They found Reyazz face down next to a dead enemy, his arm twisted under him. When they turned him over, they saw he was still clutching a golden solar symbol on a chain around his neck.
As they rode on, Gutha realised he had lost another twelve men. Only twenty left. Still enough, though, and more of the night had passed than was to come. Dawn — and a final reckoning — was not far away.
XXXIV
Sunlight filled the canyon, swiftly vanquishing the cold night. A baby’s cries grew louder and louder, despite its mother’s desperate entreaties. Two old men wandered along the main street, stopping to examine bloody puddles where warriors had fallen. A dog trotted towards the outer gate, then stopped to sniff a dead horse.
Before long, dozens of the townspeople had left their dwellings to speak with their neighbours and survey the damage. Over in the compound, guards picked their way through the ruined buildings, sorting through the remains and clearing rubble. Scores of other warriors were still gathered at both gates; others had been stationed along the road.
At the encampment, some of the Saracens were also up. A few set about everyday duties, most stood in small groups, talking. The camps of Uruwat, Mushannaf and Enzarri’s tribes seemed empty but then the men quietly filed out of their tents. Following the fallen ethnarchs’ sons, they met on the track then marched down towards the road, two hundred strong. Every man bore his sword but not the coloured cloths.
Cassius looked on. Despite the blanket over his back, he couldn’t stop shivering. He and Simo were lying just inside the tomb entrance. It had been impossible to sleep inside the icy chamber but they had at least eaten. Simo had also bandaged Cassius’s swollen ankle and re-dressed Khalima’s head. Cassius looked for him, but the Saracen had successfully hidden himself amongst his fellow tribesmen.
‘Look there, sir,’ said Simo, pointing at the compound.
Oblachus was not a difficult person to spot. He had seen the tribesmen on the move and was now hurrying away from the compound towards the inner gate, accompanied by a dozen men.
‘Still can’t believe he didn’t send anyone to check the tombs,’ said Cassius. ‘Someone must have been listening last night.’ At various points, all three of them had made requests to their gods, Khalima pleading with the supreme Nabatean deity, Dushara. ‘I just hope their favour continues for the next hour or so.’
By the time the tribesmen reached the road, other curious warriors were following in their wake — some from the camp, others who had been billeted in the town. Oblachus was now at the gate and yelling orders.
Cassius dragged himself a yard closer to the light and watched as the guards swung the doors open. Without breaking his awkward stride, Oblachus went straight through. At another sweep of his stick, the guards immediately shut the doors behind him. The fifty or so of them left outside turned towards the advancing warriors and formed a line in front of the gate.
The tribesmen stopped about ten yards short. Those that had followed them drifted into the rear of the group. A shout went up and hundreds of voices repeated a single line of Nabatean — the precise phrase Cassius had suggested.
‘Show us the stone! Show us the stone! Show us the stone!’
Cassius hoped things would move quickly. Despite Khalima’s prompting and the determination of the three tribes to see Ilaha discredited, the impact of the crowd would not last long. Their demand had to reach the ears of the other ethnarchs if it was to have the desired effect.
‘Look, sir,’ said Simo.
More warriors from the other tribes were now gravitating towards the gate.
After a few minutes the guards parted and the doors opened once more. Cassius half-expected to see Oblachus but it was in fact the richly attired ethnarchs who appeared, each on horseback and with a handful of their senior men. Only Kalderon was missing.
Their arrival drew virtually every last warrior to the inner wall. While the tribes of the three dead ethnarchs remained by the gate, the others congregated around their leaders, who stayed on their horses. Judging by their behaviour, Cassius gathered they were trying to calm their men down.
‘What is it, sir?’ asked Simo, noting his master’s grimace.
‘The ethnarchs. Either Ilaha’s convinced them he still has the stone or they know it’s gone but are remaining loyal. Either way, they don’t seem keen on a confrontation. But unless they turn against him, Khalima and the three tribes are heavily outnumbered. Which means we have no chance of getting out of here.’
‘And Ilaha will continue with the revolt.’
‘Precisely.’
The crowd had quietened, even though hundreds more guards and townspeople had arrived. The ethnarchs were no longer speaking and attention had shifted to the gate, where the doors remained open.
Oblachus reappeared, surrounded by a mass of guards holding heavy spears. With him were Kalderon and his men, each bearing the grey cloth upon their arms. The combined force moved up until they were only feet from the warriors of the three rebel tribes.
Behind them was a small cart being pulled along by four men. When it stopped between the doors, a slight figure climbed onto the back. Clad once more in the purple cloak, Ilaha strode confidently to the front of the vehicle.
Cassius grabbed his satchel. ‘Help me up, Simo.’
‘Sir?’
‘We’re going down there.’
‘Really, sir?’
‘Believe me, I’d prefer not to but there’s no other way.’
‘What if someone sees us?’
‘That is why we must go now,’ said Cassius as he pulled the hood up over his head. ‘Everyone is watching him.’
Indavara and Mercator looked on as Andal inspected the auxiliary’s shoulder. As exhausted as the rest of them, the soldier — who was named Damon — had strayed too close to the rear of the cart. The wheel had shaved one of his mount’s front legs, causing the horse to stumble and throw him. The horse seemed unhurt but Damon had landed awkwardly on the rocky ground. The shoulder was badly cut and bruising was already coming through.
Mercator looked back along the road. ‘How far ahead do you think we are?’
‘An hour if we’re lucky,’ said Indavara.
‘And they have the whole bloody day to run us down.’
Mercator turned back the other way. Less than a mile ahead were the soaring walls of the Scorpion Pass.
‘You thinking what I’m thinking?’ asked Indavara.
‘We’re still a long way from open ground. We keep riding, we’ll just get more and more tired and they hit us when they choose.’
‘We’ve taken out quite a few already. At least we’ll get time to prepare; choose our own ground.’
‘I’ll tell the men.’
Indavara almost felt relieved. They could stop looking over their shoulders at last; the pursuit would come down to a simple, stand-up fight.
His thoughts turned to the others. Though he knew it would be light at Galanaq too, he somehow still imagined Corbulo and Simo being pursued through the darkened streets. Corbulo was a crafty sod — and perhaps Khalima or some of the others would help them — but however he looked at it, he couldn’t find much hope that he would see his friends again.
The soldiers broke up and hurried towards their horses. Indavara ran over to join them. If they couldn’t prevail, he, Mercator and the auxiliaries would never see anyone else again.
Cassius felt barely in control of his bowels as he hobbled across the sandy ground towards the crowd. There were, however, more new arrivals and no one took any notice of the two hooded men joining the throng. Cassius supposed it might have been wise to put his mail-shirt back on but it was unlikely to make much difference now.