Centurion

'Very accommodating of them,' said Macro.

'I suppose so, but I imagine it's mainly because Balthus has his eye on her.'

'Really?' Macro looked at Cato and raised an eyebrow. 'That's understandable enough, sir. She's a lovely-looking young woman. Any man in his right senses would be proud to have her as his wife.'

Cato glared furiously at his friend, while Sempronius frowned and said with evident sadness, 'I just wish her former husband had shared your sentiments. Anyway, the prince seems to like her well enough, which is useful.'

'Useful?' Cato was surprised by the odd choice of word.

'Of course. Right now I value any influence that I can get over Balthus, or any of these people. So please, think like diplomats tonight, and not like…'

'Soldiers?' Macro suggested.

Sempronius nodded. 'If you wouldn't mind. For the sake of the Empire.'

'In that case,' Macro assumed a thoughtful expression, 'I suppose I might try to avoid any behaviour that could cause a scandal, although I can't speak for my friend Cato. He's the one you should keep an eye on.'

'Really?' Sempronius looked at Cato with raised eyebrows.

'Ignore him,' Cato muttered. 'Just ignore him.'

Thermon rapped his staff on the ground and the conversation died abruptly as the Palmyran nobles turned towards the entrance to the roof garden and bowed their heads. Sempronius gestured to his companions to do the same. After a moment's stillness, King Vabathus came striding through the doorway. He swept through the small crowd of guests and eased himself down on to the royal couch. Thermon waited for his master to settle and then rapped his staff again.

'All may be seated!'

The guests hurriedly took up their places and a low hubbub of conversation slowly swelled to a more comfortable volume. Macro and Cato, lying on their couches to the right of the king, kept quiet, waiting to be addressed by him.Vabathus regarded them for a moment and then cleared his throat.

'We owe you our gratitude, Romans, for the fine defence of the citadel gates this morning.'

Macro bowed his head. 'Thank you, sir, but we were just doing our duty.'

The king gestured towards Macro's arms. 'You are wounded?'

Macro shook his head. 'Just some burns, sir. They'll heal in a few days.'

'I see.' The king glanced past Macro to address Cato. 'And you?'

'Your Majesty?'

'Are you wounded?'

'No,Your Majesty. Not today.'

'Ah.' The king nodded and turned away with a dull expression to stare out over the wall, towards the oasis. The molten glow of the sun barely rimmed the horizon and long shadows spilled across the sand and the dark green fronds of the palm trees. Macro waited a little longer, in case there was any further remark from the king, and then he turned to Cato with a subtle shake of his head. But Cato was already looking the other way. Julia was lying beside her father and Cato was pleased that she was temporarily parted from Prince Balthus.

'So tell me, Prefect.' Sempronius spoke just loudly enough in Greek for the other guests to hear. 'How much of a fight did the rebels put up?'

Cato could not help a small smile as he considered the staged question and he made sure that his reply was equally audible. 'The majority of them are little more than a rabble, an armed mob. We have nothing to fear from them. Apart from that, I'm sure we can deal with Prince Artaxes' regular soldiers if they have the stomach for another fight. But I doubt they'll trouble us for a few days yet.'

Sempronius nodded sagely. 'And by then, I imagine General Longinus will be approaching the city with his legions.'

'I should think so, sir.'

'Good.Then we're saved.' Sempronius turned to face the king's chamberlain, who was standing a short distance in front of his master's table, his post for the night as he oversaw the timing and announcement of each course.The two men exchanged a slight nod and Thermon rapped his staff and called out towards a small side door on to the garden. At once a steady stream of slaves spilled out carrying platters of food.The king was served with a large selection first and he began to pick at some meat dainties. Then the rest of the guests were presented with a somewhat less generous range of dishes. Macro propped himself up on his elbows and looked over the offerings before him.

'Horsemeat sausage, horse steaks, horse cutlets in honey…' He forced a smile and raised his voice. 'Best rations I've had in months.' He paused as he saw a small bowl of what looked like a curious white fibrous fruit. He turned to Sempronius. 'Sir, excuse me. Do you know what those are?'

'Those?' The ambassador glanced at the bowl and smiled slightly. 'Why of course I do. That's a local delicacy, Centurion. You should really give them a try. And remember, always use the right hand,' he added as Macro leaned forward.

'Delicacy, eh?' Macro grinned. 'My favourite kind of food.'

He reached over and plucked one out of the bowl. As he withdrew his hand and examined the object in his fingers his expression froze. 'It looks like an eye.'

'It is. A sheep's eye to be precise.'

'Sheep's eye? Good Gods! What kind of delicacy is that?'

'One that you must try,' Sempronius insisted. 'And you too, Prefect, if you don't want to mortally offend our hosts.'

'What?' Cato looked horrified. But there was an earnest expression of compulsion from the ambassador. Even so, Cato shook his head. 'I can't.'

Despite his reservations of a moment earlier, Macro was amused by his friend's squeamishness. He leaned forward again and picked out another eye. 'Here, this one looks nice and juicy.' He held it out to Cato, who tried not to shrink away too obviously.Then Cato became aware that the other guests were looking at him expectantly, and reluctantly accepted the offering. Macro watched him with amusement for a moment and then winked.

'Bottoms up!'With one swift movement Macro popped the eye he still held into his mouth and made a brief chewing motion before he swallowed and smacked his lips. 'Delicious.'

Cato felt sick, but dared not refuse for fear of causing offence. He swallowed nervously, and with a last quick battle against his stomach's inclination to retch raised the eye to his lips and pressed it into his mouth. The tough muscle tissue surrounding the eyeball was slimy and tasted vaguely of vinegar. He tested the texture with his teeth and it was as unyielding and chewy as he had feared. Summoning up all his courage, he forced the eye to the back of his mouth and swallowed.

The guests cheered and grinned at him, some holding up eyes for him to see, as if they were making a toast, before they ate them. Cato snatched at the goblet of wine that had been poured for him and took a big mouthful, swilling it round his teeth and gums to eradicate any hint of flavour left behind.

'Well done.'

Cato turned and saw Julia nodding at him. He forced a smile in return and replied in Latin,'Not so bad once you've tried it.'

'If you say so. Now try some of the sweetmeats. They'll help take your mind off it.'

As the guests settled down to eating their banquet, while continuing to talk in an animated fashion, Cato turned his attention briefly away from Julia to glance at the two princes sitting side by side, but not speaking, nor even willing to meet each other's gaze. It had been a mistake to seat them next to each other, Cato decided. The king's chamberlain had obviously hoped for a display of solidarity before the guests, but it was clear for all to see – the two brothers positively despised each other.

Macro had followed his friend's gaze and guessed his thoughts precisely. 'So much for unity,' he said softly. 'I fear we're going to be fighting on two fronts before too long.'