Not long afterwards, Cassius lay across his bed with two blankets to cover him. He had kept his tunic and boots on and his belt was close by; he could move quickly if he had to. The oil lamp, now a valued companion, burned bright atop the table next to him. Next door, Serenus rested by the fire.
Cassius stared up at the shadowy recesses of the roof. He tried to recall and order the events of the day but soon found himself back in that moment where the Palmyran blade had swept down upon poor Flavian. Gruesome though it had been, some part of him valued exposure to such brutality. He hoped it might toughen him, and he knew he would face much, much worse.
Barates. Flavian. Gemellus. The first men lost under his command. He tried to summon images of their faces but they were vague and indistinct, composites of others: men from the garrison, those he had trained with, people from home.
Despite such dark thoughts, fatigue finally took its welcome course. Shortly after hearing Serenus turn the glass over, he fell asleep.
The rest of the night passed without major incident.
Cassius was awoken two hours later by Serenus. They passed Avso and Strabo on their way to the gatehouse.
In the second hour of the shift, with dawn not far away, another small volley of arrows were fired over the northern wall. The flames had already been put out by the time Cassius arrived. He waited until the men were settled back at the wall, then returned to the gatehouse.
Later, he and Serenus sat side by side on the walkway, watching the colours of dawn. First came scattered cracks of a deep, ominous red; then mottled swirls of purple and pink; and finally, etched round clusters of cloud, a striking pale yellow.
XXX
Fully armoured and refreshed from a good night’s sleep, the cavalrymen pressed their steeds along in a slow trot, the newly risen sun at their backs. With so much movement to and from the camp, a clear track had been etched in the sand. The riders were in pairs behind Bezda, who sat high in his saddle, eyes fixed on the crest.
Azaf had just passed the cart drivers leading the swordsmen’s horses back to the camp, and now he moved up past the cavalry, keeping wide of the track until he drew level with their leader. Bezda, cradling his immaculately maintained helmet in one arm, glanced sideways.
‘All went well during the night?’
‘I believe so. I left Razir in charge and he did what I asked. And your men?’
‘One lamed his mount while riding back in the dark, but nothing more serious. I see now the logic of your actions yesterday.’
‘Your men would enjoy fighting in this temperature I imagine?’
‘I too. Especially against such wearied foes.’
‘You may well get your chance.’
‘I must tell you: our water is running dangerously short, and our feed for the horses.’
‘Do not concern yourself,’ answered Azaf. ‘I doubt this will last much longer than the morning.’
Alauran was still cloaked in gloom and the clammy cold of night, and the soldiers warmed themselves with activity. Cups were filled from the water barrels and the remaining morsels of food finished off. Torches and lamps were collected up, cloaks and blankets returned to the barracks. Helmets, armour, belts and boots were checked and checked again.
The Syrian auxiliaries were split between the two houses. Four of the five Roman sections were lined up behind the carts. The only real noise came from the first section as they hammered nails into the timbers now in place across the access gap.
Serenus, Avso, Crispus and Kabir were with the men. Cassius and Strabo remained in the gatehouse, surveying the ranks of Palmyrans arranged precisely as they had been the previous day. Despite all the delays and feints, the garrison would face a straightforward frontal assault after all. Only the sentries at the other three walls were not looking east; they remained focused on their Palmyran counterparts.
Strabo was kneeling in front of the arrow slit. ‘Cavalry’s coming up.’
‘What about Avso and his staves?’ asked Cassius, crouching behind Strabo and peering over his shoulder.
‘We’ve handed them out to some of the more experienced lads. Avso found Flavian’s in the barracks. He’s been carving skulls into it all night.’
‘And the caltrops?’
‘I moved the boxes up just now. Two on either side.’
Cassius saw movement behind the southern line of archers.
‘Here they come now,’ Strabo said. ‘Purple Cloak too. Must have had a bit of a lie-in.’
Azaf handed his reins to Razir as he dismounted. He took a brief look at Alauran, then at the well-spaced lines of archers along each flank and finally at the main body of his troops. There was now a clear gap between two similarly sized sections.
‘You have divided them as I asked?’
‘Yes, strategos. Our most experienced men are at the rear. The others will go in behind the ram. Every second man has a spear. All have shields. Young Teyya understands his task.’
Azaf watched the cavalry return to their predetermined places.
‘Let us waste no more time then.’
When the cry went up, the ten men at the ram bent their backs and the wheels began to turn. As it trundled across the sand, four more moved in front and raised their shields.
‘I’ll stay here as long as I can,’ said Strabo. ‘Watch them until the last moment.’
‘Very well,’ answered Cassius. ‘I’ll check the barricades.’
Strabo gripped Cassius’ forearm.
‘Those barriers must hold. Even the smallest breach can turn a scrap like this.’ He smoothed down his hair and pulled on his helmet. ‘And keep that tuba close by.’
‘I will. And you be careful.’
‘You forget,’ said Strabo, aiming a thumb at his chest as Cassius made his way down the ladder. ‘Fortuna’s friend. I rolled my dice again at dawn — a five and a six. We might get out of this yet.’
Cassius found Minicius standing where he had left him. The signaller was chewing at his bottom lip.
‘Come on.’
The planks closest to the wall on both sides had been temporarily removed. Cassius and Minicius squeezed through on the northern side.
‘Block it up at once,’ Cassius said to two nearby legionaries.
Close to the ground and adjacent to the edge of the cart, three holes had been carved into the wall. These would accommodate short, rounded timbers to help support the carts. Once all the planks were reattached, the timbers would be slotted in. It was Avso’s idea; he had overseen an identical arrangement at the southern barricade.
Manning the positions behind the first cart were Serenus’ fourth section. The unoccupied men milled around with swords already drawn. Mounds of sand had been shovelled on to the edge of the cart to improve stability and they had a good supply of replacement timber nearby. Serenus himself was perched on the edge of a wooden box. He had armed himself with a pilum and now leaned against it, head bowed. Cassius saw that the box was full of the makeshift caltrops.
The veteran looked up.
‘The ram is on its way,’ Cassius said, drawing the attention of all the legionaries within earshot. ‘You all right?’
‘Just saving my strength,’ said Serenus with a weary smile.
Minicius took one of the caltrops out of the wooden box and dropped it on to the ground. Two of the three pairs of nails acted as legs, leaving the third facing straight up. With a nod of approval, the signaller returned the sample to the box.
Anxious to move on, Cassius next encountered Avso and the men of the fifth section. The Thracian was close to the second cart, surrounded by legionaries. He was crouching low, one arm holding his shield, the other demonstrating an upward sword thrust.
‘Like so — in amongst the groin and guts. Or like this.’
With the shield in a central defensive position, he straightened up and altered his grip. Then he reached high and stabbed downward.