Khalima scratched his chin. ‘They don’t look much like warriors but as least they’re dark enough. Not for Arabians but there are plenty of Syrians around these parts. Which leaves us with one remaining problem.’
‘Yes?’ said Cassius.
‘You.’
Dusk was close by the time they found the mule. Andal had located the other missing animal an hour earlier; it had been sighted wandering towards the formation where they’d sheltered. Bored by inactivity, Indavara had offered to help Mercator look for the last one. They found it south of the oasis at a smaller, angular outcrop of rock that resembled a fin.
The mule was drinking water that had collected in a hollow. The pair dismounted and closed in from either side but the beast showed no inclination to resist. In fact, it seemed happy to be in company once more and nuzzled Mercator’s horse. The optio roped it to his mount and they set off back towards the oasis on foot.
‘Might be dangerous down here, but there are some amazing sights.’
‘There are,’ replied Indavara.
Even his dislike of the dry, hot lands couldn’t blind him to the stark beauty of the place. The sunset had divided everything into layers. The closest flank of the Hejaz mountains was black, the distant peaks shrouded by grey. Above was a hazy band of orange, then the sun itself, a perfect yellow disc.
‘What do you think of this Khalima, then?’ said Mercator. ‘These desert folk can be tricky.’
‘Corbulo usually knows what he’s doing.’
‘And Ulixes?’
‘The sooner we get rid of him the better.’
‘Right,’ said Mercator. ‘Slimy bastard, that one.’
‘I wanted to ask — what’s it like in the army?’
‘Can’t really remember anything else. Been in since I was seventeen. Almost half my life.’
‘Have you been in many battles?’
‘Not many. One against the Persians, two against the Palmyrans.’
‘Corbulo fought the Palmyrans. At a fort.’
‘He told me. Doesn’t really seem the soldier type.’
Indavara would have put it in stronger terms than that but knew he shouldn’t criticise Corbulo too much in front of the optio. ‘He says we all have our strengths and weaknesses.’
‘Considering his job, I imagine he’s glad to have you by his side.’
Indavara didn’t reply.
‘And you?’ continued Mercator. ‘I assume you’ve been in more fights than battles.’
Indavara nodded.
‘How many?’
‘Enough.’
‘Don’t like talking much, do you?’
‘Doesn’t it annoy you? Being told what to do every hour of the day?’
‘I’m an optio. Once you reach that rank you spend more time giving orders than taking them.’
‘But you often have to do things you don’t want to.’
‘That’s life.’
‘Like what?’
‘Beating a man who won’t tow the line. Being sent out with a tax collector and having to get money off some poor bugger who doesn’t have two coins to rub together.’
‘All for Rome,’ said Indavara, kicking away a pebble.
‘Rome is not perfect,’ acknowledged Mercator. ‘I know both sides. But the army has given me a good life and the Empire brings order. And — for the most part — peace. Honestly, most of the time it’s just about looking after the men, getting them through.’
Indavara couldn’t imagine that. Having never had to look out for anyone other than himself, keeping an eye on Corbulo and Simo was more than enough for him. ‘Must be difficult.’
To Indavara’s surprise, Mercator laughed. ‘Gods, I remember my first few years. I’d get out of any job I could. I hated to be put in charge of anything.’
‘What changed?’
‘I’m not sure. But I remember one time when we’d chased a band of Palmyrans into the hills west of Apamea. Bloody diehards they were — dug themselves into these tunnels. Centurion needed volunteers. I was just a guard officer back then.’
‘You went in?’
‘Just me, a dagger and a lantern. By Mars, I’ve never been so scared.’
‘But you did it.’
‘I just realised I’d rather go myself than watch someone else do it.’
‘That took courage,’ said Indavara.
‘Or stupidity,’ replied Mercator with a smile. ‘Sometimes there’s a pretty thin line between the two.’
‘Is this really necessary?’
Khalima had his arm over Cassius’s shoulder as he led him into one of the smaller tents. Standing inside were the three young women he’d seen earlier.
‘Let me put it this way,’ replied the Saracen. ‘When we reach Galanaq are you keen to be the first one pulled out of line by Ilaha’s guards?’
‘Er, no.’
‘Well then, let me introduce Farrai, Elymaris and Golpari.’
‘Your daughters?’
Khalima roared with laughter, answering only when he’d recovered himself. ‘No, Roman. My wives. Well, some of them.’
Though surprised, Cassius was aware of this tradition among certain peoples of the East.
‘Is it really so shocking?’ asked Khalima, eyes twinkling.
‘I suppose not,’ said Cassius. ‘In fact I think it’s an excellent idea.’
‘Quite so.’
Khalima spoke a few words of Nabatean and the oldest of the girls came forward. She looked about Cassius’s age.
‘Golpari is Persian. She was an actress and what she doesn’t know about altering one’s appearance isn’t worth knowing.’
Golpari examined Cassius’s face and hair, then pointed at the freckles on his forearms. The two other girls giggled.
‘Where are you from originally?’ asked Khalima. ‘Gaul or Germany, I imagine.’
‘The north of Italy.’
‘Ah. Well, by the time Golpari’s finished with you, you’ll look like one of us.’
‘What? How?’
‘You’ll see. Shouldn’t take more than an hour or so. You’ll join me later?’
‘By all means.’
Khalima left.
Cassius stood there for a moment, not quite sure what to do with himself. ‘Do you speak Greek?’
‘And a little Latin,’ said Golpari. Her voice was almost as enticing as her face. ‘Which would you prefer?’
‘Greek is fine.’
Golpari gestured to a large cushion below a lantern. ‘Could you kneel there, please?’
‘Happy to.’
Farrai and Elymaris went to the back of the tent, where there were several wooden chests and some mixing bowls. Golpari brought over a stool and sat in front of Cassius. Unable to see much of the rest of her body because of her robes, he found himself staring at her face — and what a face it was. Her skin was flawless and surprisingly pale, though more surprising still were her eyes. They were an entrancing light blue, brilliant amidst the dark kohl and beneath the sweep of black hair.
‘You are fair,’ she said. ‘But I’m sure we can do something.’
As she spoke, Cassius’s gaze drifted to her plump, sensuous lips. It took him a while to remember what she’d said and formulate a reply.
‘Er … what exactly?’
The girls returned with two bowls. One contained a watery brown liquid, the other a thicker black substance.
‘Yuk.’
‘The brown is for your skin. It is a mix of plant dyes and oils. Usually we use it for decoration, like a tattoo. It will stain the skin temporarily.’
‘How temporarily?’
‘It will wash off gradually over a period of weeks.’
‘And the other one?’
‘That’s for your hair. It contains many ingredients including vinegar, nut extract and …’ She gave a little smile and consulted the other girls for a translation. ‘… and leeches.’
‘Leeches? By the gods.’
The three girls laughed.
‘It’s harmless,’ said Golpari. ‘It too will wash out after a while.’
‘Very well. I suppose I shall just have to trust you.’
‘What will you be wearing? How much of your skin will be visible?’
‘I can keep my riding breeches on, I suppose. Face and hands should be enough.’
Golpari took a dark cotton sheet from Elymaris. ‘It will be easier if you take off your tunic. I’ll have to do some of your neck.’