‘We arm ourselves, man the walls and wait.’
‘And then?’
‘That rather depends on our enemies, doesn’t it?’
‘It does,’ agreed Serenus. ‘Once we see our foe’s numbers and how they arrange themselves, we will have to adapt and improvise. But we can establish our basic options, including the Praetorian’s plan, and relate them to the men. Otherwise doubt and uncertainty will spread. I’ve seen it before.’
‘You’re right. And we must do it now,’ said Cassius. ‘Crispus, you find Avso. Strabo, you get Kabir. We shall meet, then address the men in front of the gate.’
As they left, Cassius headed for the stables to try to find Julius; he hadn’t seen him all morning. Both horses were resting their noses on the doors, sniffing the morning air, and they shuffled noisily as he approached. With a quick pat for both animals, he continued past the empty stalls and found the remaining camels at the other end. The boy was not there.
‘Julius!’
The only noise in the compound came from either the barracks or the encampment.
‘Julius!’
Met again with no reply, Cassius walked briskly round the end of the granary, past the workshop and along the southern wall. He met Strabo and Kabir leaving the Syrian camp.
‘Have you seen the lad?’
‘No,’ answered Strabo.
Cassius turned towards the granary.
‘He’s not in there,’ added the Sicilian.
‘Kabir?’
‘Not since yesterday.’
‘Strange.’
‘Strange indeed,’ replied Strabo speculatively. The man made so many underhand comments that Cassius was now hearing some second meaning in everything he said. ‘Did you get anywhere with Flavian?’ the Sicilian asked.
Before Cassius could reply, there was a shout from the other side of the square. Serenus, Avso and Crispus were already outside the officers’ quarters. Thankful for the interruption, Cassius led the way.
Once inside, they sat round the table and Cassius reiterated the basics of the Praetorian’s plan. There were interjections here and there, mainly from Serenus and Strabo, but he took care to keep things moving. When it came to the role of the Syrians, Kabir too had his say, once again impressing all with his faultless Latin and calm, logical thinking.
As soon as they turned to other eventualities, and how they might be dealt with, Serenus took the lead. He was as robust as Cassius had seen him, guiding the discussion expertly. Avso was unusually quiet, though even he made the odd contribution, as did the ever-keen Crispus. Struggling at times to grasp certain tactical intricacies, Cassius was content to give way to the others.
Later, when the noise outside suggested that most of the legionaries were kitted up and ready, Serenus clarified a few key points and brought the meeting to a close.
‘My thanks,’ said Cassius. ‘You seem to have a natural grasp of these matters. I shall speak first to the men, but I think it would be preferable if you deliver the bulk of the briefing. Agreed?’
‘By all means,’ said Serenus.
Leaning back on his stool to peer round Strabo’s broad back, Cassius saw sunlight sparkling on newly polished armour.
‘Time to move I think.’
They filed out. Kabir left for the encampment while the section leaders began gathering their men.
Simo, sweating heavily, stalked out of the aid post.
‘Apologies, sir,’ he said, wiping his brow. ‘I was wrapping the body. It took longer than I thought.’
‘No matter,’ said Cassius. ‘But I will need my armour and helmet in a few minutes. See to it, would you.’
As he stood there amongst the men, his hand at rest on the hilt of his sword, Cassius’ thoughts turned to the prospect of battle.
The enemy were close now; so close that they might be at the wall in a matter of hours. If so, the garrison might be overrun before nightfall. It was possible, probable even, that he might not live to see another day. The thought occupied him so wholly that he barely noticed when those around him fell silent and began to turn in one direction.
Only when a nearby legionary breathed a curse did Cassius look up. Along with every other man in the square, his gaze was drawn to the small figure that had just emerged from the temple.
Julius stared down as he walked round the well, arms hanging by his side. He was barefoot, and his unkempt hair covered most of his face. In the middle of his tunic were several large blotches of dried blood.
XXI
‘We cannot stay here long,’ said Bezda, surveying the bleak plain that surrounded the column. ‘Not without a supply chain back to Anasartha.’
Azaf looked at the men putting the finishing touches to a wide network of awnings — essential protection for the warriors and horses. They had made good progress the previous day, and were now within striking distance of their objective. A short distance away, twenty of his swordsmen were already mounted, ready to join their leader for a scouting mission.
‘Your point?’ he said.
‘My point,’ answered Bezda gruffly, ‘is that we must strike quickly.’
Azaf glanced at the crest, where the signal fire was now producing only a thin trail of smoke.
‘I think it’s safe to say we’ve lost the element of surprise.’
‘Clearly. But why give them time to prepare their defences?’
Azaf didn’t reply. Though he was prepared to tolerate Bezda’s comments out of respect for the cavalryman’s station, he would not engage in a debate about strategy until he was ready. Instead, he called out to Razir. The aged warrior was with the scouting party, holding Azaf’s horse for him.
‘Fetch Teyya.’
Razir passed the reins to another man and jogged away.
‘What should I tell my men?’ asked Bezda impatiently. Sweat shone above his mouth and on his forehead; he obviously wanted to get out of the early afternoon sun.
‘Tell them they should ready themselves for an attack. Is that acceptable to you?’
Humility didn’t come easily to Azaf but he needed the cavalryman’s cooperation.
‘General Zabbai obviously puts great trust in your judgement,’ said Bezda after a moment. ‘That’s good enough for me.’
Azaf nodded cordially as Bezda wiped his face and strode away.
There was no denying the truth of the cavalryman’s words. With the limited supplies of water on the carts, they couldn’t expect to stay longer than a day or two. The Palmyran troops could survive on remarkably little, but this was a battle and even a short engagement in the summer heat would tire them quickly. Without adequate refreshment, neither horses nor men would last long.
Zabbai wanted a swift resolution. The men too would prefer a quick assault, and with nothing else to occupy them they would soon become restless. Azaf didn’t plan to keep them waiting long, but he was determined to guard against overconfidence. He would not be rushed.
Beyond the scouting party, the other warriors readied themselves.
The infantrymen had unsaddled their horses and left them in the care of the cart drivers. Each man now organised his personal equipment and weaponry. Apart from the distinctive loose trousers and red tunics, their basics differed little from the legionaries’. Most used swords of Roman manufacture, weapons either recently liberated or left over from the days when the Empire supplied the Palmyran armies.
Unlike their leader, most could still find a use for a good shield and, again, many were constructed along Roman lines, reinforced with crossbars and a central bronze boss. Others were of a type favoured in the East: thick, dried reeds, bound by leather, with a V-shaped bottom. Surprisingly tough, they resisted sword thrusts well, absorbing rather than deflecting blows. Then there were the traditional circular Palmyran shields: small, light, easy to wield.
The horse archers were removing all unnecessary clutter from their saddles. Like the cavalrymen, they used the four-horned variety, and would often secure their reins to the forward pair of short wooden poles when firing.