‘Let it go.’
Teyya opened the door and tilted the cage. The bird slid out and dropped on to the saddle between his legs. The young warrior had already attached a short piece of light twine to one leg and he now tied this to a longer piece looped round his arm. Passing the cage to Razir and freeing the twine, he cupped the bird in both hands then launched it into the sky.
The bird zigzagged away then tried to fly higher. Pulled short by the twine, it struggled for a moment, then landed awkwardly in front of them.
Azaf let out a tired breath. He leaned forward and ran a hand along his horse’s neck.
Kabir had summoned ten of his men. They all had their slings loaded and ready.
‘It’s going higher,’ said Strabo dourly.
Cassius could barely make out the minuscule shape in the sun’s glow.
‘Won’t hit it now,’ said Minicius. ‘Must be forty yards up.’
Cassius made his way through the legionaries to where Kabir was standing, turning this way and that, determined not to lose sight of the bird.
‘Shouldn’t you try now? Before it gets any further away.’
The bird swooped down again then sped away to the east.
Before Kabir yelled the command, the slingers were already firing. Cassius didn’t see a single stone in motion, only the bird climbing higher as it passed over the dwellings.
Everyone chased after it. Two legionaries, eyes fixed on the sky, collided and fell. Cassius vaulted over them, then looked up just as the bird approached the eastern wall. It suddenly lurched to one side, then dropped out of the sky. A cry went up but there was no way to tell if it had landed inside or outside the wall.
‘Somebody knows what they’re doing!’ said Strabo, running alongside Cassius as they followed Kabir into the encampment. The awnings had now been taken down and all possessions and equipment moved inside the dwellings. A crowd had formed next to a section of wall near the gatehouse. The rest of the Syrians were there, and the main mass of legionaries. As their leader approached, the Syrians murmured to each other and moved dutifully out of the way.
‘Who else?’ said Kabir, glancing over his shoulder with a broad grin.
Emerging from the crowd, both hands proffered before him, was Idan. There was no trace of triumph upon his disfigured face, only a cold calm. In his left hand was the lifeless yet unblemished body of the bird. In his right hand was an unfolded square of papyrus.
Teyya, Razir and the other warriors watched the other bird in stunned silence. The twine had broken and it now circled high above them, perplexed by the demise of its mate.
Azaf coaxed his horse forward and guided it along the line of waiting men. Picking out three riders, he dispatched them to keep watch on the southern, western and northern walls. As they departed, he brought his mount to a halt and addressed the rest of the warriors.
‘Dismount and mark a clear line in the sand just ahead of our position. The others will be here soon.’
XXV
After a while, calm returned to Alauran. Then, as the afternoon wore on, it was succeeded by an oppressive air of tension that hung heavily over the compound, suffused with the sapping heat.
Serenus had warned Cassius that some of the men might vent their wrath on the spy’s body and the veteran came up with a simple solution: he and three other men disposed of it over the western wall. The legionaries were now gathered in small groups in the shade, fiddling with their equipment and finishing off the food. With the exception of Kabir, who had joined Strabo and Serenus in the gatehouse, the Syrians were back at the dwellings.
Cassius had taken a brief look at the papyrus note before entrusting it to Strabo. His conscience then led him swiftly to Julius, whom he found still sitting on the stool, drawing shapes in the sand with his finger. Cassius had no idea how much he had seen or understood. The boy looked up as he approached. Cassius knelt down on one knee so that their faces were at the same height.
‘We know now. We know you did nothing wrong.’
Julius looked wistfully across the square.
‘I’m sorry for doubting you. Do you see? I’m sorry.’
Julius stood and walked inside the aid post, head bowed.
Simo met Cassius at the doorway.
‘It’s true, sir? That man had hidden himself in there for weeks?’
‘Apparently. If anyone had taken the time to listen to the boy, he might have been discovered sooner.’
Behind Simo, Cassius could see Julius standing solemnly over Barates’ body once again.
‘He has been ill-used.’
‘He may have faired a good deal worse without your intervention, sir.’
‘Perhaps.’
Cassius thought of how he had earlier treated the boy, in that very same spot. The least he could do now was try to protect him from the impending battle.
‘I’m placing him in your care, Simo. He will act as your assistant. Keep him occupied. And put this in the chest, would you?’
Cassius handed over the coin-filled purse.
‘Of course, sir.’
Not for the first time, Cassius was struck by, and grateful for, Simo’s even temper and composure. Just weeks earlier he had been the respected attendant of a wealthy merchant in Antioch. Now he was stuck at this forsaken fort, facing imminent attack.
‘I’m afraid you may be in for a busy afternoon, Simo.’
‘I’ll be ready, sir. Perhaps you should put your armour on.’
‘Yes. Come on.’
Once inside the officers’ quarters, Cassius removed both his belts. He lowered the whole arrangement on to the desk, then ran his sword blade back and forth into the scabbard a few times. He didn’t want it to get stuck again.
Simo returned from the bedroom, laden down with not only the mail, but also the padded sleeveless shirt worn underneath. It too was an expensive but essential acquisition. The double layer of metal at the shoulders felt like a pair of anvils when in place, but the undershirt also prevented the mail being driven into the flesh if struck. Though grateful for the protection, Cassius had no idea how long he would be able to move in such heat.
He quickly pulled the undershirt on and watched Simo tie the leather straps that would keep it in place. He then raised his arms, allowing the Gaul to lower the mail shirt on to his shoulders. Simo strained to lift the armour high, so Cassius hunched down to help him. The weight never ceased to surprise him.
‘It’s lucky I don’t have to march very far.’
Simo pulled at the shirt until it hung correctly.
‘How’s that, sir?’
‘Fine.’
As Simo took hold of his belt, Cassius looked down at his exposed forearms, wincing as he imagined a sword carving its way through the unprotected flesh. He had seen arm guards on other legionaries but doubted he would be able even to raise his sword, let alone swing it, with yet more weight to bear.
Simo pulled the belt tight. When correctly tied, it took a surprising proportion of the mail’s weight off the shoulders.
‘And that?’
‘Fine.’
Simo secured the buckle and took one last look at his handiwork.
‘Thank you, Simo.’
The Gaul looked confused, unused to statements of gratitude. Cassius’ father had told him never to thank slaves for doing their work. Generally Cassius followed the advice, and believed it to be wise, but he felt the situation was exceptional.
‘Not just for this,’ he added, tapping the armour. ‘For what you’ve done, these last weeks. A good many men in your position might have taken the earliest opportunity to stick a knife in my back. You’ve certainly little to thank me for.’
‘Well at least I’ve seen a little more of the province, sir,’ Simo said with an awkward half-smile.
‘There is that.’ Cassius put his hand through his sword belt as Simo hung it on his shoulder. ‘I am frightened, Simo. Truly.’
‘I too, sir,’ Simo said as he adjusted the belt, ‘and every man out there I’m sure.’