Centurion

'What is this?' General Longinus stepped back with a look of disgust. 'This… this man?'

The king ignored the Roman and fixed his attention on his son. 'Balthus, surely you recognise the most loyal of your slaves?'

Prince Balthus stared down at the man huddled on the ground, battered and bloodied all over, and yet still clinging on to life as the bones of his ribcage rose and fell in a fluttering rhythm. Slowly a look of horror filtered on to Balthus' face as he grasped the truth. 'Carpex,' he muttered. 'Carpex? What have you done? What have you said?'

The slave suddenly seemed to become acutely aware of his surroundings and recoiled from the voice as if he had been struck a hard blow.

'Master.' The slave's voice was little more than a hoarse whisper. 'O master, I beg for your pardon. I-'

'Silence, you slave dog!'Vabathus roared out. 'How dare you speak in the presence of your king?' He glared at Carpex as the slave shrank back with a look of terror. Vabathus nodded and gave a small sneer of satisfaction as he turned back to his son and continued. 'Balthus, this worthless scum provided us with all the answers we needed, once enough torture had been applied.This slave confirmed what I already suspected, that it was you who gave the order to kill Amethus. And that it was Carpex who carried it out.'

'Lies!' Baltus blustered. 'Lies, I tell you.' He took a step forward and kicked Carpex. 'This slave is deceiving you, Father. I had nothing to do with it. I swear by almighty Bel.'

'Quiet!' Vabathus glared at his son. 'Would you debase yourself even further by lying under oath to the city's God? Have you no honour at all?' He rose up and stabbed his finger towards the prince. 'You are no son of mine. I renounce you. A common killer and traitor is what you are, and there can only be one punishment for such crimes. Guards, seize him!'

As the mercenaries closed in on him Balthus gritted his teeth and looked round like a cornered animal. His hand dropped to the handle of his sword and he swiftly drew the blade with a quick rasp and pointed it towards the nearest of the bodyguards.

'Another step towards me and I'll gut you.'

'Put that sword down!' Vabathus ordered. 'You cannot escape.'

For a moment Balthus stared defiantly at his father, and then took a deep breath and lowered his head. The tension eased for an instant and the guards paused a moment before continuing their approach towards the prince. At that moment Balthus sprang towards Carpex and his blade glittered through the air. Even as the slave let out a terrified cry the sword cut through the bony hand he had flung up to protect himself.The finely honed edge sliced through the arm and continued on through the slave's throat and buried itself in his spine, silencing the cry. Blood spurted across the floor of the audience chamber as Carpex fell back, his head almost severed. Balthus watched with a look of contempt as the body trembled a moment and then lay still. Then he threw his sword down and made no effort to resist as the bodyguards seized him and pinned his arms behind his back.

'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.