‘As am I,’ Cassius added.
Kabir seemed uninterested in their sentiments.
‘You should know this. Though some are keen to avenge those lost to the Palmyrans and wait for what we are owed, many wished to leave. And some believe we may not receive our due, myself included.’
Kabir glanced sideways at Yarak. The priest watched the Romans impassively, hands clasped together in front of him.
‘However, the signs tell us that we should remain. That a great victory will be won. And that some of us will return home rich men.’
Despite his optimistic words, Kabir’s tone was neutral, almost cynical.
‘I hope the signs are correct,’ replied Cassius. ‘But forgive me if I say you don’t sound convinced.’
‘Sir,’ warned Barates.
Yarak and Kabir exchanged comments in their own language. The priest seemed less than impressed by what he heard.
‘We follow the will of the Glorious Fire, yes,’ said Kabir, ‘but we are not stupid enough to believe that what is meant for us is always the same as what we wish for.’
‘I meant no offence,’ Cassius said.
Kabir’s expression softened slightly.
‘How do you intend to deploy us?’
Cassius had given the issue only the vaguest consideration. He hoped Barates might intervene but the veteran looked blankly back at him.
‘Well, how do you think you would best be used?’
Despite the fact that the two were so utterly unalike, the flicker of amusement that crossed Kabir’s face reminded Cassius of Strabo.
‘We were used as skirmishers. As you have seen, we have no armour but can do considerable damage with the sling. I suggest keeping us in large groups so as to concentrate fire. Preferably from a protected position.’
‘Well, that sounds fine.’
‘And how exactly will you organise the defence?’
Cassius decided honesty was the best policy: ‘We’re still planning that. In fact, I’m interested in any advice you can give. You’re sure to know more about the Palmyrans than most of us do.’
‘Possibly. Though in truth my people have spent more time fighting the Persians over the years. We did not expect to face an enemy so close to home.’
‘I’m calling a meeting of my senior men tomorrow. I’d like you to be there.’
‘Certainly. Until then we shall set about rearranging the encampment and readying ourselves for attack. I’ll need to send a party out to the foothills.’
‘Very well. Might I ask why?’
‘To look for stones. We have some lead shot but that won’t last long.’
‘Ah.’
‘Tomorrow then.’
‘Tomorrow.’
Kabir and Yarak left. Cassius looked at the men, who had all been listening. Most seemed happy.
‘All praise the Glorious Fire,’ he said with a grin, opening his palms towards the sky.
‘Indeed,’ answered Barates.
‘So, what of our large friend? I assume he’s still at it?’
‘At the time we need him most, he’s drinking more than ever.’
Cassius decided it was time to implement the second part of his plan for the Praetorian.
‘Keep an eye out for when he turns in.’
‘I’d be happy to, but I was planning to take the night duty out at the crest.’
‘Who’s out there now?’
‘Antonius. Uncouth sort but he has the eyes of a hawk.’
‘Pick a couple of reliable men from your section and tell them to follow these instructions. Once the Praetorian’s asleep, they should take every last barrel of wine out of the inn and put it in the granary. If you know of any in the barracks or elsewhere, confiscate that too.’
Barates frowned.
‘But when he gets up and can find none? The man will go mad.’
‘As soon as he’s up tomorrow, come and find me immediately.’
‘But he needs that wine. He’ll do anything to get his hands on it.’
‘That’s what I’m depending on.’
Cassius found Simo piling up the last of Petronius’ papers.
‘Some good news. The locals are with us.’
‘That is good, sir.’
‘You could sound a bit more enthusiastic, Simo. After the fright that scarred fellow gave us yesterday, I’d say recruiting them to our ranks counts as considerable progress.’
‘How many of them are there, sir?’ said Simo hurrying to fetch Cassius a drink.
‘At least thirty I should say. Which gives me almost eighty men.’
Cassius sat down and stared blankly at Simo, his thoughts elsewhere.
‘A century of my own after all.’
He took a cup of water from Simo and noted that the Gaul was no longer wearing his dagger.
‘I should prefer it if you continue to arm yourself. Especially with that money still lying around.’
‘To be honest, sir, I don’t like to carry a weapon.’
‘You’ve worn that dagger ever since I met you.’
‘Master Trimalchio told me to, sir. So that I might protect you while we were travelling. I’ve never done so before.’
‘Simo, if the Palmyrans turn up outside those gates, you’ll be another sword hand for me, like it or not. The men here are from the Third, you know — a legion originally raised in your homeland.’
‘I’d really prefer not to get involved, sir. Violence is not in my nature.’
‘Neither is it in mine, but aggression and skill with a blade can be instilled in the most peaceful of men. Trust me, I’ve experienced it first-hand. I shall place you with one of the sections for drilling this evening.’
‘Sir, I’d really rather not.’
Cassius was surprised by the Gaul’s persistence. He was now moving from insolence towards downright disobedience.
‘The decision has been made,’ he said firmly.
‘But sir, you’ll need someone to care for the injured.’
Cassius was about to snap back at him but saw instantly that Simo had a good point. At present there was no one to man the aid post and deal with serious injuries.
‘You’re pushing your luck, Simo, just be aware of that.’
Simo gave a conciliatory bow.
‘But I can’t deny you might be on to something there. What do you know of medicine?’
‘I’m no expert, sir, but I can dress and tend wounds. And I’ve had a look at the aid post. We would need to move some more beds inside, but everything else I’d need is there.’
Cassius made a show of considering, but he’d already made up his mind.
‘Very well then. Once you’ve finished here, make a start. You should be prepared for some bloody work though. A battlefield hospital is no place for the faint-hearted.’
‘I do not fear blood, sir. I should just prefer to try to preserve life rather than take it.’
Again Cassius was surprised. Though it was clear Simo had acquired a degree of education whilst in the service of Trimalchio, he occasionally made comments that seemed at odds with his station. It was not customary for servants to freely proffer their beliefs to their superiors.
‘Well,’ said Cassius, ‘quite the philosopher, aren’t we?’
Simo looked down at the ground. Cassius wished he hadn’t said anything.
‘You must still wear that dagger.’
‘Yes, sir.’
XIV
Serenus took charge of the evening drill, starting the men off with a jog round the flagpole. It was a common exercise, designed to concentrate minds and tire limbs before the first round of swordplay. The weary legionaries struggled not to run into each other or be tripped from behind, but, thanks to Crispus and a few other vocal types, they gradually got a rhythm going, even when Serenus ordered a sprint.
After the warm-up, he told them to draw swords and practise parries and thrusts. Shields, other weapons and manoeuvres could wait. Though unenthusiastic at first, most soon warmed to their task: hitting harder, moving quicker, criticising and complimenting their partners. Serenus offered guidance, altering grips and stances where he saw deficiencies.
Suddenly a high-pitched cry cut through the clanging swords. Cassius and Barates, looking on from in front of the temple, saw a man drop his blade and fall to the ground. The others all stopped as the legionary examined his wounded hand then unleashed a stream of curses at his partner. Cassius didn’t understand a word of it. The second man turned to face the crowd.