Gallus strode amongst them, seeking and then swallowing each of the seething words that seemed to come to his taut lips. Pavo gulped.
At that moment, the haggard man stepped forward. ‘Ah, Gallus, I can see that your men have already introduced themselves to my century.’
Pavo shared a frown with Sura, then looked to Baptista.
Baptista and his sentries beheld the men of the Claudia in return.
‘Optio Baptista of the XVI Flavia Firma is my finest man,’ the haggard one confirmed. ‘He and the rest of my century will make a fine escort for our mission.’
Every man in the room adopted a look of utter disgust.
XI Claudia and XVI Flavia Firma legionaries clustered around the benches of the wrecked tavern, muttering as they tended to their wounds and offered muted and somewhat forced apologies. The noise faded into the background as Pavo stared across the bench. This weather-beaten, crooked-shouldered centurion sitting opposite had introduced himself as Carbo. The merriness was gone, memories of the brawl were fading and he felt the bruises only as a dull and distant throb. Even Gallus’ caustic reproach to the brawling legionaries and then his briefing on their mission seemed secondary. Yes, they were to march through the burning heart of the Syrian Desert hunting some lost scroll. But that mattered little. Because Carbo’s last words echoed in his ears like thunder.
‘Lad, are you alright?’ Carbo frowned, stroking at his white beard. ‘Take a blow to the head, did you?’
‘You said. . Legio II Parthica?’ Pavo stammered.
Carbo sat a little taller at the mention. ‘Aye, my legion,’ he pulled up the short sleeve of his tunic to reveal a faded legionary stigma. Under it was the outline of a centaur — the emblem of the legion. But the pride on his face faded. ‘Until they were butchered at Bezabde.’
Pavo’s heart lurched at this. ‘But not all of the Parthica were slain. I heard that someone in the east came back, someone. . ’ Pavo’s skin tingled in realisation. ‘You?’
Carbo shrugged. ‘Aye, it would have been me. Nobody seemed to know that there were survivors until I staggered into this city and spoke of it.’
Pavo’s thoughts raced in a hundred different directions. ‘The mines, were you in the salt mines?’
Carbo seemed guarded at this and avoided Pavo’s gaze. ‘I was.’
‘What of the others?’
‘Of the Parthica?’ Carbo frowned. ‘Lad, what is it you’re after?’
‘Falco,’ Pavo said, hearing his own words as if from a dream. ‘Mettius Vitellius Falco.’
Carbo gazed back at him emptily and Pavo felt all hope dying. But at last the centurion’s cracked and haggard features bent into a vague smile. ‘A stubborn and brave whoreson. Aye, of course I remember Falco — he was a good friend. The kind of friend who would stand by your side, through anything,’ he fell silent, as if reliving some memory. ‘How do you. . ’
Pavo cut him off, pulling his phalera medallion from his collar. ‘I am his son.’
Carbo’s eyes widened and he sat back. ‘Falco’s boy?’
‘I think of him every day. I thought him dead since Bezabde. Did he. .?’
Carbo held Pavo’s gaze. His features were grave, his eyes troubled.
The blood pounded in Pavo’s ears like a war drum.
‘On that last day when Bezabde fell, he was on the walls, roaring like a lion. Legionaries lay dead and dying around him, many took to fleeing through the streets, hoping to escape through the far gates. Not Falco. He fought on. . and he survived.’
Pavo’s limbs quivered at these words. ‘He’s alive?’
Carbo failed to hold Pavo’s gaze. ‘I pray to all the gods, no, for he was chained and sent to the mines with me. Dalaki — in the heart of the Persis Satrapy. And more than ten years have passed since I left those accursed caves. Few men live more than a handful of years in that airless and dark realm and nobody escapes. Nobody.’
‘But you did? So maybe. . ’ Pavo fired back.
‘I did not escape,’ Carbo cut him off swiftly, his eyes dropping to the left and searching over a crack in the flagstones. ‘I was freed from the mines when a Persian noble bought me — to serve as a household slave. . ’
Pavo’s thoughts swirled and Carbo’s words faded into the background noise. His gaze darted across the scarred surface of the bench as he considered the possibilities. He thought of the nightmare, of Father, haggard and gaunt, lost in the sands of the desert. A shiver marched up his spine like a legion of shades. ‘But he was alive?’
Carbo looked at him. An odd look, as if judging him. ‘Trouble yourself with this mission alone, lad. To comb the lands of the Persis Satrapy for this lost scroll — that is a forlorn hope indeed. Do not burden yourself with another such.’
Pavo tilted his head to one side. ‘Aye, it’s the slimmest of hopes, but I will seize it. My shoulders have broadened much in these past few years. I am not afraid. I will never give up. Even if only to find Father’s bones.’
Carbo searched his eyes, then offered him a pensive smile. ‘You are truly Falco’s son, Pavo.’
Just then, Felix came over. ‘Carbo,’ he beckoned, ‘Gallus wants to talk over the route with you once more before we head back to the barracks,’ he scratched at his forked beard with a sigh, ‘for some long overdue sleep.’
Carbo offered Pavo a curt nod, then left to talk with Tribunus Gallus.
Pavo stared into a cup of water for what felt like an eternity. It took a howl from Noster the legionary to stir him from his thoughts. He glanced around the tavern. At the nearest bench, Quadratus dabbed at his bloodied cheek with a water-dampened linen rag. Sura rubbed at his bruised throat and gulped at a cup of cool water. Zosimus tended to Noster’s sprained wrist, fixing a splint to the young legionary’s arm and telling him in no uncertain terms how soft he was for being unable to withstand a bit of pain. Baptista’s men grumbled and groaned likewise on the other side of the tavern, casting regular baleful glances at the men of the XI Claudia who were to be their marching comrades.
‘Optio?’ A voice spoke.
Pavo twisted round to see Yabet offering him a fresh cup of water. He accepted, then made space for the short, grubby guide to sit beside him. He brought with him a faint waft of ‘ripe’ mushrooms.
‘You have marched in the desert before?’ Yabet asked.
‘I’ve marched in the snow, on the dirt, in the mud, through the tall grass of home. But no, the desert will be new to me.’
‘Ah,’ Yabet cackled, ‘then you do not yet know how to march.’
Pavo found the little man’s grin infectious. ‘How many days will we be out there, before we reach the Satrapy of Persis?’
Yabet scratched his unshaven jaw and pulled his brown Phrygian cap back from his forehead. ‘It depends entirely on what we come across.’ He looked off through the open door and into the tiny patch of the star-speckled night sky visible outside. ‘Forty days or more, I would say.’
Pavo cocked an eyebrow. Now that was a march. ‘Just as the desert is new to me, the Persian ranks are too. I have heard one word mentioned a lot in hushed tones — here and in the barracks we are billeted. . the Sav — ’
‘The Savaran,’ Yabet finished for him, a sober look erasing his grin. ‘Those riders are like nothing you will have faced before. Some call them the iron centaurs. They are nimble, near-invincible. . and deadly. They harness tusked beasts many times the size of the largest mount.’ He swept his hands out as if to encompass all before him, ‘then stoke these creatures into a fury and drive them into their enemy’s lines, trampling soldiers underfoot like ants. But these riders and great creatures might never trouble you. I’ve heard of hardy legionaries out there who have perished without ever coming near a Persian lance. The sands that separate us from the Persian Empire are deadlier than any blade and more formidable than the tallest of walls.’
Pavo raised both eyebrows, quite unsure what to say.
‘But I will be by your side,’ Yabet said and tapped a finger to his temple, his canny grin returning. ‘I know where the water lies in that dry land. It is as my mother used to say; don’t enter the desert unless you have a camel or an Iberian guide,’ he said, gesturing to himself. Then he nudged Pavo. ‘I am not a camel, by the way.’ With that, Yabet winked, slapped him on the shoulder then left to introduce himself to the others.