw,’ Macro said. ‘I can tell you, there was nothing low-level about that.’

‘You get used to it.’ Florianus waved his hand dismissively. ‘It happens all the time.They pick on their own more often than not, those people they accuse of collaborating with Rome. Usually a quick kill in the streets, but when their targets are hard to get at the sicarians are not above using suicide attacks.’

‘Shit,’ Macro muttered. ‘Suicide attacks. What kind of madness is that?’

Florianus shrugged. ‘You make a people desperate enough, and there’s no telling what horrors they are capable of. Give it a few months here, and you’ll see what I mean.’

‘I want to leave this province already.’

‘All in good time.’ Cato gave a thin smile. ‘This Bannus.You said he operates on the far side of the Jordan.’

‘That’s right.’

‘Near the fort at Bushir?’

‘Yes, so?’

‘That’s the fort where the Second Illyrian Cohort is stationed, under Prefect Scrofa.’

‘Yes. What of it?’

‘Our cover story is that we have been sent to relieve Scrofa. Macro is to take command of the cohort and I’ll act as his second in command.’

Florianus frowned. ‘Why? What possible use will that serve?’

‘I believe Prefect Scrofa was appointed directly on the orders of Longinus?’

‘That’s true. He was sent down from Antioch. But it’s not unusual. Sometimes a new commander is needed and there’s no time to refer the matter to Rome.’

‘What happened to the previous commander?’

‘He was killed. In an ambush, while he was leading a patrol in the hills. That’s what his adjutant said in the report.’

‘Quite.’ Cato smiled.’But the fact that his adjutant was named by the same man who told Narcissus about Longinus is more than a little intriguing, to my mind at least.’

Florianus was still for a moment. ‘You’re not serious?’

‘I’ve never been more serious.’

‘But what is the connection with Longinus?’

Macro smiled. ‘That’s what we’re here to find out.’

Centurion Florianus called his orderly and sent for some wine. ‘I think I could use something a little stronger. You two are beginning to frighten me. There’s more to this than you’ve let on.’

Macro and Cato exchanged a brief look and Macro nodded his assent. ‘Go on then. You know the background to this better than I do.’

Cato was still for a moment, focusing his thoughts before he told Florianus about the meeting with Narcissus in the imperial palace nearly three months earlier, at the end of March. Before then Macro and Cato had spent several months training recruits for the urban cohorts – the units assigned to police Rome’s streets.The recruits were the type of men who would never be selected for the legions, and the two centurions had done their best to kick them into shape. It had been a thankless task, but even though Cato had been desperate to return to active service, the summons of the Imperial Secretary had filled him with foreboding.

The last mission that the imperial agent had sent them on had been a near suicidal operation to retrieve some scrolls, vital to the security of the Empire, from the clutches of a gang of pirates who had been preying on shipping along the coast of Illyricum.The Sybilline scrolls completed a set of sacred prophecies that were supposed to describe in some detail the future of Rome, and its ultimate fate. Naturally, the Emperor’s right hand man had to win possession of such a treasure to safeguard his master and the Empire he served. Cato and Macro had been assigned training duties as a ‘reward’ for successfully finding the scrolls and delivering them safely into the hands of the Imperial Secretary. Macro was on leave when the messenger from Narcissus arrived at the barracks and so Cato approached the palace alone just as dusk thickened about the grimy walls and sooty tiles of the city.

An early spring storm was raging across the city as Cato entered the palace complex. He was escorted to the suite of the Imperial Secretary and then ushered into Narcissus’ office by one of his neatly groomed clerks. Cato handed his drenched cape to the clerk before he crossed the room and sat on the chair that Narcissus waved him towards. Behind the Imperial Secretary was a glazed window through the panes of which the view of the city was distorted. Black clouds billowed across the sky, illuminated every so often by a dazzling flash of lightning that, for an instant, froze the city in brilliant whiteness, before the vision was snatched away and Rome was plunged once more into the shadows.

‘Rested, I hope?’ Narcissus attempted to look concerned. ‘It’s been several months since that campaign against the pirates.’

‘I’ve been keeping fit,’ Cato replied carefully. ‘I’m ready to return to active service. So is Macro.’

‘Good. That’s good.’ Narcissus nodded. ‘And where is my friend Centurion Macro?’

Cato stifled a choke. The idea that Macro and this effete bureaucrat might be considered friends was sublimely ridiculous. He cleared his throat. ‘On leave. He went to Ravenna to see his mother. She hasn’t got over her loss.’

Narcissus frowned. ‘Her loss?’

‘Her man was killed during the final attack on the pirates.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ Narcissus replied flatly. ‘You must pass on my condolences, when you rejoin him. Before you take on your new task.’

Cato froze for a moment, feeling a sick sense of inevitability rise up as he realised the Imperial Secretary had further plans for him.

‘I don’t understand,’ he said. ‘I thought Macro and I were waiting to be reassigned to a legion.’

‘Ah, well, the situation has changed. Rather, a new situation has emerged.’

‘Really?’ Cato smiled mirthlessly. ‘And what would that be?’

‘Those scrolls you recovered, I’ve been studying them closely for some time now, and I appear to have stumbled on to something quite interesting.’ He paused. ‘No. Not interesting. Frightening . . . As you might imagine, I concentrated on the prophecies relating to the immediate future, and I came across something that rather jarred my mind. You see, the seeds of the eventual downfall of Rome are being sown even now.’

‘Let me guess – a plague of tax collectors?’

‘Don’t be glib, Cato. Leave that to Macro – he’s better at it.’

‘But he’s not here.’

‘What a pity. Now if I might continue?’

Cato shrugged. ‘Go on then.’

Narcissus leaned forwards, clasped his palms together and propped up his chin as he began.’There was a passage in the scrolls which predicted that in the eighth century after the founding of Rome a great power would stir in the east. A new kingdom would be born that would destroy Rome utterly, and build a new capital on her ruins.’

Cato sniffed with derision.’Every mad prophet on the streets of Rome is spouting that kind of prediction.’

‘Wait. It’s more specific than that. It said the new empire would rise out of Judaea.’

‘That’s nothing I haven’t heard scores of times before. Hardly a year goes by without the Judaeans discovering another great man to lead them to freedom from Rome. And if I’ve heard about these men, then you surely have.’

‘Granted. But there is a new sect amongst the Judaeans that has come to my attention. I’m having my agents investigate them even now. Seems they are followers of a man who claimed to be some kind of divinity. Or at least that’s what my agents say his followers are claiming now. I’m told that in reality he was the son of some rural craftsman. Jehoshua was the man’s name.’

‘Was? What happened to him?’

‘He was accused of inciting civil disorder by the high priests in Jerusalem. They insisted that he be put to death, but lacked the guts to do it themselves, so the procurator at the time had this Jehoshua executed. Trouble was that, like so many of these prophets, he was quite charismatic. So much so that his coterie have managed to attract a large following in the years since his death. Unlike most other Judaean sects, this one promises them some kind of glorious afterlife when they die and go into the shades.’ Narcissus smiled. ‘You can see the appeal.’

‘Perhaps,’ Cato muttered. ‘But it sounds like the usual religious quackery to me.’

‘I agree with you, young man. But that’s not stopping these people from finding new adherents.’

‘Why not just stamp them out? Proscribe their leaders?’

‘All in good time. If the need arises.’

Cato laughed. ‘Are you saying these people are threatening to overthrow Rome?’

‘No. At least not yet. But we’re keeping an eye on them. If I judge them to be the threat identified by the scrolls then they will be . . . removed.’

Cato reflected that it was typical of the man to talk in such euphemisms. For an instant he felt contempt, then with a sudden flash of insight he wondered if the Imperial Secretary could only carry out his work because of a euphemistic frame of mind. After all, the decisions that Narcissus made frequently resulted in deaths. Necessary deaths perhaps, but deaths all the same. Opponents of the Emperor consigned to oblivion at the stroke of a pen. How that must weigh on a man’s conscience. Far better for Narcissus to see them as a problem removed, rather than a string of corpses littering his wake. Of course, Cato thought, that presupposed the man had a conscience to be perturbed by the decisions of life and death that he made every day. What if he didn’t? What if the euphemisms were merely a matter of rhetorical style? Cato shuddered. In that case Narcissus was completely without ethics. The ideal of Rome was no more than a hollow edifice whose real centre was the simple, unadorned greed and lust for power of the elite few. Cato tried to shake off such thoughts as he forced his mind to focus on the matter at hand.