Centurion

'Get him out of here,' Thermon ordered, then turned to some more men and pointed to the slave's body. 'And remove that.'

Balthus was dragged from the chamber under the eyes of the Roman officers and the Palmyran nobles. Once he had gone, Vabathus' shoulders drooped wearily and he stepped down from the dais.

'Thermon, I am returning to my quarters. See to it that I am not disturbed.'

The chamberlain glanced awkwardly at Longinus and the Roman officers. 'But,Your Majesty, the celebrations… the banquet tonight.'

'Celebrations?'Vabathus shook his head. 'What have I to celebrate?'

He was still for a moment, then continued. 'But you are right.The celebrations must go ahead.They will not be spoiled by the absence of a grieving old man. See to it,Thermon.'

He turned and made his way to the small rear entrance to the audience chamber. The nobles bowed their heads as he passed, but Vabathus ignored them, staring down at the floor as he walked through them, disappeared through the small doorway and left them standing in silence.

Long shadows were stretching across the palace courtyard as Macro stood stiffly to attention in front of General Longinus and the Roman ambassador. The two senators were sitting at a small table drinking lemon-scented water. Behind them a slave wafted air over them with a large fan made from woven palm leaves.

Longinus lowered his cup and cleared his throat. 'So then, Centurion Macro, what is it that you want to say to us?'

'Sir, it isn't right. This business with Balthus. The man saved my neck, and those of every man in the relief column. He fought alongside us in the citadel, and that battle with the Parthians. He's a brave man,' Macro concluded with a firm nod. 'It'd be wrong to let him be killed like a dog. It ain't right, sir.'

General Longinus pursed his lips for a moment, as if in thought. 'I see. And I agree, we owe him a debt of gratitude. Under any other circumstances there would be no question of letting him go to his death like this.'

Macro felt a leaden fatalism settle on his heart at the general's words. 'What do you mean, sir? Under any other circumstances?'

Sempronius leaned forward. 'If I might explain the situation to our friend here?'

Longinus waved a hand dismissively. 'Be my guest.'

The ambassador looked at Macro and smiled sadly. 'I've no doubt that what you say about the prince is true.'

'Then why must he die?' Macro cut in stubbornly.

'Political necessity, that's why. Rome needs to make Palmyra a client kingdom. We must have that treaty, and so must Vabathus.There is no place in the new arrangement for Balthus. He cannot become the ruler of Palmyra. Balthus knows that and would scheme against his father just as Artaxes did before him, just as surely as summer follows spring.Why else would he have had his other brother killed? He was clearing his way to the throne.' Sempronius waited a moment to let his words sink in. 'I'm sorry, Centurion. There's nothing we can do about it. Prince Balthus may well have fought at your side. He may well be a brave man. But he is also ruthless and ambitious and if he was allowed to live, then there would be no peace in Palmyra. So, tomorrow morning, Prince Balthus will be executed.'

Macro felt a wave of bitterness welling up inside him and it took a great deal of self-control to bite back on his anger. He looked at the two men with contempt. 'Political necessity, you say. That's a fine euphemism, sir. From where I'm standing, it just looks like murder.'

Longinus set his cup down violently.'Now just a minute, Centurion! I've had enough of your impertinence. I've a good mind to-'

'Macro's right,' Sempronius interrupted. 'Strip away the weasel words and it's murder, plain and simple. There's no hiding that. But it changes nothing, Centurion. For the good of all, Balthus must be disposed of…'The ambassador smiled self-deprecatingly. 'He must be killed. There is no alternative. Do you understand?'

'Yes.'

'Good. Then there's one last thing.' Sempronius reached inside the bag that rested on the ground beside his stool and pulled out a folded document bearing the imperial seal. 'The imperial courier brought this with the other dispatches yesterday. It's addressed to you and Cato.'

Macro took the letter and glanced at the words under the seal. 'From Narcissus, Imperial Secretary. Bound to be bad news.'

Sempronius chuckled and after a moment Macro joined in. 'Well, I'd better read it through and find Cato.'

'Yes.' Sempronius nodded, and then smiled at some private amusement. 'I imagine you will find that remarkable young man in the king's gardens.'

'Cato! Cato! Where are you?'

Macro strode through the garden courtyards, looking round the potted shrubs and trees that were arranged around ornate colonnades and peristyles. A short distance behind him hurried Jesmiah, still in the tattered remains of her stola and cloak. Around them the cooling dusk air brought out the scent of jasmine and other herbs. The final preparations were being made for the night's banquet and many of the king's courtiers and servants were either sitting down enjoying the evening while they could or passing through the gardens on some errand or other.They stopped conversing and glanced irritably towards the bellowing Roman officer.

'Cato, where are you, damn it?'

A figure rose up from a stone bench and waved to attract Macro's attention in the failing light. 'Over here.'

'Ah! At bloody last!' Macro strode towards his friend, and drew the opened letter from Narcissus from inside his harness. 'News from Rome! Great news.'

As Macro approached the bench he saw another person sitting just beyond Cato and drew up awkwardly as he realised who it was. 'Miss Julia, sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt anything.'

'Oh, that's all right.' She beamed at him.'We've said what needed saying. Don't mind me.'

'Fair enough.' Macro turned to Cato and thrust the letter at him. 'Read that.'

'Can't it wait?' Cato replied, then cocked his head slightly to one side as he caught sight of the girl behind his friend. 'Who is this?'

Macro glanced round, and waved her forward. Jesmiah stepped up to join the others shyly. Macro placed his hand on her shoulder as he explained. 'This is Jesmiah. She and her baby brother were with us in the citadel.'

The full implication of his words was not lost on Cato, who shifted uneasily as he recalled the harsh manner in which the civilians had been forced out of the citadel.

Macro continued. 'Her family died in the revolt, and her brother followed them yesterday. He was no more than an infant and very ill during the siege. Now Jesmiah has no one to look out for her. So, I was wondering…'Macro fixed his gaze on Julia. 'A young Roman lady is always in need of good servants and companions, from what I've heard.'

'Oh really?' Julia arched an eyebrow. 'I can't imagine where you heard that.'

Macro shrugged. 'Well, anyway, I was hoping you might find a position for Jesmiah. She has nothing here in Palmyra. No family, no friends. Her house was burned to the ground and she's been living on the streets since the siege ended.' He cleared his throat. 'I can't look after her. I was hoping you could, my lady.'

Julia looked at him in amusement, and then quickly ran her gaze over the bedraggled girl. 'Very well then, I'll see to it.'

Macro's expression brightened at once. 'Thank you. I mean, I, er… thank you on the girl's behalf… Anyway.' He turned his attention to the letter in Cato's hands. 'You have to read that. Now.'

Cato glanced at the broken seal. 'Why don't you spare me the trouble and just tell me what it says?'

'Very well then, you idle sod!' Macro grinned as he slapped Cato on the shoulder. 'Narcissus has read our report and recalled us to Rome. Job's done and we're out of here. Best of all, he says we are to be given a new posting to a legion. We're to quit the army in Syria the moment it returns to Antioch and then head to the coast to take the first available ship to Ostia, and – oh, read the bloody thing for yourself.'