Suddenly alone, Ilaha walked to the front and pulled down his hood. Cassius was surprised to see a youthful face, though even at that distance he could see grey bags under his eyes. His dark hair was cropped short like a military man but his body appeared thin, almost wasted.
Adayyid moved closer to Cassius, ready to translate.
Ilaha clasped his hands together then spoke. ‘Welcome, great chiefs and brother warriors of the Tanukh.’
He spoke loudly but did not shout, aware that the quiet and the amplifying effects of the canyon would do the rest.
‘I thank each and every one of you for journeying to Galanaq. Last night, I and the other twelve ethnarchs met. What I have asked of them I will ask of you. I believe you have come here because you realise that the Tanukh must stand up for our people. Rome has yet again shown itself incapable of ruling its vast empire. Rome takes; and gives nothing back. Rome is divided and weak. Now is the time to find a new path for we Saracens of Arabia.’
Other than a few quiet comments and nods, there was no significant reaction.
‘But there is another reason why we must act now,’ continued Ilaha. ‘Mighty Elagabal has chosen this moment to favour us. You are privileged to be here this day. You will see him, you will hear him, you will feel him among us. And with him at our side, you will know — as I know — that we cannot fail!’
Ilaha held up a hand.
A priest came forward and pulled the sheet away.
Though black, the strange surface of the conical rock seemed to glitter and gleam. After a collective intake of breath, a third of the Saracens dropped to their knees and bowed their heads. Cassius looked around. None of Khalima’s men had prostrated themselves but a few of their tribesmen had.
‘Fear it not!’ cried Ilaha. ‘For this is the earthly dwelling-place of Almighty Elagabal, god of the sun.’
Though he had expected it to be bigger, Cassius had to admit there was something uncanny about the sacred stone. He had never seen a substance that so embodied both light and dark. Ilaha stood in front of it.
‘The Roman emperor wanted this — the Black Stone of Emesa — for himself, but I have reclaimed it for the true followers of Elagabal.’
Ilaha changed the tone of his voice. ‘I know that this is difficult for some of you. You worship other gods. Elagabal does not hold this against you. He knows you are good, that you seek only freedom — to live under your own governance, to provide for your tribes and families. Mighty Elagabal welcomes you to the light.’
The sun’s rays seemed to dance off the stone, creating a shimmering haze behind the small figure upon the platform. More of the Saracens dropped to their knees. A few cried out.
‘Pray silence, brother warriors,’ said Ilaha. ‘Listen now, to Mighty Elagabal.’
He knelt down and bowed his head.
Then came the voice.
A low, unearthly rumble that seemed to emanate directly from the stone.
A chill prickled Cassius’s spine. At first he could make nothing out of the slow, growling hisses, but then he realised the voice was uttering words.
More than half the warriors were now on their knees. Simo dropped to the ground and covered his ears. Indavara was muttering to himself. The auxiliaries and the Saracens looked terrified. But they listened.
Trying to ignore the voice, Cassius recalled a discovery made during the affair of the imperial banner. He had witnessed an underhand method used by priests to influence their followers, and now he looked for some sign that trickery was afoot here. But the voice was so loud, so powerful, so … godlike.
Now some of Khalima’s men prostrated themselves, though the chief and his son remained on their feet. Cassius could see from the warriors’ faces that they weren’t doing so merely to conform.
The voice grew louder. Though Cassius didn’t understand the words, they seemed to penetrate his head. As others dropped down around him, the halo of light around the rock became almost blinding.
Everything around him seemed to fade away. There was only the light and the voice.
He saw a vast black figure, a colossal warrior, striding across mountains, the sun blazing behind him.
Gutha saw a gaping mouth with jagged rocks for teeth and fire for a tongue. The god’s words were irresistible.
Ilaha is the chosen one. Follow him and you will get all you desire. Ilaha is the chosen one. Follow him and you will get all you desire.
Gutha opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was the amulet, hanging out of his tunic on the chain. He had worn it only to appease Ilaha but now felt an urge to touch it. As incense smoke drifted past, he held it in his hand. It felt warm.
Gutha had never cared much for the gods. His family had forgotten theirs and shown little interest in those of their adopted homeland. He knew some said they heard voices from above but he’d never quite believed it.
Yet it was real. Ilaha had been right all along and now Gutha felt stupid for ever doubting him. As the voice continued its insistent refrain, he looked down at the warriors gathered in the canyon. Twice as many were now kneeling as standing. Some were covering their ears or shaking their heads or gaping up at the stone, open mouthed.
The priests were on their knees too but their heads were tilted to the heavens, faces serene. Gutha saw Reyazz, down by the crane. He too was looking up — but at Ilaha.
Gutha turned to his left. The old woman stood with both hands planted on her cane, gazing triumphantly at the scene below.
Suddenly the voice stopped.
Cassius shook his head to clear his mind of the vision. His throat was so dry he thought he might choke. He grabbed his flask and gulped down the remaining water.
Ilaha was back on his feet, arms raised high. He spoke once more.
Adayyid looked in no fit state to translate. Cassius moved closer to Mercator. It took a moment for the optio to gather himself.
‘His voice has not been heard for hundreds of years but now Mighty Elagabal has spoken. I ask you now to join me when the sun rises tomorrow. We will ride out from this place. We will show Rome our numbers, our strength, and with the unconquered god of the sun to guide us we shall reclaim our lands and our freedom. With Elagabal beside us we shall be victorious!’
A cheer went up from the guards and some of the tribesmen. But many of the Saracens did not join in; many had not yet yielded to the warrior-priest and the black stone.
‘It seems that some are not with us,’ said Ilaha. ‘That does not concern me. These brothers mean us no harm, they are simply taking a little longer to see the light.’
Ilaha prowled along the front of the platform, the calmest man present. ‘But there is another here who does mean us harm. A traitor.’
Cassius was still trying to absorb what he had seen, but now his stomach began to churn. He reached up and pulled the hood tighter around his face.
Ilaha continued: ‘A man who serves not I, nor any of the ethnarchs, but our enemies.’
Khalima turned, then thought better of it.
There was a noise from over to the left. Commander Oblachus was limping down the wide path from the cavern, a dozen guards behind him. All the Saracens began to look warily around.
‘On occasion Mighty Elagabal speaks only to me,’ said Ilaha, stopping in front of the stone. ‘He told me this man would be here today; that he would show him to us.’
Oblachus and the guards were walking along the front of the crowd. The Saracens were backing away.
Ilaha threw up his hands. ‘Mighty Elagabal, show us this traitor. Where is he?’
Ilaha moved aside and from the centre of the rock came a shaft of red light. Certain it was pointing directly at him, Cassius turned away, eyes stinging.
This is it. You’re a dead man. Dead.