The next major caravan would set out in four days. He would send out teams of exploratores. Initially, they could be seen to set off to the East, then cut back at night, out of sight, and patrol the west. If he sent out cavalry units with them, and they saw the robbers, he might even be able to save the caravan. And if that failed, he could send out a couple of centuries to patrol the two obvious roads to the west. If they remained out of sight until the day the caravan set off, and were far enough to the west, careless robbers might rejoin the road.
It was worth trying.
* * *
It was better than worth trying. Late on the second night, while preparing a place to sleep, one of the exploratores heard horses. Three of them crept along a ridge, and concealed themselves behind large rocks on a hillside overlooking the road below. The sound of the horses was now quite distinctive in the cold silent desert air. They watched twenty armed men pass below, riding in the general direction of where the caravan would be the following day. A rider was sent to find the cavalry unit, while the other two followed the twenty.
The following day, the twenty set themselves up to ambush the caravan, and a little further up the hill, the Roman cavalry unit set themselves up to ambush the ambushers.
Thus, when the caravan came along the road, the twenty jumped to their horses and with fearful yells rode towards the caravan. They were half way there, the caravan already beginning to panic, when the sound of a horn filled the air. The attackers turned to look behind them, to see three small cavalry units charging from the left, the right, and above. Each cavalry unit had about thirty men, so fighting it out was not much of an option. To charge the caravan would also be a poor option; caravans had guards, and although these would be no match for the attackers, they would easily hold them up long enough for the Roman cavalry to arrive.
In the end, they split up, but there was still nowhere to flee for the Romans could devote four men to every raider. Within a minute, half the would-be raiders were unhorsed, four were lying on the ground seriously wounded, one was leading a one-man charge to break free, and the rest, recognizing there was nowhere to go, surrendered.
* * *
Fifteen men, leg-roped, hands tied, were led before the Nabatean king.
"Jewish zealots, your majesty," Gaius reported. His words might have been polite and deferential, but nobody present could mistake who wielded the real power. "Their intention, it seems, was to use your kingdom as a pawn in their futile attempts to remove Rome from these lands." Gaius paused, then added, "It seems they had this hare-brained notion that Nabatea could be induced to take up arms against Rome."
"That could never happen!" the king exclaimed. Politically correct, without enthusiasm, Gaius noted.
"Of course it couldn't," Gaius replied, in a soothing tone. "The Roman senate is well aware of your friendship towards Rome, and it values that friendship very much. Which is why Caesar ordered the legion here to help you."
"And I truly value your help. Tell me," he added, "what are the plans for your legion?"
"I assume that now you know who's responsible, you can protect future caravans yourself?" Gaius asked.
"Of course." Obviously the king would be pleased to see the back of the legion.
"Then if you are satisfied that we have solved this problem," Gaius said, "the legion will return to Egypt." He paused, and added in as earnest a tone as he could manage, "We were only here because a loyal friend needed help. We most certainly would not wish to remain unless you needed us."
"Then I am most grateful," the king replied. "You will thank Caesar for me?"
"Of course," Gaius nodded.
"And what are you going to do with them?" he asked, pointing towards the prisoners.
"Nothing," Gaius replied simply.
"Nothing?" the king asked, almost in horror. "But they. ."
"They've done nothing to Rome," Gaius replied. "Their crimes were against your caravans, so you may have them to punish as you see fit. If I were you," he added, "I would make sure the punishment deterred others from attacking your caravans."
"I am sure that can be arranged," the king said with a cruel tone.
"However, before that I would be tempted to interrogate them," Gaius added. "They knew when the caravan was coming, they knew it would not have legionary protection, yet they knew the legion was in Bostra."
"A spy?" the king mused. The way his mind was working, Gaius thought, people who were not in his good books should stay out of his way for a while.
"That would be my guess," Gaius shrugged. "It's none of my business, but I would imagine you would wish to rid yourself of such a pest."
"I most certainly do! Thank you very much for your help. You're most welcome to come back any time you like."
Gaius smiled as he left. Whatever else, the king would not be sorry to see the legion leave. This king would rather have his way with his subjects, unfettered by Rome.
Chapter 37
His orders were that once the risk of a conflict with Parthia was over, the legion should return to Egypt under the temporary command of the Tribunus laticlavius while he would return to Damascus, presumably to resume his previous position.
Gaius found eating breakfast rather difficult. This was the final day of his command, and he had heard noises of the legion assembling on the on the parade ground for over an hour. The time had now come for him to make the final formal inspection and receive the salute. Although little had happened while at Bostra, the men appreciated competent resolution of a problem and he had earned some level of respect and popularity. More to the point, he had really enjoyed being in command. He had solved a problem, he had solved it very quickly, and nobody else had even imagined the actual answer. Unfortunately, while he had been extremely effective, the solution had been seriously lacking in glory. A whole legion deployed to stop twenty raiders was nothing to get excited about, not that he had deployed the legion. The problem was, that was one of those successes that simply did not count. Not that he should dwell on that. Rather reluctantly he had to admit his rightful place was still back as a Tribune.
He had just completed formal dressing when he glanced ruefully at the silver mirror. This would be his last day dressed as Legate, at least for a while. Still, there was nothing to be gained by delay and the men deserved more than to have to stand around while he was having his quiet regrets. He donned his helmet, and strode to the tent flap. As he emerged, a messenger stood there.
"A message from the Governor, sir."
Gaius frowned. Why could this not wait until he got back? Then, as he began to loosen the seal it occurred to him that he might not be going back. He opened the paper, read, smiled, then frowned, then shook his head in despair. He ordered the messenger to wait for replies.
When he reached the makeshift dais, he surprised the Tribunus Laticlavius by demanding that he speak first.
"I apologize to those who thought they would be rid of me today," he began to a surprised, if disciplined and impassive audience, "but this little ceremony will have to be delayed. I have just received orders to retain command temporarily and proceed with all speed to Jerusalem. The legion marches at first light tomorrow. Tribunes, please, to my tent. Centurions, complete preparation."
A legion did not simply get up and march, although it seemed as if it could do that. Feeding five thousand men plus auxiliaries required organization. Feeding several hundred horses in near desert conditions required more organization. The legion, however, was expecting to march in two days time hence while this order would cause a certain degree of grumbling and swearing, it could be executed readily. Even more importantly, as one of the Tribunes noted, the legion had only been there for a few weeks, and that was not long enough to accumulate the level of "necessities" that made rapid movement impossible. While the coming day might be extremely busy, there was also a certain sense of anticipation throughout the legion. A rapid forced march meant that something was going wrong, something that needed a legion to fix it.