Centurion

Inside the citadel there was little room for such rituals and the bodies were burned on a common pyre in the royal garden, before the remains were scooped into urns and placed somewhere where they could be stored until the siege was over and they could be interred properly.

Macro and Cato made a tour of the defences to ensure that adequate supplies of arrows, sling shot and other missiles were ready and to hand in case of further attacks. Towards the end of their reconnaissance, as they stood on top of the signal tower and stared out across the city's roofs, Cato scratched his jaw and muttered, 'What do you think they will do next?'

'It depends.They could sit on their arses and try to starve us out, or wait until the Parthians arrive, complete with siege experts and maybe some equipment. Or they could build a better ram and try again.'

'What would you do in their place?'

'Me?' Macro considered the matter for a moment. 'I'd assume that a Roman column, however small, that had been sent to aid Vabathus was a sign of Roman commitment. I'd expect a much larger force to follow.That would mean that I had a limited time in which to reduce the citadel.' He turned to Cato.'I'd attack again as soon as I had the chance.'

Cato nodded. 'So would I.' He glanced quickly over his shoulder, but the only other men on the tower were on the far side, absorbed in a game of dice. 'And I'd take further comfort from the fact that there's a fair amount of dissent amongst the defenders.'

'How can Artaxes know that?'

'Because he's family. He knows how deeply divided his brothers are, and how little faith his father has in either of them. Artaxes will also know that Balthus is no great admirer of Rome and is likely to resent our presence here. There's one other thing. If any of the nobles or refugees begin to lose confidence that the king will hold out against Artaxes, they might well come to believe they have more to gain by throwing their lot in with the prince, and betray us. The prospect of some kind of reward might be an added inducement to treachery.' Cato smiled bleakly. 'Not the best situation we have ever been in.'

'And not the worst, either.'

'Perhaps not.'

Macro gave his friend an appraising look.

'What?' Cato frowned. 'What is it?'

'I'm just glad you and your devious mind are on my side. It's as I told that woman: you're a thinking man, a thinking soldier.'

'Which woman?'

'The one in the hospital. She saw to my wounds. The ambassador's daughter, Julia Sempronia.'

Cato felt a tremor of nerves in his gut. 'You were discussing me?'

'Sort of. She was asking questions.'

'About me?'

'Yes. What of it? I didn't tell her anything you wouldn't have told her yourself.'

Cato wasn't sure about that at all. He thought he knew Macro well enough to fear that some indiscretion, large or small, would eventually be teased out of him by Julia. 'What did she want to know?'

'What I thought of you. Whether you were married, or had a woman of some kind.'

'And what did you say to her?'

'That there was no one at the moment, and that you were available.'

Cato swallowed nervously. 'You told her that?'

'Of course!' Macro slapped him on the shoulder. 'She's a lovely-looking girl. Bit too classy for my liking, though. More your type.'

Cato shut his eyes and rubbed his forehead. 'Please, please tell me that you didn't suggest that she might like to… attach her affections to me.'

'Oh, very well put!' Macro swore softly. 'Very romantic. Anyway, what kind of idiot do you take me for? I just hinted that you were free of any commitments and you'd be a fine catch. Cato, this isn't a children's party.There is every chance that we may not hold out against Artaxes for much longer. If that's the case, what has she got to lose? For that matter what have you got to lose? I think she's taken a shine to you. If you are interested in her then make your move, while there's time.'

'And if we all survive this? What then?' Cato could imagine the awkwardness of a relationship forged in the shadow of annihilation, only for the participants to emerge unscathed back into the same old world of hazardless routine. That was assuming that Julia did not rebuff him in the first place.

Macro yawned. 'You could always make an honest woman of her.'

They stared at each other for a moment, before Macro burst out laughing. 'Just joking!'

'Funny bastard,' Cato muttered sourly. Nevertheless, the merest suggestion of marriage to Julia briefly filled his mind and made his heart feel light. Then he cursed himself for such foolish speculation. What could a highborn Roman woman ever see in the son of a freedman? It was unthinkable, and yet…

Cato pushed himself away from the parapet and composed his expression. 'Sir, I think we're done here. I still have to do an inventory of my cohort's weapons.'

'An inventory of kit?' Macro tried not to smile at his friend's obvious attempt to avoid further discussion of the matter. Instead he mimicked Cato's officious tone.'Very well then, Prefect Cato. Carry on.'

They exchanged a formal salute and then, as Cato turned and strode stiffly away, Macro shook his head and muttered, 'She's got right under that boy's skin…'

Shortly after noon a messenger from King Vabathus arrived at the makeshift quarters Macro was sharing with Cato.The latter had finally completed his inspection and reluctantly joined Macro in the cool interior of the citadel to sit out the heat and glare of the midday sun.

'His Majesty requests your company at a small feast he is giving this evening in your honour,' the royal servant explained. 'At sunset. Formal dress code.'

'Formal dress?' Macro's expression darkened. He gestured at his worn and dirty tunic and dusty boots. 'This is all we have. When we set off from Antioch we were marching to war, not a bloody dinner party.'

The servant bowed his head and responded, 'His Majesty's chamberlain suggests that you procure some spare clothes from the Roman ambassador. His excellency Lucius Sempronius has already said he would be happy to provide you with tunics, togas and sandals.'

'Oh, very well,' Macro grumbled. 'We'll be there. You may go.'

The servant made a deep bow and backed out of the room, quietly closing the door behind him. Macro lay back down on his mattress, folded his arms behind his head and stared up at the rafters. 'Here we are, surrounded by bloodthirsty enemies and we're off to a fancy dinner. Still, at least it'll make a nice change from horsemeat.'

'I suppose so,' Cato replied. 'But I hardly think it's going to do much for the morale of the people in the citadel to know that the king and his circle are feasting while they're on limited rations.'

As the sun dipped towards the horizon and bathed the city in an orange glow Macro and Cato entered the royal quarters. At the rear of the citadel, tucked between the main building and the wall, was a small roof garden with a colonnade that stretched along each of the open sides. Occasional pergolas provided shade and small trees and shrubs grew in large tubs and raised flower beds. A slave was watering the plants as Macro and Cato entered and Cato could not help wondering about the king's sense of priorities. On the far side, overlooking the city wall and the lush oasis beyond, a number of couches had been arranged around low tables. An awning had been rigged above the couches and in the light breeze blowing in off the desert it gently shimmered and billowed. Most of the guests were already present. Cato recognised some of the nobles, alongside Thermon, Balthus, Amethus, Sempronius and his daughter.

Cato felt a quickening of his pulse at the sight of her, but when she looked his way his gaze shifted to examine the other guests. He saw Balthus approach Julia and with a gracious bow begin to engage her in conversation.

Sempronius smiled as he caught sight of the two officers and came over to greet them.

'Centurion Macro, I see that my tunic is a bit tight around the shoulders.'