The Eagle In the Sand

'I will not accept a gift,' he repeated.'But I will require a favour of you in the near future.When the time comes, where may I find you gentlemen?'

'When we have concluded our business here we will be returning to Petra, to make arrangements for the next caravan. We should be there for a month, maybe two.'

'I'll send word to you in Petra, then.'

Macro watched as the merchants returned to the long stream of camels swaying up the slope towards the gate of Gerasa. He smiled. If his plan was workable at all, then the merchants were going to prove vital to its success.

07 The Eagle In the Sand

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The day after Centurion Parmenion's force left Bushir they marched through the hilly landscape around Herodion, keeping close watch on the terraced olive groves that climbed the slopes on either side.This was the kind of country that favoured the light troops that Bannus had at his disposal, and Cato could well imagine the damage that a small force armed with slings and javelins might inflict on the Roman column. Fortunately there was no sign of the brigands and at midday they reached the large village of Beth Mashon, surrounded by dusty clumps of palm trees. Their approach was spotted by a handful of children tending their goats, and as they drove their bleating charges out of the path of the soldiers one of them raced ahead to warn the villagers.

Cato glanced at Parmenion. 'Do you think we should deploy the men?'

'For what?'

'In case they're preparing a surprise.'

'Who do you think we're up against, Cato?' Parmenion asked wearily.'Some crack Parthian cavalry, or something?'

'Who knows?'

Parmenion laughed bitterly. 'There's nothing in there apart from the usual peasants. Believe me. And right now they'll be scared as hell and hoping that we don't add to their difficulties. Fat chance of that, of course. About the only time outsiders ever visit places like this is when they've come to collect the taxes or make some other trouble.'

Cato looked closely at the veteran. 'Sounds to me like you're on their side.'

'Their side?' Parmenion raised his eyebrows. 'They don't have a side.They're too bloody poor to have a side. They have nothing. Look around you, Cato. This is about as close to desolation as you can get. These people are scraping a living off the dust. For what? So that they can pay their taxes, their tithes, their debts. And in the end when the tax-farmers, temple priests and bankers have had their cut, and there's nothing left, they have to sell their children. They're desperate, and desperate people having nothing left to lose but their hope. When that's gone, who do they go for?' He smacked himself on the chest.'Us.Then we have to go round butchering the poor bastards until they're sufficiently cowed again to let the same old parasites resume squeezing the survivors for every last shekel they can get.'

He took a deep breath and made to continue, but shook his head in frustration and clamped his mouth shut.

'Got that off your chest, then?' Cato said quietly.

Parmenion glared back at him and then smiled.'Sorry. It's just that I've served here too long.And it's always been the same.' He gestured towards the village. 'It's a wonder they stick it. Anywhere else the people would be in open rebellion by now.'

'They are,' Cato replied.'I thought that was why we're out here. To deal with Bannus.'

Parmenion pursed his lips.'Bannus? He's just the latest in a long line of bandits. Soon as they get a large enough following they claim to be the mashiah, here to deliver the people of Judaea from our clutches.' He laughed. 'I've yet to see one who wasn't the mashiah. And still they come… I tell you, I'm sick of it all. I hate this place. I hate these people and their poverty and I hate what it does to them. I'm counting the days to my discharge.Then I can leave this hole for good.'

'Where will you go?'

'As far from here as I can. Somewhere with good soil, and water, where a man can grow crops without breaking his back. I hear Britain's the place to take up a land grant these days.'

Cato laughed. 'I'm not so sure about that.'

'You've been there?'

'Yes. Two years in the Second Legion, with Macro.'

'What's it like?'

Cato thought for a moment. 'In most ways it's as different from Judaea as you can get. A good spot for that farm of yours, Parmenion, but the people are just as unwelcoming. They'll not bend to our ways very soon, I imagine. It's funny, here I am at the other end of the empire and it seems we're making the same old mistakes.'

'What do you mean?'

'These Judaeans. They have a religion that will not bend, will not compromise. And one Roman procurator after another is doomed to resort to force to make sure the Judaeans accept Roman rule on our terms. It's the same story in Britain, with the druids. As long as they hold to the old ways and we insist on the new, then there's little chance of long-term peace in either province. Not a rosy outlook on both fronts, I'm afraid.'

'You may be right.' Parmenion shrugged his shoulders wearily. 'Seems that the people who run the Empire are never going to learn. Anyway,' he glanced up at the nearest houses, 'here we are. Better get on with it.'

The column entered the edge of the village and Cato felt the familiar chill of tension tighten round his spine as he glanced down each side of the narrow street that wound through the blocks of sun-bleached houses. It followed the same pattern as all the other villages he had seen since arriving in Judaea. It was comprised of several households clustered around courtyards, where the inhabitants shared a cistern, an oven, a grain mill, an olive press and the other facilities which made them self-sufficient. Most of the houses were single-storey, but some had internal stairs that led up to the roofs where sun shelters were erected. Where the plaster was cracked and chunks had fallen away Cato could see the basalt blocks beneath, with mud and pebble mortar to make them weatherproof. From its size Cato guessed that as many as a thousand people lived in the village, but when he mentioned this to Parmenion the veteran scoffed.

'More than that. Much more. The families at the bottom of the pile live pretty much cheek by jowl. Land is in short supply.When a father passes it on, it is divided equally amongst his sons, so each generation had less and less land to work, and cannot afford to build their own homes.'

The column emerged from the winding street into a broad paved square in front of a large building with a domed roof. Parmenion summoned one of his men and handed over the reins.

'That's the synagogue,' Parmenion muttered as he dismounted.'That's where I'll find the priest. He'll be the headman, or at least someone who knows him. Optio!' he bellowed back towards his men and a junior officer came trotting over and saluted.

'Yes, sir.'

'You can pass the word for the men to stand down. But have detachments posted on each street leading out of the square. A section on each should do. Got that?'

The optio nodded and turned away to carry out his orders. Cato slid off the back of his horse and handed his reins to Parmenion's groom.

'Mind if I come with you?'

Parmenion stared at him. 'If you really want.'Then he took a deep breath and strolled over to the door of the synagogue, with Cato following at his shoulder.The door opened inwards as he approached and a tall man in a long black tunic cautiously emerged. He wore a red skullcap and long, dark locks hung down over his shoulders.

'Who are you?' Parmenion asked, in Greek.

'Sir, I am the priest.' The man stiffened and tried not to show any fear of the soldier. 'What do you want of us, Roman?'

'Water for my men and horses. Then I need to speak to the village elders. Have them summoned immediately.'