Stepping over the last of the protruding axles, Cassius noticed that someone had nailed six pieces of wood to the granary wall to form a makeshift ladder. With no plan more specific than getting a good view of the compound, he started upward. An avid climber since boyhood, he negotiated the wall with ease.
In more temperate climes, the granary would have been topped by tiles, but the lack of rainfall in the area meant that a timber frame covered by dried palm fronds sufficed. The layers of branches were, however, in desperate need of replacement and there were many gaping holes. Leaning on his side across two roof beams, Cassius looked towards the gate.
Avso and another man were there, pointing things out to each other and taking measurements. Others, including Flavian, walked to and from the marketplace, breaking up the abandoned stalls and returning to the gate with suitable pieces of wood.
Over in the south-east corner, the priest Yarak stood alone. Still wearing his opulent cloak, the Syrian was behaving rather strangely. Having already planted several spindly tree branches in the ground, he was now examining them from various angles. He would occasionally look to the sky and Cassius realised after a while that it was not the branches themselves he was interested in, but the shadows they cast. Tracing the shapes into the dirt with the fingers of one hand, Yarak clenched the other into a fist and hammered the air.
Wondering if this was the method Kabir would use to consult the opinion of his sacred spirits, Cassius offered a brief bow towards the sun.
‘Every little helps.’
Removing an annoying palm twig from beneath his backside, he climbed a little higher up the beams until he could see over the apex of the roof. Scanning back across the compound, he couldn’t help enjoying the few moments of peace as he observed the activity of others, content to be on his own.
He thought of the tall apricot tree at his father’s house in Ravenna. As a child, he would often escape there to avoid a lecture, a beating or one of his mother’s endless parties. Clambering up to the high boughs, he would spend hours watching the servants, the family and their guests, often until darkness gathered round him. More than once he had fallen asleep up there.
At some point, someone would come looking for him. Occasionally it would be one of the servants or one of his sisters but usually it would be his mother. She would stand at the base of the tree, hands on hips, calling up to him.
The precise words would vary but her speech would always centre on the same theme: life wasn’t about sitting in trees. Life was about coming down and getting involved; showing one’s face; getting things done. As with most of her advice, it had served him well. With a reluctant sigh, he clambered back down towards the ladder.
XIII
‘Any word from Kabir?’ asked Serenus, slumping down against the wall next to Barates.
‘Not yet.’
Cassius, standing opposite them in shade next to the temple, said nothing. He was determined at least to give the impression that the garrison could do without the Syrian auxiliaries.
‘By Mars, it’s stickier than a camel’s crotch today.’
Strabo rounded the corner of the temple, wiping his face with a cloth. In his other hand was a large wooden cup, which he filled with water from the barrel next to Barates. Avso was the last to arrive. Predictably, he stood as far away from the Sicilian as possible.
After several requests for a break, Cassius had eventually relented. The men had been given an hour off and most were either dozing in the barracks or eating outside the granary. The section leaders had been summoned to a brief meeting.
‘What about the gate?’ Cassius asked.
Avso’s lean features twisted into a grimace.
‘We’ve repaired what wear and tear there was and doubled up the main beams, but we can’t really reinforce it yet. Not while we still need to keep it open for the camels.’
‘What do you suggest then?’
‘As long as we get a couple of hours’ warning, we can strengthen it outside and in: cover the hinges, mount timber on the wall and across the main planks. It won’t stand up to a decent ram but it will be a lot tougher than it is now.’
‘Make sure you know how to do it and ready the materials. We’ll make sure you get plenty of time to prepare. Strabo, what about the wall?’
‘We’ve got the mixture right and the first layer is drying now.’
‘Will it be back up by nightfall?’
The Sicilian shook his head.
‘Not a chance. It must be taken a layer at a time or it won’t hold its own weight. Late tomorrow at the earliest.’
Serenus was next to report.
‘Twenty-one barrels filled. Another thirty or so still empty. Should be done sometime tomorrow.’
He raised the cup in his hand.
‘And there’s still plenty for drinking.’
‘Good,’ said Cassius. ‘I’m going to have my lot drag those carts out later. We can use them as barricades if the Palmyrans get inside.’
Barates nodded but none of the section leaders said anything. Despite the preparations, it seemed to Cassius that their months of safety within Alauran’s walls had led to a misplaced complacency they were still struggling to shake free of.
There was a wider issue. All four were capable in their own way, but they were soldiers of the line; more used to receiving orders than giving them. They could organise the men and offer advice, but ultimately it was with Cassius that decisions would rest. More than ever, he felt ill-prepared to make them.
Worse still, there was a man not thirty yards away, currently drinking himself insensible, who knew the enemy inside and out. A man who could tell him what to expect and how best to prepare for it. If he could just get him to cooperate.
Whilst waiting for others, Cassius had come up with an idea that might work but which was likely to be unpopular. The plan was audacious, dangerous in fact, but nothing like as perilous as facing the Palmyrans unprepared.
‘Listen, I want to make sure the men are ready for anything. That’s going to mean moving quickly. Simo found a tuba in the officers’ quarters. Anyone know how to play it?’
‘I believe Minicius from my section used to be a signaller,’ said Serenus. ‘It’s not that hard.’
‘You just need a big mouth and plenty of hot air,’ added Strabo. He leaned forward to catch Avso’s eye. ‘Fancy a go?’
‘Why don’t you take it, guard officer,’ replied Avso without looking at him, ‘and stick it up your-’
‘None of that, thank you, gentlemen,’ said Cassius. ‘From tomorrow, whenever that tuba sounds, everyone is to assemble round me, fully armed and in sections. Tell your men. We’ll work out a proper set of signals later.’
The Sicilian took a swig of water.
‘That it?’
‘Half an hour more, then get back to it. Strabo, obviously you and yours keep at the wall. The rest of you: when jobs are done, I want the men drilling. Fighting skills, close-quarters stuff.’
Cassius was glad that this rather vague instruction passed without reaction. ‘That’s all.’
He was halfway back to the officers’ quarters when the legionaries in the square suddenly became quiet. He looked up to see Kabir and Yarak walking towards him, again barefoot and clad only in their black tunics. News of the impending decision had evidently spread to the men; Cassius could feel numerous eyes upon him as the Syrians approached.
‘Good afternoon. Shall we speak inside?’ he said, pointing towards the officers’ quarters.
‘No, no, this won’t take long,’ said Kabir.
Cassius felt his spirits sink. There was, however, little to be deduced from the Syrian’s expression.
Barates hurried over to them.
‘My men and I will stay,’ said Kabir.
‘I am very glad to hear that,’ said Barates, barely able to smother a smile.