‘Where is this farm?’
‘About a mile south of the town. It’s signposted from the road.’
After a failed attempt to mount the stretcher across two of the steadier mules, they decided to carry Druz the remaining two miles to Dhiban. Cassius placed the bearers in the middle of the party and kept one eye to the west all the way, fearing the brigands might return with reinforcements.
But in fact they saw no one, and with the men all taking their turn with the stretcher — Indavara included — they made reasonable time. Druz had succumbed to the wine and remained unconscious as they pressed on through the town, accompanied by Usrana and the boys until they reached the central square.
Dhiban was indeed a quiet place with no sign of any soldiers or officials, but Usrana assured Cassius that the brigands never ventured too close. He insisted on handing over all his remaining wine for Druz and promised that he and his family would offer prayers for him for the next hundred days. Farewells were exchanged and they went on their way.
Despite what Usrana had told him, Cassius asked several passers-by about a surgeon, but the only medical help available was from the usual opportunistic amateurs offering questionable advice and unreliable treatments. Cassius knew that only a well-trained, experienced physician would be able to do more for Druz than Simo. He didn’t intend travelling any farther with the stricken auxiliary so all hopes now lay with this retired centurion.
Fortunately, the property was as easy to locate as Usrana had suggested. On either side of the track leading off the road were fields enclosed by fences and hedges, most containing goats or sheep. In the middle of one field were three boys who had stopped to peruse the new arrivals. They suddenly ran off towards the buildings.
Cassius led the auxiliaries to the scanty shade offered by a row of date palms, then told Mercator to wait there and rode on with Indavara and Simo. They passed numerous outhouses and pens before reaching what looked like the residence. The two-storey villa was large compared to most within the town, and was fronted by a wooden verandah. A maid cleaning the window shutters also ceased her work to watch the interlopers.
Hearing hooves on stone, Cassius turned to his right and saw four riders trotting up between two barns. Looking on from behind them were the boys. The leading rider was the oldest of the four and was wearing a wide-brimmed hat.To Cassius’s relief, the expression under it was more curious than suspicious.
‘Good day. I don’t recall making any appointments for this afternoon.’
‘Good day. Are you Censorinus, the ex-centurion?’
‘Around here it is usual for the visitor to give his name first.’
‘Of course. I am Cassius Oranius Crispian.’ Cassius gestured back along the track. ‘I have an injured man in my party and thought you might be able to help.’
‘I am Censorinus. But what makes you think I’d be so willing to help a stranger?’
‘Simo.’
The Gaul — who had already retrieved the spearhead — held it up.
Censorinus nodded at the villa. ‘You’d better come in.’
Cassius stood alone on the verandah and watched the men gather. Not his men — they were topping up their water supplies from a cistern — but the group Censorinus had swiftly assembled from his family and staff. In charge was one of his sons, a well-built fellow armed with spear and sword. There were two other sons, three nephews plus a dozen labourers. They had been tasked by Censorinus with recruiting more sword-hands from Dhiban, then heading north in search of the brigands that had attacked Usrana.
The son gave a shout and led them away towards the road at a gallop, leaving a cloud of dust in their wake. The boys and women who had been looking on dispersed rapidly when they saw Censorinus exit the front door.
He too watched the group depart. ‘I hope they find plenty of help. These thieves are growing in numbers and confidence — they even tried to take us on a couple of times recently.’
‘The people are lucky to have you watching over them.’
‘This is the first year I’ve had to do so alone.’
‘No help from the army?’
Censorinus gave an ironic grin. ‘You’re the first officer I’ve spoken to in months. No, brigandage is generally kept under control by the local Saracen chief — we’re on the western edge of what’s long been considered his territory. No thief would dare rob one of the locals if they thought he would hear of it. But no one’s seen him or his men in weeks.’
‘Any idea where they are?’
Censorinus ran his hand across the few white hairs left on his head. ‘Some say he’s gone north to fight the Palmyrans, others that he’s fighting with them. He never stays in one place for long anyway — he’s heavily involved in the incense trade — but he’d always leave a few men behind to keep the peace. Seems like they’ve all gone with him this time.’
‘This chief, he’s part of the Tanukh?’
‘I believe so.’
‘I see,’ said Cassius. It all tallied with what Calvinus had revealed about the apparent absence of many of the chiefs and their men. Where were they all?
Censorinus tapped his hat against his leg. ‘I hope and pray the Saracens return soon. We haven’t enough men in Dhiban to keep the brigands at bay for long and I need my employees working, not riding around the desert.’
‘Apologies for the imposition. I didn’t feel I had a great deal of choice.’
‘No apology necessary. You did the right thing. That lad is in a lot of pain. I hope Eugammon can do something for him. He should be here by nightfall.’
‘He is a good surgeon?’
‘Yes. Greek. Old and hates to travel, but he knows I pay well.’
‘Talking of money,’ said Cassius, ‘I will of course give you whatever you think is fair.’
‘Keep it,’ said the ex-centurion. ‘I have more money than I know what to do with anyway.’ He lowered his voice. ‘Don’t tell my wife I said that.’
‘Trade is good?’ enquired Cassius. Like all men of the upper class, his father had tried to engender an appreciation of agriculture in his son, but Cassius had never been able to get all that excited about crops or weather or animal husbandry. ‘The land around here doesn’t look particularly promising.’
‘It’s not. But with a bit of creative irrigation we’ve enough water and fodder for our four-legged friends.’
Censorinus waved a gnarled hand at the patchwork of fields between the house and the road. Most of the sheep and goats were sheltering from the sun by buildings or beneath trees.
‘Twelve hundred head at the last count. We send hides and wool as far as Aila and Damascus. The meat and milk bring in a fair bit too. I started up with three goats, would you believe?’
‘Impressive.’
‘Few envious locals to contend with, of course.’
‘Well, they have to pay all the taxes,’ said Cassius with a grin.
‘Indeed, but I try to balance the scales by helping out where I can.’
Cassius backtracked swiftly, anxious not to offend his host. ‘I too have cause to be thankful for your generosity. It is much appreciated.’
‘Least I can do for a fellow officer.’
‘You don’t mind helping a grain man?’
‘My brother worked for the Service for a while; bit of secret stuff in Persia. We don’t speak — he’s an arsehole — but some of the others weren’t too bad.’ Censorinus nodded at Cassius’s tunic. ‘Talking of covert work, what’s all this with the pretty colours and the gold?’
‘It’s complicated.’
‘And confidential, I expect.’
‘Well, yes. On that subject, I’m sure I don’t have to-’
‘Don’t worry. Only my sons saw the spearhead. The others think you’re a merchant.’ Censorinus winked. ‘And as you’ve probably already gathered, I don’t tell my wife anything she doesn’t need to know.’
He hurried down the steps. ‘Come, let’s see how those men of yours are getting on.’