The men of the first section waited patiently at the door while Serenus used a stick to light each torch in turn. The tops of the tightly bound bunches of palm branches were covered by oil-soaked goatskin. Serenus was dispatching the torch-bearers to each corner of the compound and the centre of each wall. All were issued with a spare for later on and he repeated the same orders to every legionary.
‘Don’t climb upon the wall. You are there to guard against incursions, not show the enemy where you are.’
With typical foresight, Simo had lit nine small oil lamps. Two of them were on stands inside the officers’ quarters, two in the aid post. Four more had been swiftly claimed by passing legionaries. The last one he had kept in reserve.
‘For you, sir.’
‘Well done,’ said Cassius, taking the lamp as he passed the aid post and slowing down to avoid spilling the oil. Minicius was with him, tuba in hand. Cassius had just sent the men of the third, fourth and fifth sections to the remaining three sides of the compound, with orders to space themselves out evenly, listen for any signs of movement and report any sign of attack. Strabo and his section were manning the gatehouse.
He found Serenus inside, returning the lighting stick to the fire.
‘Any change?’ asked the veteran.
‘Some movement. Nothing definite.’
‘It is odd. But if they do plan to attack under cover of night, I see no reason for them to delay. We should check the perimeter at once. Shall we start with the rear wall?’
The first legionary they came across was Vestinus, who had just arrived at the north-west corner. He was facing the wall with the torch held well away from him, listening carefully. Above them, the branches of the closest palm rustled in the dark.
‘Anything?’ asked Serenus.
‘Not so far.’
‘Let me borrow that.’
Serenus took the torch and held it high as he walked along the rear wall, examining the edge. He turned round after a few yards and returned it to Vestinus.
‘Check now and again as I did. If you see or hear anything, cry out at once.’
They continued along the western wall, passing Crispus and the third section. Serenus kept up a quick pace and stopped regularly to check the view from the firing steps. There were still no fires visible to the west but they had agreed that the rear wall must remain as well guarded as the others.
The camels snorted and shifted in their stables as the trio started along the southern wall. Then the horses began to whinny and pace.
‘They share our disquiet,’ said Cassius.
‘Perhaps,’ answered Serenus. ‘Legionary, if I hear that tuba scrape on the ground one more time, I’m going to make you carry it above your head one-handed.’
‘Yes, sir,’ replied Minicius.
Halfway along the southern wall they encountered another torch-bearer.
‘Anything?’
Before the sentry could answer, a cry went up.
‘Over here!’
‘The north wall!’ yelled Serenus.
They ran round the front of the granary and across the square. Wishing he could get rid of the lamp, Cassius heard the pounding of feet to his right. Half a dozen Syrians appeared, torches held high, wavering light glinting off their blades.
‘Look out!’ someone shouted. One of the Syrians pointed into the air.
Three flaming arrows had just reached the apex of their flight and were dropping towards them.
Luckily, they had been fired so high that the defenders had time to get out of the way. Two landed harmlessly in the dust, another embedded itself in the wall of the closest house. One of Kabir’s men plucked it out of the clay then snuffed out the flame with his boot.
Cassius caught up with Serenus just as he climbed up on to the nearest firing step. Wheezing, the veteran raised his head above the northern wall.
Three more legionaries arrived.
‘Started just now, sir,’ said one.
More orange flashes streamed into the sky. Serenus half fell off the step, landing heavily next to Cassius.
‘Many torches. Moving,’ he announced as Cassius helped him to his feet. ‘They may be closing in.’
At least ten flaming arrows had landed inside the compound. The legionaries set about extinguishing all those they could reach. Several had hit the barracks. Serenus requisitioned a torch from one legionary and sent him there at once.
‘Quickly! There are barrels there if you need them.’
Kabir could also be heard shouting orders as his men rushed inside the dwellings. Though grateful for his help, Cassius was confident fire would not quickly take hold there; the rooms had been emptied and the parched clay brick would not burn easily on its own.
Once more holding the torch high, Serenus led Cassius and Minicius east along the northern wall. They walked slowly, listening carefully for any suggestion of advance. Shapes appeared, moved and disappeared to their right as the Syrians made their way through the houses.
Serenus paused as they neared what had once been the marketplace. Cassius spied the torch-bearer at the corner and saw a faint glow within the doorway of the northern tower. He wondered what Strabo had seen of the attack.
Serenus turned and retraced his steps. As he swapped the torch from one hand to the other, a burning twig landed on Cassius’ arm. Shaking it off, he managed to flick oil out of the lamp on to his wrist, barely stifling a yelp.
The veteran hurried on. They drew level with the barracks. A legionary leaned out of a window and dropped two blackened arrows into the dust. Cassius bent down and examined one. There was no metal or stone at the point. The wooden shaft had been sharpened and the top half wrapped tight with cloth soaked with something flammable.
He caught up with Serenus again. Even in the dim glow of the torch, he could see the variation in colour and texture over the area of wall repaired by Strabo’s section. Serenus stopped. Cassius shut his eyes, trying to pick up any noise from beyond the wall. Only when he heard a pained cough from Serenus and opened his eyes did he realise why the veteran had halted. The light from the lamp illuminated Serenus’ mail shirt, now stained with saliva and blood. He tried to speak but produced only a rasping sound.
Cassius quickly placed the lamp on the ground and took charge of the torch. Serenus wiped his chin and put his other hand against his chest.
‘Here.’
Cassius helped Serenus sit down on a nearby barrel.
‘We must-’
‘Don’t talk. Wait here a moment.’
Cassius jogged round to the side window of the officers’ quarters. Simo wasn’t there. He reached through the window and down to the floor; to where he knew the Gaul kept his canteen. As his fingers found it, the fire flickered: a large figure had entered the room.
‘Ah, Simo-’
It was in fact Strabo, torch in one hand, pilum in the other.
‘What’s going on?’ the Sicilian demanded.
‘Fire arrows were shot over the northern wall. Serenus is ailing.’
‘I’ll come round.’
Taking the canteen with him, Cassius called over to the nearest man at the wall and passed him the torch. It turned out to be a young legionary named Priscus. Cassius had noticed him around because, though tall and well built, Priscus was quite possibly the meekest soldier he had come across. He assumed this was at least partly due to the lurid maroon birth mark that covered half his face. The youngster bit nervously at his lip while he listened.
‘Here. I want you to check the entire perimeter. Report back-’
‘Leave that to me,’ said Strabo as he arrived.
‘Very well. Anything to the east?’
‘Nothing new.’
‘Come on,’ Strabo said to Priscus.
The two of them receded into the darkness towards the temple. Cassius blinked as his eyes readjusted. He hurried back round the barracks to Serenus and passed him the canteen. The veteran drank heartily, then let out a long breath.