Just as on the previous day, every pair of eyes was fixed on the compelling figure standing before them. Though pale and drawn, Ilaha stood proudly, chin held high as he addressed the crowd in a conciliatory tone. The Saracens listened respectfully.
Cassius was looking for Khalima but many of the warriors also had their hoods up and he didn’t want to draw attention to himself. Someone tugged on his sleeve. He turned and saw a familiar face: Urunike. The young chief nodded towards the gate and Cassius spied a squat figure ahead.
When he arrived next to the Saracen and drew back his hood, Khalima shook his head in disbelief. ‘By all the gods, I didn’t think you’d actually come down here.’
Cassius whispered, ‘What’s Ilaha saying?’
‘He has spoken about the assassination attempt and the death of the ethnarchs. He holds no grudge against the sons or the tribesmen and hopes they will now join him and the rest of the Tanukh in the struggle against Rome. He denies that the black stone has gone.’
Khalima paused to listen before continuing. ‘He says there is no time for a ceremony now, that we must put all our energies into finding the saboteurs who set the fire. Gutha is pursuing some but others may be hiding here.’
When Ilaha briefly paused, a big warrior from Mushannaf’s tribe shouted out.
Khalima translated. ‘He claims one of the guards admitted to him that the stone has been stolen.’
Ilaha offered an appeasing smile before replying. Khalima waited until he’d finished.
‘He told Mushannaf’s man to be careful with his words. He risks offending Mighty Elagabal and should pay no heed to these lies.’
Cassius glanced around. No one else seemed keen to persist, not even the ethnarchs. The eight men remained easily identifiable — they were the only ones on horseback.
‘Are you ready?’ Cassius asked Khalima.
‘Yes, I have it. But are you sure about this?’
‘If he wins this crowd over, all is lost. It’s now or never, I’m afraid.’
The Saracen closed his eyes and muttered a quiet prayer.
‘Khalima, if this goes badly — kill me.’
‘What?’
‘Torture — I can’t face it. Slit my throat. Promise me you’ll do it.’
Those amber eyes searched Cassius’s and saw that he could not have been more serious. ‘Very well. And I shall slit my own a moment later.’ He pulled his hood forward to ensure it still covered his bandaged head.
Cassius looked up at the sky. The sun had reappeared from behind a cloud, once more bathing the valley in light.
He nudged Simo. ‘You remember what to do?’
Simo wiped his brow, took two paces forward, then turned towards his master.
Ilaha was speaking again.
Cassius whispered a prayer to Jupiter then pulled down his hood and shouted in Greek: ‘There is a traitor here!’
Ilaha stopped mid-sentence, then shielded his eyes and peered at the figure twenty yards away in the middle of the crowd. ‘Who are you?’
All those close by turned to look.
Cassius’s throat felt as dry as sand but he got his words out. ‘Nobody special. But I can identify the traitor.’
Ilaha hesitated, then gestured towards him. ‘Show us.’
‘I do not need to. Mighty Elagabal will show us all.’
‘What do you mean?’
At a nod from Cassius, Simo and Khalima held up the small, circular mirrors of red-tinged glass each had just taken from their tunics. Khalima angled his so that the sunlight from above was reflected onto Simo’s.
Several of the nearby warriors moved away.
Despite his trembling hand, Cassius positioned his mirror opposite Simo’s, then aimed the beam at Ilaha. In the shadows of the wall, the light could easily be seen playing over his body and face.
Ilaha held up an arm to protect his eyes. ‘What … who are you?’
Oblachus hauled himself up onto the cart to get a better look.
Cassius let the light shine on Ilaha a little longer then lowered the mirror.
Once Oblachus caught sight of him, he bellowed at his guards to advance.
‘Let him speak!’ shouted Urunike, and many others took up his cry. The guards and Kalderon’s men were about to try to force their way through when Ilaha raised his hands. The crowd quietened once more. Ignoring the protests of Oblachus, Ilaha stared at Cassius, fists clenched. ‘Who are you?’
Cassius reached into the satchel, pulled out the spearhead and lifted it high. ‘My name is Cassius Corbulo. I am a Roman soldier.’
He ignored the gasps and jeers. ‘I was sent here to recover the black stone for the Emperor. My men are returning it to Emesa as we speak.’
‘He lies!’ thundered Ilaha.
Dozens of shouts rang out, ceasing only when Oblachus and the ethnarchs restored order amongst their men.
‘No. You are the liar,’ replied Cassius, lowering the spearhead and holding up the mirror once more. ‘I found these hidden inside the stone.’ He pointed up at the body hanging from the wall. ‘You used them yesterday to identify that supposed spy while I and my men stood untouched. If you let us through the gates I can also show how you created that voice.’
‘Kill him!’ raged Ilaha. ‘Kill him!’
At Oblachus’s order, the guards drew their swords. Kalderon did so too and cried out to his men. The tribesmen facing them seemed unsure what to do but Urunike’s warriors already had their weapons ready and had closed in around Khalima, Cassius and Simo.
Cassius glimpsed a flash of movement to the right. With scant regard for his own safety, the bearded ethnarch Yemanek was driving his horse towards the gate. Warriors and guards scattered as he forced his way between them.
Once he had separated the two factions, Yemanek wheeled his horse around. ‘Lord Ilaha, we must hear this man speak.’
Ilaha seemed unable to do anything but retreat to the back of the cart, arms wrapped around himself. Oblachus attempted to speak to Yemanek but the ethnarch silenced him with a word, then turned to Cassius.
‘Well, Roman?’
Cassius was surrounded by Urunike’s men, their shoulders pressed against his, a forest of swords raised high. He had to cough spit into his mouth to keep talking.
‘I did not come here to act against the Tanukh — only to reclaim the stone. Governor Calvinus wants peace.’ He pointed at Ilaha. ‘This liar wishes only to lead you into a senseless war.’
‘Any man who protects him will be killed!’ shrieked Ilaha.
‘It is you that should be killed!’ answered Urunike.
A spear flew through the air.
Ilaha threw himself to one side and fell from the cart.
Oblachus ordered the guards to attack.
But now all the other ethnarchs had reached the gate. Showing remarkable horsemanship, they lined up on either side of Yemanek, keeping the two sides apart.
As the Saracens surged past him, Cassius was almost knocked to the ground. He glimpsed Ilaha’s purple cloak as Oblachus and a few others retreated, pulling the doors behind them.
Even the most committed of the remaining guards weren’t prepared to challenge the ethnarchs, who maintained their position until the doors were shut. Yemanek then dismounted and spoke to Kalderon. Heavily outnumbered and facing a man who still hadn’t drawn his sword, Kalderon eventually lowered his blade. His warriors and the guards followed.
Cassius turned around. There were hundreds more of Ilaha’s men in the crowd but they were split into groups and didn’t seem keen to take on the other tribesmen.
Yemanek remounted his horse and shouted to Urunike. ‘Bring the Roman to us. He will address the Tanukh.’
They found Ulixes on the far side of the pass. He was sitting against a boulder, his horse wandering aimlessly. Once off their mounts, Indavara and the others hurried over to him. The ex-legionary’s left hand had swollen to double the normal size; upon his palm was a livid red circle.