He sat down, located a wine flask and took a long drink. He could not escape the fact that there was now a very real possibility that Khalima would betray them. The Saracen would have difficulty doing so without implicating himself but he might see it as the only way to save he and his men. There was nothing Cassius could do about that. If it came to it, he would take out the spearhead and try to negotiate. They hadn’t actually done anything yet except infiltrate Galanaq. Perhaps moderate voices might prevail.
But all things considered, he didn’t fancy their chances. In fact, now that Ilaha had so effectively tightened his grip, he reckoned the warrior-priest wouldn’t hesitate to interrogate then dispose of every last one of them.
Simo approached, and bent over to look inside the tent.
‘Leave me alone for a bit.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Cassius drank more wine.
What if Khalima didn’t betray them? They could try to survive the next day or two in amongst the Saracens, then make their escape; or perhaps try to flee that night. Whatever they did, considerable nerve and composure would be required and the auxiliaries were currently showing little of either. Cassius knew then exactly what he had to do; it certainly beat waiting around to find out if he was going to die.
The tomb was musty but cool. Carved into the walls were dozens of niches but every one was empty. The burial spaces were identified by metal plaques or — for the poorer inhabitants — names scratched into the stone. Upon the floor were bits of candle and the skeleton of a bird.
Cassius had noticed tribesmen wandering up to the shady caverns from time to time to escape the heat and was relieved to see the men trooping up the slope attract little attention. He had told Simo and Indavara to attend and they arrived first.
‘What’s this about?’ asked Indavara as he entered the tomb.
‘You’ll see. And take those bloody stupid looks off your faces. If you can’t get hold of yourselves, how do you expect me to have any influence on the men?’
‘We should leave this place,’ said Indavara.
‘Some hard man, you. I’d forgotten how easily you fall for conjurer’s tricks.’
‘What tricks? Didn’t you see the power of this god? We cannot fight this thing with blades.’
Cassius turned his ire on Simo. ‘And what about you? Ready to give up your precious lord for a new one?’
‘No, sir. It must have been the work of a demon. It must have been.’
Mercator and others had reached the top of the slope.
‘Make way,’ Cassius told Indavara and Simo. The entrance to the tomb was a long, narrow passageway. Farther on it twisted and turned some distance into the canyon wall. Cassius waved the men along until they were in a row well away from the door.
‘This won’t take long,’ he said. ‘Nobody need talk but me.’
He looked along the line, meeting every soldier’s gaze before continuing. ‘I’m not in the habit of telling people what to believe but unless you men stay calm we’re not going to get out of this. So I shall not tell you what I believe, but three things I know.’
He waited until he was sure they were all listening. ‘Number one: I can’t tell you exactly where that voice was coming from but I do know of another group whose god told them to follow one man. If you think that’s how it should be, why not forget Lord Ilaha and worship Jesus Christ? Any takers?’
Cassius made sure he didn’t look at Simo.
‘Number two: I know — and you know — that we are without question enemies of this man Ilaha, yet no light shone upon us.’
Cassius let that one hang in the air a while.
‘Number three: Each and every one of you has sworn an oath not only to the Empire and the Emperor, but to the god of gods, great Jupiter — a god who does not tell his people what to do, but a god who listens. I know, I know, that even here, in this dark place, in this dark time, you will not forsake him.’
One of the men dropped to his knees. It was Yorvah; and for once the cheerful guard officer could not have looked more earnest. ‘All praise Jupiter. God of gods.’
Cassius knelt too. Next was Andal, then about two-thirds of the men. Mercator briefly glanced outside, then followed. The remaining auxiliaries did so too.
Cassius continued: ‘All praise Jupiter, god of gods. Please watch over us and deliver us from this place. Protect us from those who wish us harm. All praise Jupiter, god of gods.’
The men repeated the prayer.
Cassius stood up. ‘Wait down at the camp. I’ll brief you all later.’
The men filed out. Cassius gave a nod of appreciation to Yorvah. Mercator hung back. ‘I’m sorry. I-’
‘Don’t worry. Just get them ready to move — without looking like they’re getting ready to move.’
‘Will do.’ Mercator followed the others down the slope.
‘You’re a clever bastard, I’ll give you that,’ said Indavara. ‘But I know what I believe, and I’m not going anywhere near that rock.’
‘Forget the rock,’ replied Cassius. ‘Let’s just get out of this bloody place alive.’
XXVII
Gutha wasn’t sure what to believe. He stood alone on the path, still gazing down at the platform. The stone had been covered once more and only half a dozen guards remained. The men stood in pious silence, facing outward. Judging by their faces, they would have preferred another duty.
Other than them, and the guards at the inner gate, the previously packed canyon was now deserted. Ilaha had retreated into the caverns — to rest, he said — before a later meeting with his commanders.
In the moment of the vision, Gutha had felt so convinced, so sure; and he could not forget that voice. At the end, when every last warrior had knelt before him, Ilaha had walked past with a victorious look upon his face. Was it aimed at Gutha himself — the satisfaction of showing him the true power of the sun god? Or was it solely because he knew now the other ethnarchs could not resist him?
It was then that the doubts struck. Amongst all the hundreds of men serving the likes of the hostile Enzarri and Mushannaf, the traitor had come from Kalderon’s ranks? And Kalderon himself had abandoned his man almost automatically, without pause or question.
And yet that light, that voice.
Some ill-defined thought lurked at the back of his mind, yet to fully form and offer itself. Something was wrong.
He heard a shout from the gate. A waving guard pointed to a lad running along the path. As he got closer, Gutha recognised him as one of the boys who delivered messages around the town. When he took the note, he saw his name written in one corner. The handwriting was familiar.
Qattif’s horse was tied up outside the inn. Judging by the state of it, he’d not been there long. The parlour was empty apart from Alome, who was sweeping up behind the counter.
‘Wine?’
Gutha shook his head.
Qattif was sitting alone on a stool by the unlit hearth, a mug on the table in front of him. On the floor were his sword and saddlebags.
‘Afternoon,’ said the nomad. ‘Sounds like I missed all the excitement.’
‘What do you have for me?’
‘I had to spend a lot.’
‘You’ll get it back,’ growled Gutha as he sat down.
Qattif reached inside his tunic and pulled out a worn sheet of paper. He laid it out on the table between them. ‘It’s all a bit complicated so I took some notes.’ He ran a finger down his bony nose. ‘You really wouldn’t believe how much I had to spend.’
Gutha’s hand thumped down onto the table. One of the legs cracked but it stayed upright. Qattif’s mug, however, had landed on his saddlebags, spilling wine all over them. He would have grabbed it if not for the look on Gutha’s face. ‘I suppose I can clean that up later.’
He coughed, straightened the page and began. ‘I eventually found the only man still in the village who knew anything about the old girl. Like everyone else he was reluctant to talk about it so I had to give him … well, anyway, here’s what he told me. It turns out one of his aunts had lived quite close to this “queen”’s family — this would be about fifty years ago now. Her name was Kara Julia. Apparently she was quite a beauty in her day and she caught the eye of a young local priest. Rumour had it they were lovers. A few years later this priest became popular with the local legion. It was a time of great unrest for the Romans and he also happened to have certain influential family connections. You’re not going to believe this next bit.’