‘See them?’
‘I thought so,’ replied Indavara as he brushed sand from his eyes. ‘Lost them, though.’
‘Just stay here or we’ll lose you too.’
One of the mounts was unsettled and the movement on the line was upsetting the others. As Indavara and Simo went to calm their horses down, Cassius noted an absentee.
‘Where’s the mule?’
Simo looked around. ‘I’m not sure. I thought-’
‘Indavara. Where’s the mule?’
He didn’t reply.
Knowing the hearing in his disfigured ear sometimes failed him, Cassius shouted.
‘Indavara. The mule?’
The bodyguard looked at the empty space between his and Cassius’s horse. ‘He was there. I thought he’d feel safe between the horses.’
‘Tied on?’
‘No, but he wouldn’t go off on his own.’
‘Gods’ blood — the money.’
Cassius jogged all the way along the line. Having come across several other mules but not the one he was looking for, he sprinted back to the others and found Indavara still holding up his hands in dismay.
‘He was right there.’
‘He? By Jupiter — your precious Patch. Well, he is a lot less valuable than what he’s carrying on his back.’ Cassius kicked the ground.
It wasn’t just the money. If the worst came to the worst, a sight of the spearhead would give second thought to anyone with hostile intent, even in these lands beyond Roman rule.
‘The men,’ he asked Indavara. ‘You’re sure you saw them?’
‘Fairly sure, yes. You don’t think-’
‘I don’t know what to think. Let’s just hope that bloody mule hasn’t gone far.’
The missing pair were named Actis and Corydon. Cassius knew both faces but had barely spoken a word to either of them. Andal was first to take his turn with the rope. He walked along the base of the formation to the south then out in an arc before eventually reappearing from the north. He had seen nothing. While another man took his turn, Cassius spoke to Mercator. He didn’t want to tell him about the money or impugn his men, but there was still no sign of the mule and time was passing.
‘Actis and Corydon. Neither of them given to panic, I trust?’
‘Not at all. I think they just got separated at the back. Four mules gone too. Got yours?’
‘No.’
There was nothing to do but wait for the storm to pass. Every object and being was now bathed in an ethereal golden glow. The horses pressed themselves close to the rock face and the men sat in twos or threes, clasping their hoods over their faces.
Indavara and Simo, however, stayed on their feet, still looking for any sign of the mule. Cassius decided he would leave them to it; they had lost the beast, after all.
Sitting between two boulders, he took a drink from his flask then poured the remainder over his face. His eyes still stung so he kept them shut. Despite the storm raging around him, he suddenly felt very tired. He uttered three lines of a prayer to the weather gods but never finished it.
Simo shook him awake.
‘What? What is it?’
‘We think the worst of the storm has passed, sir.’
Cassius pulled down his hood and looked around. He could see some way along the formation and much of the ground ahead. The sky to the west was dark.
‘The mule?’
Indavara — who had appeared from behind one of the horses — shook his head.
‘The men?’
‘No, sir,’ said Simo.
As he went in search of Mercator, Cassius found most of the auxiliaries up on their feet. Some were eating and drinking; others were brushing down their horses or washing out their eyes. Mercator and Yorvah were with Andal, who had just returned with one of the mules. There was no barrel on its back nor white mark upon its fur.
Over the next half-hour, the haboob moved farther away. The storm clouds seemed to dissipate as they met the higher ground and soon the mountains were visible once more.
Mercator ordered the men to prepare themselves then spoke to Cassius. ‘Hopefully they found shelter somewhere else on the formation.’
Cassius didn’t think that was the only explanation but there was no sense airing such a suspicion yet. ‘I’ll take one half of the men around to the north, you take the others around to the south.’
‘Good idea.’
Cassius then noticed Ulixes talking to two of the auxiliaries. The gambler had his knucklebones ready.
‘Forget that,’ Cassius told him. ‘We’re moving out.’
Within another half an hour, they were riding along in sunshine with clear skies in every direction. Rounding the formation, they saw a variety of wildlife warily leaving the safety of the natural shelter: lizards scampering out from behind boulders, birds flitting from high crevices, even a family of gazelle that bolted from a cave then loped away to the north. No man or mule appeared, however, and Cassius’s fears only grew. Upon reaching the far side they were surprised by a distant sight. Two miles to the east was a cluster of high, healthy-looking date palms.
Cassius halted his horse. ‘An oasis.’
‘A what?’ asked Indavara.
‘An underground spring — provides water, allows trees to grow where there’s no other vegetation for miles.’
They heard shouts and saw Mercator coming the other way. Before the two groups met, Cassius had counted up and realised the missing men were with them. Actis and Corydon came forward with their optio.
‘They sheltered in a cave,’ explained Mercator. ‘Actis has lost his horse so we’ve given him one of the spares. No sign of the other mules, though.’
While some of the auxiliaries aimed light-hearted insults at the unfortunate pair, Ulixes pointed at the oasis. ‘They’re probably there. Drawn to the water.’
Andal had dismounted. ‘There are some tracks leading that way. Fresh. Too small for a horse.’
Indavara and Simo went to investigate.
Mercator looked west towards the road. ‘We’ve already lost three hours.’
‘Let’s replenish our water while we have the chance,’ said Cassius.
‘You really want to lose more time out here?’
Cassius nodded at Indavara and Simo. ‘If we don’t at least try and find their precious Patch I’ll never hear the end of it.’
As they neared the oasis, Cassius realised there was a narrow path leading through the ridge of sand that surrounded the depression. He then saw light sparking off water.
‘Could be people here,’ said Mercator.
‘Could be.’
Considering what they’d heard about hostile tribesmen, Cassius wouldn’t have minded dropping back but, in the interests of maintaining appearances, he stayed alongside the optio as they approached the path.
It soon became obvious that the oasis was occupied, or at least had been until very recently. The pool was on the far side, a glittering oval mirror ringed by reeds and palms. The trees could not have looked healthier; vibrant green branches proudly sticking out at every angle. Close to the pool were about a dozen tents, some of which appeared to have been damaged in the storm.
They halted. Mercator offered a speculative look. Cassius shrugged and nudged his horse on to the path.
It was hard to work out where the shout came from but the result was clear enough.
Men rose smoothly and silently up from behind the ridge. More appeared among the tents, and yet more who had been hiding in the trees. There were at least sixty of them, all in pale, flowing robes and clutching either bows or swords. The Arabians were already converging on the path.
Cassius raised a hand and tried to sound calm. ‘Everyone dismount. Don’t go anywhere near your weapons.’
As the men complied, the warriors closed in. Each archer picked a target and Cassius found himself looking at the iron head of an arrow only ten feet away. The bow was held by a lean, gnarled Saracen with a dead-eyed stare and a remarkably steady hand.