‘They will attack,’ said Uruwat.
‘Good,’ replied Kalderon, who was sitting beside him. ‘We have been lapdogs long enough. Shame upon all of us that Zenobia could push the legions out of the east, yet we won’t even stand up for ourselves on our own soil.’
‘Remind me,’ said a deep voice. ‘What happened to Zenobia in the end?’
It was Enzarri. Gutha was surprised it had taken him so long. Of all the ethnarchs he was generally considered the most loyal to Rome. Ilaha — and everyone else — had been taken aback that he’d even agreed to attend the meeting. But had he done so only to foil Ilaha’s plans in person? Use the occasion to advance his own cause?
Enzarri was a tall, handsome man with a mane of black hair. A notorious drinker and womaniser, he was nonetheless immensely popular amongst his own tribe and with many other Arabians. His reputation had been enhanced during the Palmyran wars and the Romans had decorated him many times. Even now — even here — he wore the golden bands on his wrists.
‘Tell me, Ilaha,’ he continued. ‘Are you also keen on being dragged to Rome in chains?’
Almost imperceptibly, Ilaha’s jaw trembled.
Enzarri continued. ‘My point is, the Romans may be on the back foot and their response may be slow, but there will be a response. Aurelian is marching eastward with tens of thousands of men.’
‘You probably wish you were with him.’
Enzarri glared at Kalderon. ‘Unlike you, I respect my fellow chiefs and the traditions of this Confederation. I meant no insult to Ethnarch Ilaha. I simply wish to remind him of certain realities.’ Enzarri turned back to his host. ‘The Romans will wipe Palmyra out in weeks, days even. The Emperor will show them no mercy this time. And you would choose this moment to provoke him?’
Ilaha had calmed himself down. ‘As direct as ever, Ethnarch Enzarri. I thank you for your contribution. But there is one crucial difference between us and the Palmyrans. Zenobia attacked Rome, took territory that had never been hers. I — we — are asking for no such thing; merely control over our own lands and the right to provide for ourselves.’
Kalderon was still eyeballing his fellow ethnarch. ‘Your lack of insight surprises me, Enzarri. The Romans could never do to us what they did to Palmyra. We have no cities to raze, no standing armies to meet in battle. If it came to it, we would strike when and where we wanted to then disappear into the desert. They would get lost or die of thirst. They couldn’t defeat us with ten legions!’
Three other men cheered and banged their fists on the table.
Ilaha smiled. ‘Kalderon is right. We do not want war, but we must show our strength to get what we want. The Romans know they need us. They will negotiate.’
Enzarri looked at Mushannaf, then Uruwat. It was obvious to Gutha that while perhaps half were onside, these three were not the only ones to harbour doubts.
Ilaha seemed sure he would never get a better opportunity to bend the Confederation to his will. He leaned forward once more. ‘The Tanukh must speak as one. If I am to communicate our demands to Calvinus he must see that we are in agreement.’ Ilaha tapped the treaty. ‘Shall I burn this, free us from enslavement?’
‘Do it,’ demanded Kalderon.
Ilaha took out a second, newer sheet. ‘I have here the agreement, written up with the three clauses I described. Shall we all sign it and despatch it to Bostra at dawn? A show of hands, perhaps?’
Of the twelve other ethnarchs, six raised their hands immediately. Several others appeared to be wavering.
Enzarri spoke up. ‘I believe there are some other issues worthy of discussion.’
‘You have spoken enough,’ said Kalderon.
‘What is it, Enzarri?’ asked another of the chiefs impatiently.
‘The raid on Ruwaffa. An unprovoked attack that the Romans might easily interpret as an act of war. Does our host deny responsibility?’
‘I do not know who was responsible,’ said Ilaha flatly. ‘If you do, please share the information with us.’
Enzarri glanced up at Gutha. ‘Perhaps he knows?’
Gutha resisted the temptation to meet his stare.
‘You should be wary of making unfounded accusations,’ said Ilaha.
‘It’s true I have no proof,’ conceded Enzarri. ‘Though the same cannot be said of the two raids on temples within my territory. Men were killed, treasures taken.’
‘You would blame me for brigandage within your own lands?’ asked Ilaha.
‘Witnesses I trust recognised some of the warriors,’ continued Enzarri. ‘They were your men.’
‘That is idle rumour,’ countered Ilaha. ‘Not proof.’
‘You have spoken today of enslavement,’ said the older ethnarch. ‘My people worship a dozen different gods.’ He gestured around the table. ‘And how many within all our lands? A hundred or more. Tell me, Ilaha, under your leadership will they — will we — be able to worship freely? Or will you demand that we all prostrate ourselves before your sun god?’
Ilaha had put his hands under the table so no one could see them shaking.
Yemanek was about to speak but Enzarri wasn’t finished yet.
‘Today you carry a sword and appear to be one of us. But it is said here, among your own people, that you consider yourself more priest than warrior these days, that you spend most of your time engaged in religious ritual with your … elderly friend.’
‘Watch yourself,’ warned Kalderon.
Despite the tension, it was clear to Gutha that even the more sympathetic of the chiefs wanted to hear a response.
Ilaha seemed to be fighting to control himself. He eventually took a breath and leaned back, the tension gone from his arms.
‘I could answer you now, Enzarri. I could. But I should prefer to wait until after the ceremony tomorrow. I think what you see will give you all the answers you need.’
After a long silence, Yemanek spoke. ‘My friends, it is perhaps better in any case that we all take time to consider Ilaha’s proposal. I suggest that we reconvene tomorrow to make a final decision.’
‘As ever, you speak with great wisdom, Yemanek,’ said Ilaha. ‘Shall we meet here at the same time?’
Yemanek and the other ethnarchs gave their assent, Enzarri included.
As the chiefs rose and left, Ilaha stood by the door, maintaining his composure until the door was shut.
Then, fists clenched, he stalked back to the table.
Gutha took his axe from his shoulder and put it on one of the chairs. ‘Overall I think that went fairly-’
Ilaha swept a hand down, sending a goblet clattering into a corner. ‘That piece of shit Enzarri. I’ll bleed him white and feed him his own innards.’
Ilaha grabbed the sheet outlining the new treaty and crushed it into a ball. ‘They almost signed it. I almost had them.’
‘You may still,’ said Gutha, electing not to mention his previous warning about the temple raids. ‘Perhaps if you told me what you have in mind for tomorrow.’
The door opened. Mother walked in and one of the guards shut the door behind her. She looked at Ilaha, who was leaning against the table. He didn’t even move when she walked up to him and placed her hand upon his shoulder. Gutha took a step backwards. He could smell her.
Ilaha turned to him. ‘Enzarri has no more than fifty men here. Take Oblachus and Theomestor and as many warriors as you need. With him dead, the others will fall into line.’
‘That would be a terrible mistake,’ said Gutha.
To his surprise, the old woman agreed. ‘He is right.’
‘I want him dead,’ said Ilaha, his eyes wet and bright.
‘What happened?’
Ilaha told her; and the process of repeating it all seemed to calm him down.
‘Enzarri’s time will come,’ said Mother, stroking Ilaha’s back. ‘You can rest easy tonight, my son, for tomorrow they will see. They will see the true power of Mighty Elagabal. They will kneel before him and they will kneel before you.’