Cassius nodded slowly and backed away.
‘Only to me would this happen. Only to me would the gods do this. Not some heroic bit of swordplay, not even a fight. But some horrible bloody accident in a shit-stinking hole. That is what they have given me.’
Cassius had reached the side of the hollow. He leaned back against the rock and covered his face with his hands. ‘And poor Khalima. I can’t take it. I can’t.’
Simo walked over to him and put a hand on his arm.
Cassius threw it off. ‘You should have helped me. You did nothing. Nothing!’
Simo retreated.
‘Damn you, you coward.’ Cassius nodded at the fire. ‘Take that wine off there and pour me a mug. But do not speak to me. Do not speak to me at all.’
XXXVII
Every sight of approaching riders worried them. Clear of the mountains and back on the Incense Road, they had nowhere to hide and could only watch and wait. But so far every party had turned out to be merchants heading south, who took little notice of the four men on horseback and the heavily loaded cart.
Ulixes drove the vehicle. Unlike the auxiliaries, he wasn’t concerned about being close to the stone or the dead men. Poor Ingennus had no choice. The wound in his thigh was far too big to be stitched and though the bleeding had slowed, he was still in a lot of pain. But what he complained about most was the smell. They had wrapped up Andal and the others as best they could but they were already rotting in the heat. Mercator remained determined that his men be buried at Humeima.
Five days after their flight from Galanaq, they still hadn’t reached the fortress. Indavara rode at the front, trying to keep them going, but he could tell the others were exhausted. Mercator barely spoke, and Indavara knew it wasn’t just because of his hand. When they stopped, the optio would look at the dead men or gaze up at the sky. The three auxiliaries were simply desperate to be rid of the stone and reach safety. Only Ulixes kept up his spirits — he just seemed happy to be alive.
In the quiet moments, Indavara thanked Fortuna. He had fought many men and come out with little more than a few scratches. The only pain came from his left shin. Somehow he had scraped off the top layer of skin; it would have to heal all over again. He continued to pray for Corbulo and Simo. He couldn’t shake the feeling that they would be waiting at the fortress, though he knew it was impossible.
As afternoon became evening on that fifth day, they still couldn’t see Humeima’s white walls. Nobus had already fallen from his horse twice and Ingennus was ailing. Mercator sat silently hunched over on his mount and even Ulixes was cursing, knowing they faced another cold night in the desert. Indavara was about to call a halt when the gambler gave a triumphant cry.
‘Look. Look there.’
In their weary state, none of the others had noticed the column approaching the Incense Road from the east.
Ulixes stopped the cart and stood up. ‘I think it’s the camel-riders.’
The column was heading almost directly for them and within a few minutes they could clearly see the well-organised ranks of cavalry.
‘Thank the gods,’ said Mercator.
They rode on another quarter-mile; to make sure the cavalrymen would come right past them. There were fewer this time, perhaps only forty, but Viridio was there. Mercator slid off his saddle and waved both arms at him.
Just as the column was about to turn onto the road, the decurion halted his riders. He didn’t bother to get down himself but sent another man to speak to the strangers. But when Mercator explained that they were on army business and in need of escort to Humeima, the cavalry commander dismounted. He removed the gloves he was wearing, brushed sand off his scarlet cape and strode over to Mercator.
‘What is so bloody important that you should halt a detachment of imperial cavalry?’
The optio quietly told him what was in the cart.
The decurion’s eyes widened. He looked at Ulixes and Indavara. ‘You don’t look much like soldiers to me.’
Mercator glanced helplessly back at the others. Not one of them had any papers or anything else to identify them.
‘Trust me, sir,’ said Ulixes, jumping down from the cart. ‘They’re soldiers.’
He walked up to the decurion and pushed up his tunic sleeve. Viridio looked at the four green letters etched on his arm. SPQR.
Ulixes grinned. ‘Me too.’
Cassius and Simo spent two more days and nights in the mountains. As ordered, the attendant did not speak to his master. Cassius half-expected himself to weaken but he did not.
He hardly noticed the howls of wolves at night, nor worried about the dangers of the undulating trail. Even when they overtook two desperate-looking men armed with spears, he simply hurried his horse past and didn’t look back.
When they stopped he drank wine and ignored the water Simo offered him.
When he saw the young guard lying on the outhouse floor he looked up at the sun until it hurt — anything to burn the image away. He pushed the pace as hard as he dared so that he was exhausted at night — so he would sleep.
Once the trail finally took them beyond the last of the high peaks, they descended through wide hillocks covered with thick, pale grass. Nestled between two of them was a hamlet where Simo bought food and Cassius bought more wine. They had to use gestures to communicate; not a single person spoke a word of Greek.
Just after noon on the next day, the trail ran down to a sandy plain dotted with strange, bright orange shrubs. A haze hid the coast but a passing merchant (who did speak Greek) reckoned it was no more than twenty miles. Relieved he would reach Leuke Kome by sundown, Cassius continued on without waiting for Simo, who was having some problem with his horse.
At what he guessed to be around the ninth hour, he stopped in a village to rest. He’d at last regained a little appetite and bought some cooked fish from a stall. Without any plates or cutlery, he sat on a barrel and ate it from the leaf it had been served on. It was a white fish, the flesh soft and sweet and flavoured with green herbs.
He was about ready to set off again when Simo finally arrived towing his horse and Patch.
‘Sir, my mount cut its leg two days ago. I think the wound is going bad. I can’t ride it any farther.’
‘You can walk.’
‘And the horse, sir?’
‘Just leave it here.’
Though the fish was delicious, Cassius couldn’t finish it all. He handed it to Simo.
‘Move those bags onto the mule. We’re leaving in a quarter-hour.’
As they neared the coast, the smell of the sea grew stronger, as did the cool, fresh breeze. They reached Leuke Kome an hour before twilight. Cassius knew the port had once been a centre for the seaborne incense trade but it had evidently fallen on hard times. Beyond the unadorned arch that marked the town’s perimeter, the trail became a solid road but many of the hexagonal flagstones were missing.
The streets were quiet, perhaps only a third of the dwellings occupied. The colonnades leading off the central square were still standing, but the only building of any quality was boarded up. Blocks of marble had been removed from the wall surrounding it and green water had stained the façade. A conversation with a local revealed that this was the old customs house but the last Roman administrator had left two years previously.
Cassius and Simo continued through the town until they reached the port itself. Leuke Kome was protected by a headland, the harbour enclosed by two curved moles. There were a number of craft tied up or at anchor, rocking gently on a slight swell. Cassius observed three high-masted vessels of fifty feet or more. He wearily dismounted and led the way across the main quay, past wooden stalls containing fishing nets strewn with weed and dead crabs.
There were several inns with lanterns alight. Outside the largest of them was a woman putting worn, flaking benches on equally worn, flaking tables. She spoke Greek and told Cassius there was a room free for the night. She called out to a boy who helped Simo take the mounts around to the stables.