Avso cleared his throat, then spoke.
‘Though I see he’s reluctant to talk of it, the guard officer and I agree on something for once.’ Despite the sharp glance he received from Strabo, the Thracian continued. ‘We should wait until the Bear is asleep — then cut his throat.’
‘You can’t mean that!’ said Barates.
‘And what if that javelin had come your way, old man?’ countered the Sicilian. ‘You’d have been stuck like a pig!’
‘The man is drunk. Haven’t you ever thrown your weight around after a few too many?’
Strabo scowled.
‘Unfortunately for us, my weight is not the same as his. It’ll take half the garrison to hold him down, and though you don’t seem to have noticed, we have other matters to concern us.’
Avso spoke up again: ‘Mars knows we’d all love to have him on our side but right now he’s more likely to kill one of us than the enemy. How can we man the walls with him rampaging around behind us?’
Barates shook his head in disbelief.
‘I understand your concern,’ said Cassius, ushering the section leaders away from the men. ‘Really. But I cannot sanction such an act.’
‘It’s not something any of us would wish for,’ Strabo said. ‘But he is a danger to each and every man here.’
‘I’ll talk to him when he wakes,’ said Barates. ‘Make him see reason.’
‘Oh well, problem solved then! What are we worrying for?’
Strabo finished off his wine.
Cassius decided to bring the discussion to an end.
‘Unfortunately, gentlemen, this is not the Senate. I hold the senior rank here and I say no. The Praetorian may have a part to play yet.’
‘Oh I’m sure of it,’ said Strabo. He slammed his cup down, flattened his palms out on the table and took a deep breath.
‘Right,’ he said loudly, looking up at the legionaries. ‘Show’s over. Come and get it.’
Avso leaned in close to Cassius’ face.
‘You’d best deal with him, centurion,’ he said quietly, tapping his dagger. ‘Or I’ll do it my way.’
‘Have you no honour?’ asked Barates.
‘A little,’ replied the Thracian, turning towards the veteran, ‘but I’ve a good deal more sense. And what entitles you to question me, Grandpa? You’re a great respecter of rank for one who has spent so long in the army without attaining any.’
Avso walked away.
‘Ignore him,’ Cassius told Barates. ‘Serenus, what do you think?’
Serenus ran a hand through his spiky hair, then rubbed his neck.
‘It would be nothing short of murder. But it may be necessary for the greater good. The morale of the men is fragile enough; they don’t need an additional burden.’
Cassius winced at his words, not least because they made sense.
‘That man is a hero of Rome,’ said Barates solemnly.
‘Was,’ corrected Serenus.
‘If we could just get him to fight with us,’ said Cassius, gritting his teeth in frustration.
‘With respect,’ said Serenus, ‘I think your efforts might be better employed in other directions. What Strabo and Avso suggest may seem extreme but they have the interests of the garrison at heart.’
‘Their only interest is in saving their own skin,’ observed Barates.
‘That is the one interest we all share,’ replied Serenus.
As he too left, Cassius and Barates shook their heads.
‘I should be going,’ Barates said. ‘Antonius will be back later but he is to relieve me again around midnight. Make sure he remembers, would you, he’s a little unreliable at times.’
‘Of course.’
‘Julius can stay here tonight. I can handle one of the beasts.’
Barates was carrying a leather satchel, which he now filled with two canteens of water and enough food to see him through his shift. He grimaced as the weight tugged at his shoulder.
‘You’ve barely stopped these last few days,’ said Cassius. ‘You look worn out.’
‘Just keep an eye on this lot. That will help me rest easy.’
Barates placed a firm hand on Cassius’ arm and looked up at him.
‘Especially Avso and Strabo. Don’t let them do anything stupid.’
‘I won’t.’
‘Tomorrow then.’
‘Tomorrow.’
Two hours later, Cassius exited the officers’ quarters to find the square dark and empty. A rectangle of light from the barracks cut into the gloom, just as the harsh voices of the off-duty soldiers split the silent desert night. Despite the day’s endeavours, Cassius knew it would be a while before they sought rest. Strabo had asked to distribute an extra wine ration — a bottle between three men — and Cassius had readily acceded. The legionaries had worked hard to a man; they deserved a few hours off.
There had been no further trouble with the Praetorian. Crispus had called in with the news that he was snoring away and that they had placed a full water jug in front of his door to warn them if he stirred.
Simo had just returned from the aid post. He had found a recipe in the book to deal with ailments of the gut. Though he couldn’t lay his hands on all the ingredients, he was working on the preparation and hoped it would at least approximate the effects of Dioscorides’ concoction.
Arriving at the gatehouse, Cassius could see no sign of Avso or Flavian.
‘Avso?’
His voice was seemingly magnified by the quiet.
‘Up here.’
Wishing he’d brought a lamp along, Cassius entered the right-hand tower. Feeling his way with outstretched hands, he located the ladder and hoisted himself upward. He was soon at the top, gazing at the moon and myriad stars. In the middle of the walkway was the unmistakable bulk of Flavian. He was kneeling down, staring out at the desert. Avso was almost hidden behind him.
‘Over here.’
Cassius crawled past Flavian and took up position next to Avso, wiping dust from his hands. He looked to the east. Directly in front of the fort, about a hundred yards away, was a dot of light bobbing up and down, seemingly suspended in mid-air.
‘Ah, Antonius. I was hoping to see him.’
‘Look towards the horizon,’ Avso said impatiently. ‘Just to the south.’
Close to where the black plain met the grey sky was a smudge of orange. At that distance it was too large to be a single light.
‘What do you make of it?’ Cassius asked.
‘What do you make of it?’ retorted Avso coldly.
‘A caravan perhaps. Or a column.’
‘Obviously. The question is: are they headed our way?’
‘Can’t see yet,’ added Flavian.
‘Perhaps Antonius can tell us,’ said Cassius, now able to make out the lolloping movements of the camel. He stood up.
‘Are we not following military routine then?’ asked Avso.
‘What’s that?’
‘The watchword. What if that’s the Palmyrans out there? They’re known for trying a trick or two.’
‘Ah. Of course. Go ahead.’
With an exaggerated sigh, Avso sat up higher on his knees. The three of them looked down, listening to the scuffing steps of the camel as it neared the gate.
‘Who’s there?’ Avso shouted.
‘Antonius,’ came the tired reply. ‘Tide of the Tiber.’
‘Approach.’
Berating himself for his stupidity, Cassius realised that not only did he not know or recognise Antonius’ voice, he had no idea what the man looked like.
Avso and Flavian got to their feet and hurried towards the right-hand tower. Cassius took the left and descended the ladder as swiftly as he dared. By the time he reached the gate, one side of the door was already ajar and the others were outside. As he passed under the gatehouse, Flavian pulled the other door open.
Avso had disappeared into the darkness but soon re-emerged, holding the camel by its reins. He stopped and took Antonius’ lamp as he dismounted. In a moment, four faces were illuminated by its pale, yellow glow.
Now that he saw him, Cassius realised he did know Antonius. He was about thirty years old, with a chubby face that didn’t seem to match his muscular physique.
‘Well, what did you see?’
‘Nothing good. I first saw the lights about three hours ago. Barates agrees that it’s a column of some size. If it’s the Palmyrans pushing on from Anasartha, that’s the direction they’ll come from.’
‘Are they still moving?’
‘We don’t think so. Probably made camp for the night. If Barates thinks they’re approaching, he’ll light the signal fire.’
‘Anything else?’
‘No.’
‘No, sir,’ said Cassius.
‘Sorry. Sir.’
‘Stable the camel, fetch yourself some food, then get your head down. I need you out there again at midnight.’
‘Why me again, sir?’
‘I hear you have excellent eyes. Count yourself lucky you haven’t been digging all day.’
‘Don’t forget this stinking thing,’ said Avso, throwing Antonius the reins. As the sentry led the camel towards the gate, Cassius looked east. Down at ground level, the lights were obscured by the crest. A light breeze pushed his tunic against his skin and sent a chill down his back.
‘Well?’ said Avso. ‘What now?’
Though he couldn’t see it, Cassius could picture the long, sneering face and he purposefully took his time replying.
‘You two can return to the gatehouse. Wake me if the signal fire is lit.’
‘That’s all?’
‘For the moment,’ said Cassius, turning round. ‘Yes.’
‘You mean to place our fate in the hands of a single man? A decrepit old fool who should have retired before you were born?’
‘You’re forgetting our able sentries,’ said Cassius calmly, walking between the two of them towards the gate. ‘Who will remain on duty until dawn.’
Flavian grunted and kicked the ground. Avso spoke up just as Cassius reached the gate.
‘Centurion. Shouldn’t we man the walls? They might attack under cover of dark.’
Cassius stopped; Avso’s use of his title suggested genuine concern.
‘There’s no point in causing alarm without good reason. Nor do I wish to deny the men a night’s sleep when there’s no guarantee of any more. We can be ready quickly should the need arise. Still, perhaps some additional eyes wouldn’t go amiss. Give it a couple of hours then raise two of your section to man the gatehouse. You two can patrol the perimeter. Don’t stray too far. And don’t forget Antonius — wake him if he forgets his shift.’
Avso and Flavian, the latter still grumbling, made their way back towards the gate.
Cassius found Strabo and Serenus in the first room of the barrack block, along with most of the men. The legionaries had crowded into every corner to observe a game of dice. There was still a little wine left, plenty of laughter and banter, but no suggestion of excess.
Serenus followed him outside as soon as his face appeared at the doorway. Strabo arrived a few moments later. There was no mistaking the apprehension in their faces as he related the news.
‘Keep it to yourselves for now. We’ll see how things look in the morning. And try to keep the evening’s entertainment to a minimum, would you? We need them well rested.’
Strabo nodded vacantly, his earlier anger and habitual sarcasm replaced by a reflective calm. He returned to the barracks without a word.
‘How are you feeling now?’ Cassius asked Serenus.
‘Better. Well, I was until I heard that.’
‘It may turn out to be nothing.’
‘Perhaps. Caravans have been sighted before.’
‘Quite.’
‘Try to get some sleep yourself,’ said Serenus.
‘I will. By the way, I have a question for you. Tell me about Barates. How is it that one so committed never made it to optio or centurion?’
‘Joined up late. I believe he was almost forty. His wife and children were killed — a fire in Rome as I recall. Like a good many others, he sought refuge in army life. Never set foot in the capital again. Goodnight, centurion.’
‘Goodnight.’
With that, Serenus returned inside. Cassius cast a last gaze around the compound then hurried back to the officers’ quarters. Shutting the door behind him, he found Simo in the bedroom, for once attending to his own belongings. He had located another small chest and was neatly folding his few items of clothing and placing them inside.
‘Another long day, sir,’ said Simo as Cassius headed for his bed.
‘Aren’t they all.’ Cassius removed his sword belt and his main belt, then lowered both to the floor.
‘There are lights on the horizon, Simo.’
The Gaul stopped what he was doing and turned round.
‘The enemy?’
‘We’re not sure.’
Simo returned to his work while he absorbed this news. Cassius lumped down on the bed, then shifted back so he could lean against the wall. He spied a few sheets of papyrus on top of Simo’s bed.
‘What’s that you have there?’
‘Just some poetry, sir.’
‘Really? Who?’
‘Vergilius, sir.’
‘Ah,’ said Cassius after a long yawn. ‘The pastorals?’
‘That’s right, sir.’
‘Read me something. I should like to hear of flowers and green things amidst all this heat and dust.’
‘I could not, sir,’ Simo said, reddening and again busying himself with his clothes. ‘Not with an orator such as yourself for an audience.’
‘Hah, I’m fit only for barking orders these days, Simo. I doubt I could manage a verse without stumbling over my words.’
Simo was still looking down, intent on his folding.
‘Well, I shan’t force you. Another time perhaps.’
Simo nodded gratefully.
‘Do you think it is the Palmyrans out there, sir?’
Cassius shrugged.
‘It’s impossible to say.’
‘Then we may be spared yet.’
‘We may, Simo. We may.’