‘Not bad. I made use of it in Antioch.’
‘You have no reinforcements with you,’ Kabir continued.
‘No. I was in the area on another assignment when my orders came through.’
‘You are the youngest officer I have ever seen.’ Kabir downed another olive. ‘You must be an exceptional soldier.’
‘I would make no such claim. I’ve been ordered here to do what I can before General Valens’ forces arrive.’
The Syrian nodded towards the square.
‘If the Palmyrans have learnt that the well still runs, our days of peace and quiet will end very swiftly.’
Cassius sipped from his cup. The water held a trace of lime.
‘We have posted guards at the crest to warn us of any approach,’ he said. ‘The garrison is preparing the defence.’
‘And you believe these men capable of holding Alauran?’
‘Yes,’ Cassius said firmly.
Kabir laughed out loud, startling both Romans.
‘Forgive me. But such confidence! Before we ever set eyes on the legions, we were told that it was the discipline of the Roman soldier that set him apart. Perhaps it was true when they arrived in these parts but the East seems to have made them lazy. The Persians and the Palmyrans have made a mockery of Roman superiority in recent years. And I have seen nothing to match the discipline of my own people.’
Kabir paused for a moment, then leaned forward.
‘We start our boys with the sling when they reach ten years of age. They must fire at bundles of sticks twenty yards away. The bundles move a yard further every week until twenty becomes a hundred. Only when they can hit the target three times in a row are they allowed to eat.’
‘It’s no secret that I hardly have a crack century here. Nor do I deny that I could use your assistance.’
‘And now you will offer me the coins you carry at your belt.’
‘Will that affect your decision?’
‘Actually, now that you have confirmed we will in all likelihood be attacked, I am inclined to take my men and head north while there’s still time.’
‘Of course that’s your choice. But I know you have waited long for your just rewards. It seems strange to leave when that moment is so near.’
‘And what use is a reward if one is not around to spend it?’
‘You seem to think we cannot hold the fort. I believe we can.’
Kabir finished his drink and stared back at Cassius. As those emerald eyes bore into him, Cassius thought about whether he actually believed what he’d said, aware also that Kabir was trying to deduce precisely the same thing. The Syrian looked out through the window, then spoke again.
‘When one of your armies met them earlier this year, the Palmyrans held significant advantages in neither position nor number, yet they triumphed.’
‘I have no doubt that they are a formidable foe. But we have a position to defend. And a unit of slingers who can all hit a bundle of sticks — or a man’s head — at a hundred yards. If their leader chooses to fight with us.’
Kabir smiled. Now Cassius leaned forward.
‘I can assure you that you will be paid what you are owed. General Valens will want all the help he can get.’
‘You say that now. But when the time comes, you will enjoy the protection of your own. What guarantee do I have that we will receive our due?’
‘My word.’
‘I mean no offence, centurion, but in my experience the word of a Roman is worth little.’
Cassius tried not to think about the myriad of lies and half-truths he had already spouted during the meeting.
Kabir continued: ‘Under the terms of our duty with the Third Legion, we are owed six thousand two hundred denarii. I have the agreement with me, signed by their camp prefect. Can you really ensure we will receive every coin?’
‘I give you my word that I will do everything in my power to get you your money. Here, we can start with this.’
Kabir held up a hand as Cassius reached for his belt.
‘That is not necessary.’
The Syrian looked outside again. The men were chanting: a sorrowful refrain that gradually died away.
‘I will talk to them. See how they feel.’
‘They will follow you, won’t they?’ asked Barates, speaking up for the first time.
Kabir gave a wry grin.
‘They will, Barates. But we have been away a long time. The signs tell us that we have missed many a birth and death; that our loved ones long for our return. Each man deserves a chance to offer his view. Then we shall see what the Glorious Fire wishes for us. I shall tell you my decision.’
With that, Kabir rose from the cushions.
‘Thank you for your hospitality,’ Cassius said.
They exchanged bows once more and Barates led the way out. As they left, the rest of the Syrians arrived, their prayers finished. Barates nodded to a few individuals. Cassius ignored the curious stares cast in his direction.
As they neared the square, he looked back, watching the tribesmen gather round their leader.
‘Well. What do you think?’
‘If you yourself are a believer,’ said Barates, ‘I suggest offering a prayer or two. With them on our side, I think we may have a chance. Without them, I fear there’s none at all.’
XII
Simo had spent the entire morning setting up a miniature kitchen on one side of the officers’ quarters. After sweeping the floor clean and laying some dried grass for matting, he now had a small fire going. Though a little smoke hung in the air, most escaped through the window and a yard-wide hole he had cut in the roof with the wood-axe.
The Gaul had also gathered some essential equipment and food from the granary. Pots, bottles, bowls and jugs were now lined up in the corner, along with a water barrel and several jars of fruit. He’d found some smoked pork and combined it with a few vegetables to make a thin broth.
Cassius, sitting at the table, picked up a wooden spoon and took a mouthful from the bowl in front of him. Though the heat sapped his appetite, he knew it was important to keep up his strength. As usual, Simo had done well with the means at his disposal.
‘Most agreeable.’
‘Unfortunately everything here is preserved,’ replied Simo, squatting in front of the fire and stirring the pot of soup.
‘I must admit I could do with some nice fresh bread.’
Since leaving home, Cassius had found it difficult not to torment himself with thoughts of the common pleasures now denied him.
Simo placed a small glass bottle on the table.
‘Fish sauce, sir. You might add it for flavour.’
Cassius turned up his nose at the suggestion but picked up the bottle and examined it as he ate. He held it up to the light, admiring the curve of the neck and the religious symbols etched on the side.
‘Quite beautiful.’
‘Glass-blowing originated here in Syria, sir. I’ve seen the technique myself in Antioch. It’s truly an art.’
Directly opposite where Cassius sat, the men of the fourth section were gathered round the well, filling barrels.
‘Well, I’ve got them working, Simo. That’s something, isn’t it?’
‘More than something I should say, sir.’
Cassius looked on as Serenus leaned against the well surround and wiped his sweat-soaked face. The legionaries were working in the full glare of the midday sun.
Cassius stood, skirted around the table to the door and called him over. Serenus gave a few instructions and wearily walked towards the barracks.
‘A bowl for Serenus too, please, Simo.’
‘Yes, sir.’
By the time Serenus sat down next to Cassius, the soup was waiting for him.
‘Please. You look like you need some sustenance.’
‘Thank you.’
Chewing on a thick lump of pork, Cassius nodded at the well.
‘How are you doing?’
‘Twelve barrels so far. Eight are up in the gatehouse, four more by the granary. We’ll continue until all the spare vessels are full.’
‘Excellent.’