'All in all, a good morning's work,' the centurion said to his second-in-command.
'Just so, Dominus,' replied the optio. 'Three freedmen of a hostis arrested, four deserters apprehended and, to come, the gratitude of a member of the Boule whose son we will return.'
'Take them away.' The high country north of Edessa going up to the Euphrates and Samosata all looks much the same. But Ballista knew where he was as soon as he saw the lone pike standing stark on the horizon.
They had been riding hard all day. Two or three times, Persian patrols had closed to investigate. They had veered away, no explanation necessary, when they saw the golden ornaments on the bridle of the Sassanid officer's horse. No easterner in his right mind would interfere with a man going about the business of the King of Kings.
Now, the sun was low. Elongated shadows stretched out as they rode up to the crest. Tired and sore, Ballista composed himself in preparation for what he was about to see. It was not chance that the Sassanids had led them this way. Ballista halted his mount and looked up.
Turpio was just recognizable. Birds had pecked out his eyes; some of the flesh on his face was gone. Being impaled on the pike had prevented the scavengers of the earth reaching his head. What remained was barely corrupt. Although it seemed an age, it had only been five days. Ballista looked at his friend. Don't cry Over the happy dead But weep for those who dread To die.
The Persian officer broke into Ballista's thoughts. 'It was the will of Mazda.' Garshasp was also looking up at the grisly thing on the pike. 'I saw him die. Your friend died well.'
'He never lacked courage. Once, at Arete, he came this close' – Ballista snapped his fingers – 'to killing your king. As you say, the will of the gods.'
'When I was commanded to bring you this way,' Garshasp continued, 'I was told you were not to bury him. I am sorry.'
'Thank you. I would have done, even though the burial rites of Romans like him are not those of my people. We often burn our dead warriors.'
Garshasp grunted. 'Let us move on. It would be best to camp beyond the battlefield.'
Even in shadow, the valley of tears was a horrible sight. The tidal wave of war had swept its debris across its length. Everywhere were strewn discarded, hacked shields, bent and broken swords, the snapped shafts of arrows and, everywhere, the corpses of men and beasts. Here they lay in ones and twos. There, to the right, leading to the isolated hill rising from the floor of the valley, a thick carpet of them, where the Sassanid cavalry had broken Legio VI Gallicana. Another hideous pile on the slopes, where those too wounded to walk had been killed after the surrender.
The horses, unnerved by the scent of death, placed their hooves nervously amidst the carnage. A vulture, too gorged to fly, waddled off a bloated corpse. Some of the dead were more decayed than others. Ballista half remembered Turpio telling him it was all to do with climate and diet; damp westerners rot more quickly than desiccated men from the east.
They rode on after the sun had gone down. Garshasp was evidently as keen as the others to put some distance between them and the dead. Eventually, he called a halt.
Their new status as envoys had brought temporary eastern servants for Ballista and Cledonius. The two Roman officers sat on the ground and watched their horses being groomed and their tents erected. The sharp north wind made the latter tricky; sudden gusts flicked leather sheets aside, coiled guy ropes around limbs.
Cledonius sent away the youth who would have seen to Ballista's dressings. By the guttering torchlight, Cledonius did it himself. The ab Admissionibus had been kept by Valerian's side and had thus been spared some of the hardship of the march. Now, his long, thin face was close to the northerner; his hands worked deftly. They talked together softly in Latin.
'Ballista, it is – what? – over twenty years since you came into the imperium as a hostage for the good behaviour of your father's tribe – not that it has always curbed the inherent ferocity of you Angles. Anyway, you have spent more than half your life, not just in the imperium, but connected to the imperial court, and at times you are as naive as the day you emerged out of your damp northern forests.' Cledonius smiled affectionately. 'Of course Valerian knows that Macrianus loathes us – although I would say rather more you than me. I have never punched one of his sons in the balls.'
'So Valerian wants our embassy to fail?'
Cledonius shook his head in mock-wonder at Ballista's obtuseness. 'That is the general idea. Thanks to you, Valerian knows he was betrayed by Macrianus. But only a few know it. And those now within the imperium might find it hard to be believed. So Valerian has created a public spectacle where the lame one must break his oath to value the safety of the emperor above everything. At the very least, such despicable lack of loyalty and flagrant disregard of the gods will give a very poor start to Macrianus's campaign if he intends to elevate his odious sons to the throne. At best, it gives Gallienus in the west a just cause for war: revenge on the oath-breaker who betrayed his father, Valerian.'
Ballista thought for a moment. 'Why has Shapur agreed to the embassy?'
'Harder to say.' Cledonius shrugged. 'The King of Kings has not chosen to confide in me. But it seems he is equally well served by our success or failure.'
Now it was Ballista's turn to shrug. Immediately, he wished he had not. It hurt. 'Explain.'
Cledonius waited for a servant, who had come to tell them that their tents were ready, to move out of earshot. 'If, as expected, Macrianus rejects the demand to ransom Valerian, then Shapur has an excellent cause for the war to carry on. But on the other side of the coin, if, by some divine intervention, we get Macrianus to give up what is demanded, then Shapur gets a huge amount of gold and silver and certain other things which make his glory all the greater and, I feel sure, Mazda will guide him to another good and just reason for the fighting to continue.'
'Either way, we end up back on our bellies before the Sassanid throne.' Ballista sounded depressed. 'And then…'
'There is a lot of talk around Shapur of using the expertise of the Roman prisoners: building towns, dams, bridges, fortifications. As a trained siege engineer, you might end up doing that. It might not be too bad.'
Having agreed, in the most half-hearted way, Ballista said goodnight to Cledonius and went to his tent. The northerner was very tired.
It was long into the night, possibly around the end of the third watch, when Ballista woke with a feeling of profound dread. The wind had risen. He could hear nothing over its howling and snapping around the tent. It was not the noise that scared him, though, it was the smelclass="underline" the thick, lanolin smell of waxed canvas.
Although he knew what he would see, a tiny part of Ballista hoped he was wrong. He forced himself to look. He was not mistaken. The faint glow of the torches outside illuminated the figure. It was standing, the tip of its hood touching the roof of the tent. As every time before, it was waiting.
Ballista got a double bridle on his fear. 'Speak,' he commanded.
The figure spoke, a deep, grating sound: 'I will see you again at Aquileia.'
'I will see you then,' Ballista replied.
The figure did not move. Under the hood, its eyes glittered. It hissed another word: 'Oath-breaker,' then turned and left.
Ballista did not call out for the guards. There was no point. On no previous occasion had anyone else seen the daemon of the emperor Maximinus Thrax.
Twenty-two years before, Ballista had sworn the military oath to Maximinus Thrax. By Jupiter Optimus Maximus and all the gods, I swear to carry out the emperor's commands, never desert the standards or shirk death, to value the safety of the emperor above everything. Ballista had not kept the sacramentum. Instead, at the siege of Aquileia, he had killed Maximinus Thrax, plunging a stylus into his throat. The other conspirators had beheaded the emperor, desecrated his body. Denying him burial, they had condemned his daemon to walk the earth for eternity.