One of the warriors, a youth named Teyya, broke away from the mass of men. He ran past the archers and the cavalry, sensibly keeping well clear of the horses. He hurried up the slope, then knelt down in front of his leader.
‘What is it?’ Azaf asked.
‘If I may, strategos. Something that might interest you. A trick of the gods, a creature like none of us have ever seen.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘It’s best if I show you, sir. Will you come and see?’
Azaf was already tiring of the young man’s exuberance but he couldn’t deny he was intrigued.
‘Very well.’
Teyya half ran, half leaped back down the slope. He dodged through the cavalrymen and accosted an archer who had just dismounted. After a discussion, the man reached into one of his saddlebags. Out came a small sack, which he held carefully in both hands while following Teyya back towards the dune. By the time they reached it, another ten men had joined them.
Azaf pressed his horse down the slope and met them at the bottom. The archer dropped to his knees and lowered the sack to the ground. The men gathered round.
‘Wait,’ said one. ‘It might startle the horse.’
Teyya and the archer looked up at Azaf, then at each other.
‘Here,’ said the strategos, sliding off his saddle and handing his reins to the man who had spoken up. The warrior led the horse away.
‘Hurry up then,’ said Azaf, pushing his cloak back over his shoulder. ‘I don’t have all day.’
The archer delicately untied the twine around the mouth of the sack. A section of cotton bulged as the creature inside moved.
‘Don’t get too close.’
The crowd, which had now trebled in size, quietened down. The archer gripped the bottom of the sack and flipped it over. For a moment nothing appeared. Then a snake dropped on to the sand.
It was a young, yard-long viper banded by dark and pale brown. A common enough sight to all present, except that halfway along its length, the body divided in two.
Both parts ended in an identical broad head, topped by two black eyes. The tongue of one flicked back and forth, the other remained still. The necks were kept separate by a short stick tied just behind each head. A white dot had been painted on the neck of one, two dots on the other.
‘An abomination,’ said one man, eyes wide with disgust. ‘The familiar of an evil spirit. It should be killed at once.’
He began to unsheathe his sword. Others held him back.
‘Observe,’ said the archer, relishing the attention. He took two more sticks from his belt. Each ended in a Y-shape. He handed one to Teyya.
‘Have no fear,’ he said to those facing the snake. ‘They are not spitters.’
Simultaneously, he and Teyya clamped the heads down on to the ground. Then the archer removed the stick separating the heads. He put it to one side and took a small leather bag from his belt. Out came the body of a baby rat, which he dropped a couple of feet in front of the snake. The archer then took hold of both clamping sticks and looked round at the fascinated faces.
‘Better keep clear for this bit,’ he said, slyly whipping the sticks away before anyone could move.
Both heads launched themselves clumsily towards their prey. One sunk its fangs into the rat’s body, dragging it away from the other. Recovering from a misplaced lunge, the second head was instantly snapping at the other’s neck, causing it to drop the rat and turn on its competitor.
Before they could do any serious damage to each other, the archer trod on the tail and slid the sticks up each neck, bringing them swiftly back under control.
‘What do we think of that then?’ he said, grinning.
‘They are brothers, yet they strike each other,’ said Teyya.
‘If one injures the other, both will die, yet still they fight,’ said the archer.
‘What do you think, sir?’ asked Teyya.
Azaf looked down at the creature impassively.
‘I think it is in the nature of all things to fight.’
He looked up and glanced round the assembled soldiers.
‘And I trust each of you is as ready as they are.’
This brought shouts and cheers from the men. Though he was glad to hear it, Azaf was not usually one to engage in such banter.
Bezda had also been watching and now pushed his way to the front.
‘It is in the nature of all except the Romans,’ stated the cavalryman, ‘who would rather build roads and make trade!’
This too brought a cheer and a good deal of laughter. As the noise died down, the archer held up his hands.
‘I had been waiting for the right time to let these two at it but now seems as good as any. I’ll need twenty coins if you want to see them fight again. The odds-’
As the crowd pressed closer and men suddenly produced handfuls of coins, Azaf drew his sword. The warriors retreated. Before the archer could react, the strategos swung his blade towards the ground. He grabbed a handful of the archer’s tunic and wiped off the sword edge as the other Palmyrans gazed down at his handiwork. The two heads of the snake had been severed at precisely the same point, just below the neck. Even in death they remained identical.
‘There’ll be no gambling. Get yourselves and your horses watered and rested,’ said Azaf quietly. ‘We’ll be on the move again soon.’
Anger shone in the archer’s eyes but he regained control of himself quickly, lowering his gaze and bowing.
‘At once, sir.’
Azaf turned away again and walked back towards the top of the dune, Bezda at his side.
There was no set formal hierarchy within the Palmyran forces. Both men held the rank of strategos, but Bezda recognised Azaf’s seniority on this occasion because he was acting directly on the orders of General Zabbai. Bezda would retain tactical control of his cavalrymen, but the responsibility for overall planning lay with Azaf.
‘There’ll be time enough for fun and games when we’ve taken this fort, I suppose,’ said Bezda, shaking sand from his thick, knotted beard. He was a large, bear-like man and rode a horse of commensurate proportions, liberated from a Roman cavalry officer.
‘Perhaps. If we find the situation as favourable as the general suggests.’
‘You doubt his word?’
Azaf aimed a narrow glare sideways as they neared the top of the dune. He hadn’t fought with Bezda before but knew he was greatly respected for his strength and aggression, despite his advancing years. Azaf was glad to have the additional force but found Bezda, like most of the cavalrymen he’d encountered, rather arrogant.
‘Hardly. But I prefer to see the situation for myself.’
‘Well,’ Bezda replied, as they came to a stop, ‘that time approaches.’
Whilst travelling by road the column had passed several Roman milestones and they knew they were close. Some of the limestone slabs had been defaced by Palmyran soldiers, who had covered the names of emperors past with that of their queen. Leaving the road the previous evening, they had taken a more direct route across the dunes. It had been hard going, but they had saved several hours.
The two Palmyrans stared out across the plain. Pleasingly short of the horizon lay the angular outline of their last stop before Alauran: the city of Anasartha.
XI
‘Ah, what I’d give for a proper bath — half an hour in a hot room then a cold plunge.’
Cassius passed the last of the sodden towels to Simo, who wrung it out above a large bowl.
‘Not that I’m ungrateful, you understand. You have acquitted yourself most impressively, given the circumstances.’
‘Perhaps when we’re back in Antioch, sir.’