‘Do Kalderon and Ilaha and their like not appreciate the fact that Rome has never even tried to conquer their lands? There are many other provincials with a good deal more to complain about.’
‘That is only because your masters know they would fail,’ said Khalima. ‘And don’t forget, Rome has repeatedly called on us to lay down our lives in the defence of the province.’
‘Surely you would have done so anyway?’
‘Certainly, but on our own terms. No offence, but we would have stood more chance against Zenobia’s horde without the Roman commanders. They do not understand how to use the desert as we do. People were hopeful about Aurelian but now it seems not even he can bring peace.’
Cassius didn’t want to argue with the man so he changed the subject. ‘The Saracens don’t actually harvest the incense, correct?’
‘We never have. It grows best in the coastal areas near the Arabian Sea, almost a thousand miles south of here.’
‘What is the ocean like?’
‘Like any other. But on a clear day you can see what your people call Dioscorides’ Island.’
‘I vaguely recall the name.’
‘Great winged beasts dwell there, guarding a distant land far over the sea. We have our own term for the creatures in Nabatean. You Romans use the northern word. Dragon.’
‘You have seen these beasts, I presume?’
Khalima stroked his beard. ‘Not personally. But then I don’t suppose you’ve seen Jupiter either. Does that mean he doesn’t exist?’
Cassius had no desire to get into that one. ‘Back to the incense — so the south Arabians grow it, you Saracens move it?’
‘For centuries it has worked this way. Of course, your antecedent Aelius Gallus tried to take the lands of both peoples but he didn’t fare very well.’
‘Strabo tells us he was betrayed by the locals,’ replied Cassius.
‘He failed for the same reason that an invasion would fail now. You Romans cannot build one of your big roads through there. You will never govern the Sea of Sand. That is why you need us.’
‘I daresay you’re right.’
‘They came through this area,’ continued Khalima. ‘Gallus and his men. I have seen markings on the rocks at Ruwaffa — dedicated to the emperor Augustus.’
‘How far is Ruwaffa from here?’
‘A couple of days’ ride west. In my grandfather’s time there was an entire legionary cohort split between there and Hegra. Calvinus should have known that leaving a single century so far from help was a risk.’
‘And a tempting target for Ilaha.’
‘Indeed.’
Khalima looked forward and cursed in Nabatean. ‘My son is a wonderful boy; brave and bright — but he always rides too slowly!’
The Saracen galloped away.
For the rest of the day they saw only the occasional trace of humanity; refuse left by the road, the scorched skeleton of a cart, some distant riders visible only by their dust trails. The quiet worsened Cassius’s sense of unease as they traversed the edge of the desert, hemmed in by the lifeless wastes to the east, the forbidding mountains to the west. With every passing mile, they were farther from help and deeper inside this foreign land.
At dusk they made camp by the road. Khalima seemed confident the weather was set fair and with sentries drawn from both his men and the auxiliaries on guard, the night passed without incident.
As evening approached on the following day, the Incense Road began to veer east, at which point they left it. Khalima picked up a westbound track even less clearly marked than the road and within a few hours they came to a pass between two imposing peaks, each at least a thousand feet high. Scree lined the pale grey slopes and lay close to the track.
Khalima insisted they were still too far from Galanaq to be concerned about Ilaha’s men, but brigands were known to operate in the area and he advanced warily through the pass. Twice they stopped because of noises from above but it was nothing more than sliding scree.
Beyond the pass, they found themselves in a landscape unlike any Cassius had seen or could ever have imagined. Separating them from the next group of mountains was a plain perhaps three miles across. The ground was unremarkable — sand dotted with thin shrubbery — but the shapes of the scattered rock formations were surreal. Sandy brown in colour, some resembled pyramids and towers, others enormous logs or beehives. Dead ahead was one so weathered and striated that it looked like a giant mushroom — a broad, curved head standing on a narrow body.
Adayyid had ridden at the rear for most of the day. ‘Good shelter and a spring,’ he told Cassius and Mercator. ‘We will spend the night there.’
Cassius looked south and spotted a distant line of camel-riders also heading west. ‘What about them?’
The Saracen seemed unconcerned. ‘Could be a caravan headed for the coast. Or going to Galanaq like us.’
Khalima opted for the northern end of the ‘mushroom’ and the entire party was able to shelter under the enormous overhang. As he dismounted, Cassius noted Indavara glancing warily upward.
‘Feels like it could fall at any moment, eh?’
‘I don’t want to sleep under that.’
‘Calm yourself, it’s probably been there for thousands of years.’
‘At least,’ said Khalima, stretching his arms as he walked over to them. He pointed at the base of the formation. ‘There are ancient drawings there. People have been stopping at this place since the beginning of time.’
‘You saw the riders?’ asked Cassius, taking off the sword Mercator had lent him.
‘I did. Tomorrow we will join the road to Galanaq — I’d be surprised if we didn’t see many others converging on the town.’
‘These ethnarchs,’ said Cassius, lowering his voice. ‘How many men will they have with them?’
‘Usually they travel with an honour guard of their finest warriors. Perhaps fifty or a hundred swords. Although Ilaha has organised the meeting alone, it is not unlike a gathering of the Tanukh. These occasions can be a chance for the chiefs to show off their riches and their strength.’
‘And Ilaha?’
‘He has a hand in the caravan trade himself and has gathered around him the single largest force of warriors. Probably two or three thousand men, though there won’t be that many at Galanaq. The town is small and there is little fertile land close by.’
Cassius would have liked to grill Khalima about every last detail of the place but that risked betraying his true purpose.
‘How long are you intending to stay there?’ asked the Saracen.
‘Until this meeting of the ethnarchs at least. In case I can glean any information about the result and their future intentions.’
‘As long as you don’t expect me to provide it.’
‘Of course not.’
The pair moved aside to let the auxiliaries lay out their bags and bedding.
‘By the way,’ said Khalima, ‘there are only two ways in and out. One is the road we will pick up tomorrow. The other is what they call the Goat Trail. Horses and camels can just about get through. It runs west all the way to the coast and comes out not far from the port at Leuke Kome.’
The Saracen moved off. ‘We shall get a fire going. The nights can be very chilly under all this cold rock.’
Cassius hurried over to Mercator. ‘Sounds like we’ll be encountering more tribesmen tomorrow; others headed for Galanaq, perhaps even Ilaha’s guards. I want the men to mix with Khalima’s people; get to know each other, practise your Nabatean.’
‘Very well.’
Cassius picked his way through the auxiliaries over to Ulixes. The ex-legionary had grown even more reticent since their arrival at the oasis and had barely spoken to anyone for two days. Forcing himself to ignore the odour of the man, Cassius asked whether he was all right.
‘Wonderful,’ he replied, not looking up as he unrolled a blanket.
‘Do you know Galanaq well?’