Cassius found the men in good order, arranged once more in their five sections, facing the gatehouse. Lined up in front of it were Strabo, Serenus, Avso and Crispus. Kabir looked on from the dwelling rooftop.
‘Quiet there!’ snapped Serenus, pointing at men from his own section. Coughing hard, he turned away and pulled the cloth from his tunic.
Cassius stopped next to Strabo. It was important to convey the impression that the argument over Julius was now settled.
All the legionaries had their helmets strapped on and most were now protected by either cuirass or mail shirt. Some had even found time to add graffiti to their shield covers. Painted in white or yellow, the slogans boasted of the strength of the Third Legion, invoked the spirit of Caesar or cast insults at the Palmyrans and their queen. The narrow metal necks of a few pila could be seen, their barbed peaks a foot above the tallest man.
Strabo turned towards Cassius.
‘I’m assuming we’ll be allowed to prepare ourselves at some point.’
The section leaders were, like Cassius, still in their tunics and armed only with their daggers and swords.
‘Of course,’ he replied, glad that Strabo had calmed down. He was becoming used to the Sicilian’s outbursts and ever-changing moods.
Crispus spoke up: ‘Sir, Statius reports that Antonius will be here soon.’
‘Good,’ answered Cassius. He was about to begin his address but Crispus continued.
‘He may arrive during the briefing, sir.’
‘Yes?’
Then Cassius realised what he was getting at. Antonius would be in an excitable, perhaps even panicked state. Better to intercept him outside than allow him to rush in and tell the entire garrison what he’d seen.
‘Stay at the gate. Fetch me when he’s near.’
‘Sir.’
Cassius took a moment to compose himself. His gaze fell upon a face in the second line: the man who had taken hold of Julius and been struck by Strabo.
‘Your name, legionary?’
‘Macrinus, sir.’
Portly and cursed with rather porcine features, Macrinus now stood stiffly, obviously expecting a reprimand.
‘Report to me after briefing.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Eyes front!’ shouted Strabo as other legionaries turned to look at Macrinus.
Wishing he’d brought his canteen, Cassius cleared his throat and began.
‘Legionaries, I spoke in the square of the preparations we have made, the measures we have taken to defend this fort. The principles of discipline and unity have served our army well for a thousand years, and if we hold true to them, they will serve us well again.’ Cassius forced himself to look squarely into the eyes of those he addressed. The words came a little easier now. ‘The Emperor expects your best. As does General Navio. As do I. Time is short. Listen carefully to what you are told. Your lives, our lives, depend on it.’
He gestured to his left.
‘Serenus.’
‘We are few. But the centurion is quite right when he speaks of organisation and discipline. Each of you is part of a section and each section has its job. Behind me is the gate — you can see that we have removed the reinforcements. Our intention is to invite the enemy to strike here; our primary scheme centres on a frontal assault.’
Serenus was speaking quietly, taking care not to strain his voice. Cassius looked round to see if anyone had water. A legionary in the front row had a small canteen hanging from his belt.
‘Their archers will be able to keep our heads down and we don’t have bows or enough javelins to compete at range. We will only man the rest of the walls in the event of a ladder assault. Otherwise, only lookouts will be posted. It is crucial that they know as little of our numbers and readiness as possible. Our Syrian friends have their orders, leave them to carry them out.’
Cassius looked up at the rooftop: Kabir was listening carefully, arms crossed.
Serenus swept a hand back and forth.
‘We will concentrate our numbers here, in a defensive cordon behind the carts. Second and third sections to my left, fourth and fifth to my right. First section is our reserve. Whatever comes through the gate we stop. This barrier must hold. We have to assume they will number in the hundreds. A breakthrough here will allow the rest of them to pile in, then they can bring their advantage to bear. If there is a big breach, every man should fall back to the square. We will defend the standard but our final redoubt will be the barracks.’
Serenus stopped.
‘A moment,’ he said after a while, his voice hoarse.
Cassius clicked a finger at the legionary with the water, who duly offered his canteen to Serenus.
‘On that subject,’ Strabo interjected swiftly, ‘if it comes to it, we will block the barracks door and man the windows — should make for quite a little fort. Injured should report firstly to the aid post, then the barracks if they can walk.’
Serenus drank heartily, then spat several times into the dirt.
‘By the way,’ Strabo continued, ‘when I say injury, I expect to see either a big red hole in you or something hanging off. A stubbed toe doesn’t count, right Macrinus?’
The legionary did his best to ignore the laughter.
Serenus continued: ‘There are three other methods the Palmyrans may use. First, ladders. Sections two to five will cover a wall each.’
A legionary in the third line raised his hand.
‘Questions can wait until I’ve finished.’
The hand disappeared.
‘Second section has the east wall, third has the south, fourth has the west, fifth has the north. We’ll use the firing steps, cut them down as they come over. Again, if we’re overrun, retreat will be sounded and all must return to the square. Next, these walls might look thick, but they’re weak. With the archers’ cover they might try to mine us out — dig under them, cause a collapse, or simply knock through. There’s little we can do about that, except be ready for them.’
Serenus paused for a moment. They could hear the thud of hooves. Antonius was close.
‘Last of all — fire. We have a good store of water and plenty of full barrels. But don’t allow yourselves to get distracted by a few flames. There’s little wind at the moment and the buildings are well spaced; if they do catch alight we may just have to let a few burn. Now, questions. You first.’
Cassius didn’t hear it. He and Crispus had already slipped out of the gate to meet Antonius.
Tugging back on the reins, the sentry brought his ungainly steed to a stop. The wild-eyed camel was breathing hard, its thick pink tongue hanging out at an unlikely angle. Overbalancing as he dismounted, Antonius was helped to his feet by Crispus.
Cassius looked east, half expecting to be faced by a line of warriors charging towards Alauran, but there was nothing.
‘Well? What have you seen, man?’
‘Palmyrans for sure. I waited as long as I could. They stopped two or three miles east of the crest.’ Antonius rubbed at a bloodshot eye with his thumb. ‘Damned sand.’
‘How many would you say?’ asked Cassius impatiently. So much depended on Antonius’ answer.
‘Three, four hundred.’
Cassius winced.
Antonius nodded at the gate.
‘Can I?’
Cassius moved aside and Antonius trudged off, towing the camel. Cassius turned back towards the plain. If the higher figure proved accurate, they faced odds of five to one.
‘Not all warriors perhaps,’ offered Crispus.
‘Ever the optimist, eh?’
Crispus shrugged. As the two of them walked back towards the gate, Cassius realised he’d been stupid to allow Antonius past. He ran after him, warily rounded the camel and gripped the legionary by the shoulder.
‘There’s a briefing going on in there — wait here a moment. The men are sure to ask what you’ve seen. You tell them the enemy were too distant to count. Do not repeat the number you gave me. Is that clear?’
Antonius had been frowning as Cassius spoke and he replied with only a taciturn nod.