‘All right, calm down.’
‘I’ll warn the men.’
Cassius got up, and in his haste knocked over an unlit lantern. As Simo righted it, Ulixes chuckled.
‘Perhaps it’s you who needs to calm down.’
Cassius glanced towards the wine barrel and the grain sack, which had been purposefully buried under some other baggage.
‘Outside,’ he said. ‘Let’s not look like we’re hiding.’
Ulixes got up and came forward.
‘Sir.’ Simo nodded at the gambler.
He was wearing a sleeveless tunic. Visible upon his upper right arm was a tattoo detailed in green ink. SPQR.
‘Oh, sorry. I forgot.’
Cassius grabbed him by the collar. ‘You stupid prick. You dare betray us and I’ll-’
Ulixes swatted his hand away. ‘You’ll what? Don’t forget I saw your performance at the spice market. Your bodyguard’s not here now. Do you really think I’m scared of you?’
Cassius could hear the guards speaking as they approached. ‘They see that tattoo, you won’t see another sunrise.’
‘Possibly. Unless I have something to offer them.’
Indavara ducked into the tent. ‘You should come outside.’
Cassius was still looking at Ulixes. ‘Cover it.’
The gambler picked up a sleeved tunic.
‘Problem?’ said Indavara.
‘Not any more. Everyone outside.’
As they joined Mercator, Adayyid and the men by their newly lit fire, the commander led his men off the track. He was an imposing figure, his broad frame heavy with muscle and fat. Like the others, his tunic bore the solar symbol, yet it was of notably higher quality. The commander was bald and clean shaven but this was a face crying out for hair and a beard: not a single feature was unmarked, symmetrical or in any way appealing. He carried a gnarled stick in one hand to help him walk. Cassius reminded himself to fade into the background as the commander spoke to Adayyid in Nabatean.
Mercator whispered a translation. ‘His name’s Oblachus, chief of guards. Wants to look around, check our gear. Adayyid told him we have nothing to hide but he’s insisting. We must stay here while they carry out the search.’
Oblachus directed one man towards the horses, another to the supplies piled up close to the fire. The rest — some of whom were carrying lanterns — went into the tents. Oblachus limped over to the watching auxiliaries and tribesmen. He spoke to one of Khalima’s men briefly, then moved on to Mercator.
With the chief guard occupied, Cassius looked at the tent. He could see the lanterns moving within and the guards’ backs pressing against the covers. He doubted the barrel would arouse any suspicion, and even if it did the money could be explained away. The contents of the grain sack were another matter.
Please, Jupiter. Please.
Oblachus continued to examine the new arrivals. He switched to Greek. ‘So where are these Syrians?’
Cassius stepped forward, along with Indavara, Simo and Ulixes.
‘My grandfather was Syrian,’ said Oblachus. ‘He was a miserly prick but I’ll try not to hold it against you.’
Like the others, Cassius manafactured a grin.
‘Where are you from?’ asked Oblachus, resting both hands on the top of his stick.
Cassius continued to affect a rough Syrian accent based on one of his father’s gardeners. ‘Antioch.’
‘Who’d you fight for in the Palmyran war?’
‘Wasn’t here. We were in Thrace. We go where the work is.’
‘Ever fight for the Romans?’
‘Nah.’
Oblachus turned his gaze upon Ulixes. ‘What about you?’
‘Same.’
Oblachus nodded at Adayyid. ‘How long you been with this lot?’
‘Must be about a year now.’
Cassius tried not to show his relief. Ulixes had been listening.
Oblachus waved Indavara forward. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Imbrasus.’ Indavara didn’t have to try to affect a rough accent; Cassius imagined he’d picked it up from his fellow gladiators.
‘Why you carrying a Roman sword, Imbrasus?’
‘I could ask you the same,’ said Indavara.
‘Just testing. Can’t say a lot else for the arseholes but they know how to make a blade. So if you’ve been with Khalima’s lot all these months, you must have been down the Incense Road?’
Cassius cringed. They had been over all this but Indavara wasn’t the best when it came to remembering details.
‘We have,’ said the bodyguard. ‘Twice.’
‘Tell me — heading south from Sa’ada, what’s the next stop?’
‘Er, Yathul, is it?’
‘It is.’ Oblachus moved on. ‘Now here’s the fat lad. My friends down at the gate told me you’re quite the swordsman. That true?’
Cassius didn’t dare look.
Simo was staying quiet.
‘You don’t look like much of a fighter to me,’ added Oblachus. ‘Draw your blade.’
Adayyid walked over. ‘Commander, I must protest. If my father were here-’
‘If your father were here, he would be sensible enough to hold his tongue.’
‘We were invited to Galanaq by Lord Ilaha,’ continued Adayyid. ‘This interrogation is-’
Oblachus aimed his stick at him. ‘Shut your mouth, pup, or I will shove this so far up your arse you’ll think you’re a tree.’
Adayyid retreated. Simo was frozen to the spot, eyes wide, sweat glistening on his face.
‘Draw your blade,’ repeated Oblachus.
One of the guards called out. For a horrifying moment, Cassius thought they’d emptied the grain sack, but the man came out of one of the auxiliaries’ tents. He hurried over to Oblachus and gave him a small object.
The commander limped over to the fire and held it up. ‘Well, well. An interesting find.’
It was a small wooden figurine; a god holding a spear.
‘Mars,’ said Oblachus distastefully. ‘Tell me, who has dared to enter Galanaq as a devotee of the Roman god of war?’
Mercator had reddened with rage. Andal looked almost as angry as the optio. Yorvah was chewing the inside of his mouth.
‘It is mine.’
One of the younger auxiliaries stepped forward. Khiran — an excellent rider who often volunteered to do the cooking and had struck up a friendship with Simo.
Oblachus gave Adayyid a triumphant smirk. ‘I knew something didn’t smell right about you lot.’
The rest of the guards had finished their search. At Oblachus’s order, they readied their weapons and gathered behind him.
Cassius could feel Mercator’s eyes on him but he was still looking at the figurine. He decided to act quickly.
‘Ha.’
Oblachus glared at him. ‘Something funny, Syrian?’
‘Not really. But if you want to have a go at our mate, you might want to take another look at that.’
Oblachus did so.
‘No beard, right?’ added Cassius, maintaining the low-born accent.
‘So?’
‘Mars is one of the Roman father gods. He has a beard. That ain’t Mars.’
To Cassius’s surprise, Ulixes spoke up. ‘He’s right.’
Now Oblachus was looking confused.
‘That there is Ares,’ said Cassius. ‘Greek war god. Ares is young — no beard.’
Oblachus turned to the man who’d found the figurine. The guard shrugged. Two other, older men nodded. Oblachus aimed his stick at Khiran. ‘That right?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, Greek’s better than Roman, I suppose, but as you can see’ — Oblachus tapped the solar emblem on his tunic — ‘we’re of one mind in these parts when it comes to worship. You lot better get that message pretty quick if you want to stick around.’
He tossed the figurine into the fire.
To Cassius’s amazement, Khiran ran at him. Fortunately, Andal and Yorvah blocked his path and grabbed him before he got very far.
Oblachus found this very amusing. ‘Just trying to help you lads fit in, is all. Best watch yourselves.’
After a last look around, the commander addressed his men in Nabatean. They sheathed their swords and followed him back along the track.