‘Cheers!’ he said, holding the jug aloft. ‘And don’t go stealing my wine again, boy!’
Strabo looked warily at Cassius, obviously fearing another reaction.
‘Relax, guard officer,’ Cassius said as they walked away. ‘I have what I wanted.’
‘Glad to hear it,’ Strabo replied gruffly before turning his attention to Avso. ‘You too have a death wish, I see.’
‘Relax, guard officer,’ said Avso in a poor imitation of Cassius. ‘He is but a man. A large one admittedly, but a man nonetheless.’
‘And you would take him on, I suppose?’ replied Strabo with a sneer. ‘You were quick enough to play barkeeper!’
‘That’ll do,’ said Cassius sharply, coming to a halt at the corner of the square. ‘Gentlemen, I hope our visit to the inn has given you time to regain some energy. There is yet more work to do.’
Drilling would have to wait. Cassius and his deputies worked out a new plan of action and each section was deployed accordingly.
Serenus and his men were in the workshop, where there was a plentiful supply of large nails. Hammered together in the right manner, the makeshift caltrops would, however they were dropped, offer up a sharp point ready to impale itself in a passing hoof.
Strabo’s men had finished repairing the breach and would now assist Barates’ section with the barricades. The four carts had been hauled over to the open area behind the gate. When turned on their sides, the vehicles plus the gate would form a five-sided enclosure: the Praetorian’s killing area.
Strabo suggested removing one in every three planks from the base of the carts, allowing the defenders to strike out at the enemy. The wood removed (along with that recovered from the marketplace) would be used to reinforce any vulnerable points.
Avso had instructed his carpenters to undo their work on the gate. His section was now outside the fort, filling barrels with sand using entrenching tools. The sand would then be moved inside and used to steady the cart wall. As they toiled away under the burning sun, the men sang bawdy songs about the sexual exploits of their beloved Caesar. Some chose to work completely naked but sweat was soon dripping off them all, so Avso tasked Julius with supplying water. Happy that all were settled to the task, the Thracian too was now busy digging, alongside Crispus and Flavian.
It seemed that his recent efforts were finally telling on Barates. The veteran sat on a barrel in the shade of the dwellings as the others laboured, occasionally passing comment or making a suggestion. He was not the only one observing.
Standing on the roof directly above him were Cassius and Kabir. Though he was grateful for the Praetorian’s contributions, Cassius refused to believe that the Syrian and his men would not be of crucial importance. He had taken Serenus aside at the officers’ quarters, seeking his advice on how to deploy the auxiliaries.
‘Ask their leader,’ had been the straightforward reply and Cassius had done just that. Now, having followed Kabir up to the dwelling roof, he watched the Syrian prowl back and forth, surveying the scene below.
‘Well?’
Kabir pointed across at the dwelling opposite, on the other side of the street.
‘I can divide my men: half on this side, half over there. It’s a good position. Assuming the Palmyrans come through the gate.’
‘You think they will?’
‘I may be Syrian but I know little more of their tactics than you. My people have no experience of knocking down walls and taking buildings. In times of peace it is rare for us even to stay in the same place for more than a few months. We do not see the value of wood and stone as you do.’
‘You see the value of water, though, I presume?’ said Cassius, pointing towards the well.
‘Indeed.’ Kabir wandered to the edge of the roof and tapped the low surround.
‘It is a shame this isn’t higher. Archers will have no trouble dropping a few arrows on our heads once they know we’re here.’
‘Maybe we can give you a bit more protection. Some timber perhaps.’
‘No. Then they will know we are here straight away. I suggest we start on the ground; remain mobile. If we avoid using the slings, any Palmyran that sees us will assume we are common auxiliaries. If they do come through the gate we can move up here. A hail of well-aimed lead might help this “killing area” become a reality.’
‘Quite.’
‘Yarak can take one half, I’ll take the other. Sixteen on each side. I hope this roof will take our weight.’
Kabir stamped down on the brick, taking out a section with his heel. Below was a frame of alarmingly thin planks on which the clay had been set. The Syrian shrugged.
The heat up on the roof was stifling and intense. Cassius could feel the skin on his forearms burning.
‘Shall we head back down?’ he said, moving towards the ladder. ‘I must get out of this damned sun.’
He was on the third rung before he realised what he’d said.
‘I apologise.’
Kabir looked down at him gravely.
‘It’s fortunate that we’re alone. Some of my men have a fair grasp of Latin and they are all less forgiving of foreign attitudes than I.’
Kabir pointed at Cassius’ mouth.
‘Yarak would have your tongue for that.’
Cassius was unsure how to respond. He thought he saw a smile coming.
‘Surely you exaggerate,’ he said.
The smile never arrived but the green eyes shone as Kabir nodded an acknowledgement.
‘Perhaps I do. His Latin is poor at best.’
Cassius could not help laughing.
Kabir waved him downward, finally breaking into a grin.
‘Come on, you’re right. It is hot.’
They went their separate ways. With not a single legionary anywhere near the barracks, Cassius was satisfied that all were constructively engaged. He wandered over to the aid post.
It was a small room: fifteen feet wide, ten deep. On the right side were three beds, no more than holey straw mattresses supported by rickety frames. On the left were three rectangular impressions left on the sandy floor where other beds had been removed. Lined up against the far wall were four large wooden chests. The first three had been opened. Inside were bandages and splints; probes, hooks and blades; even vials containing medicinal liquids.
The fourth chest was shut and Simo sat on top of it, for once not busying himself with some practical labour, but reading intently from a thick collection of papyrus pages bound by twine. The Gaul was so engrossed that he didn’t notice Cassius standing in the doorway.
‘Wish I had time for some light reading.’
Simo looked up with a start and dropped the book.
‘Sir, my apologies,’ he mumbled, recovering the tome and dusting it down.
‘Are not necessary,’ Cassius said as he entered, turning his nose up at the close, musty air.
‘What do you have there?’
‘A medical manual, sir. A surgeon must have been stationed here at some point.’
Cassius took the book from Simo and examined the first page. The Greek text was fluid and clear, the work of an expert scribe.
‘Nice copy. Ah yes, Dioscorides. One of my teachers was always going on about him. Greek fellow that travelled with Nero. Made a great list of plants and minerals, their medical properties and how to make use of them.’
Simo looked across at the other chests.
‘There are a host of treatments, sir. Though I fear some might be past their best.’
‘Well, you might be able to make some use of it, but a good supply of water and bandages should be your priority.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Simo took the book back from Cassius and laid it on top of the chest.
‘Best see what you can do about getting more beds in here. We might need them all at some point. Is there anything else you can think of?’
‘Nothing I can’t attend to myself, sir.’
‘Very well. I’ll leave you to it then.’
Just as Cassius turned to leave, he saw a small wooden model of a chariot on another of the chests. He picked it up.