‘Sorry, sir. Can’t be too careful out here. Legionary Gerardus, First Century, Fifth Cohort, Fourth Legion.’
‘You here alone, soldier?’
‘No, sir, Durio’s inside but he’s laid up with bad guts. We’re here for another two days before a new shift arrives. Let’s get the horses seen to, shall we? Stable’s round the back.’
Gerardus took the reins of Cassius’s mount.
‘Would you like to go inside, sir?’
Cassius was momentarily taken aback by such friendliness and efficiency.
‘Certainly.’
‘Please bolt the doors, sir.’
Gerardus led the horse around the side of the way-station, closely followed by Simo.
‘What’s going on?’ asked a weak voice as Cassius went inside and locked the door behind him. He walked over to the man lying under a blanket next to the hearth. Despite the wide chimney, the well-stacked fire was giving out a lot of smoke.
‘Legionary Durio, I presume?’
With a panicky look at Cassius’s tunic, Durio pushed the blanket away.
Cassius held up a hand. ‘Stay where you are, man. I can see by your colour you’re not up to much.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
Cassius looked around and realised the night’s accommodation would be basic. There was not one piece of furniture and the earthen floor was covered only by a thin layer of reeds. In one corner was a collection of rusting cooking pans and some firewood. Leaning against the wall behind the door were two spears. The legionaries had laid out the rest of their equipment on a cloak: a saw, a pickaxe, some goat-skin bags for water. They had at least kept the place tidy. Cassius glanced down at an iron pan next to the fire.
‘Any food going?’
It seemed an age since he and Simo had sat by the side of the road to down a hasty late lunch.
‘Actually yes, sir. We cooked up some barley and beans for dinner. Plenty left.’
‘Sounds delightful.’
With the horses dealt with, and an area in the back room cleared for the travellers to sleep in, Gerardus and Simo joined Cassius and Durio by the fire. As there were no chairs, the Gaul brought in Cassius’s saddle for him to sit on. Despite a few spices added by Simo from his portable supply, the lukewarm stew remained stubbornly tasteless.
‘How was it, sir?’ asked Gerardus as Cassius put down his empty bowl.
‘The best that can be said of it is that it filled a hole. I suggest you stick to soldiering, and plan on finding a good wife to take care of matters related to the kitchen.’
Gerardus chuckled good-naturedly. He did seem determined to ingratiate himself. Cassius guessed this wasn’t just sycophancy. With his fellow sentry incapacitated, the soldier was glad to have some company. He had already regaled the visitors with more details about the attacks on army units. Though no one knew for sure, it was generally assumed that Palmyran irregulars were responsible. In one incident, legionaries had been able to fight off the raiders without loss; in three others, men had been wounded and killed. Cassius was grateful that Gerardus had soon moved on to a different and rather more momentous topic: the siege of Palmyra.
‘So you were both there?’ he prompted.
‘From the first day to the last, sir. The legion was called down from Zeugma many months ago. Three cohorts went west to join up with the Emperor. We arrived just as the main force approached the city. What a sight, sir!’
Cassius nodded, passing his empty mug to Simo, who instantly refilled it from a jug. Behind the way-station was a cistern that provided a good supply of water.
‘Five legions, sir, imagine it. They’d lost thousands at Immae and Emesa, hundreds more from harassing attacks on this very road, but what a sight! More scarlet and gold than I’ve ever seen in one place; and ranks and ranks of Persian archers; auxiliaries from every province you can think of; and, most fearsome of all — Palestinian club-men. Big brutes every one, their weapons studded with all manner of bolts and spikes.’
‘And this tale of the mouthy Palmyran defender? It’s true?’
‘I saw it myself, sir. A man called out from the city walls, insulting the Emperor. One of the archers asked if he would like the man silenced. The Emperor said he would. A few legionaries provided the Persian with cover and he advanced to within three hundred feet or so. The Palmyran had kept up with his insults but then he was silenced for ever — the archer fired an arrow straight into his mouth! What a noise came up from our lines. I knew then the city would be ours, sir.’
Cassius had the feeling Gerardus had already told the tale a number of times. Durio turned over and started snoring.
‘And what of Zenobia? You saw the queen?’
Gerardus tutted. ‘Not a trace. They say she was taken by our cavalry during the night, while riding for Persian territory. Apparently she hoped to persuade their king to come to her aid. When the city folk heard she’d gone, the fight went out of them. A few days later it was all over. I did hear something though — from a cook friend of mine — he knows a scout who’s a cousin of one of the cavalrymen. He got a look at her.’ Gerardus shrugged. ‘Nothing special, he reckoned.’
‘How disappointing,’ said Cassius. ‘One would expect a woman who had caused that much trouble to possess at least one redeeming feature. I take it things have settled down now?’
‘I suppose so, sir, yes. There was a great exodus from the city but once they realised only Zenobia and her cronies would be harshly punished, many decided to stay. We’ve even seen a few return.’
‘And apart from these raids, the city is peaceful?’
‘For the most part, sir. The prefect has begun sending men back to Zeugma. The Third Cohort left last week, to get things in order before the rest of the legion returns.’
‘And what of the fabled treasures of Palmyra? I’ll wager you and the rest were eager to get your hands on some booty.’
‘No such luck,’ said Durio, suddenly awake, propping himself up against the wall. ‘A few gold coins were handed out to the officers. Nothing more.’
Cassius decided to dig a little deeper.
‘One would be entitled to expect something a bit more exotic, what with all those Palmyran victories in foreign lands?’
‘All went west with the Emperor,’ said Gerardus.
‘I can’t imagine the Governor was overly impressed,’ replied Cassius. ‘Surely the province deserved a share.’
‘You’d know more about that than us, sir,’ observed Durio. His comment seemed to remind Gerardus of the status of their guest. The legionaries stayed quiet. An officer from the governor’s staff might easily be with the Security Service, and soldiers knew better than to say too much to a ‘grain man’.
Cassius elected not to push his luck, especially as it seemed unlikely he’d get anything else useful out of them.
‘I’ll check the road again,’ said Gerardus, heading for the door.
‘And I shall retire for the night,’ Cassius announced. ‘Simo, prepare the water, would you?’
Wrapping his hand in a cloth, Simo removed a large kettle from a spit over the fire and took it to the back room.
‘Tell me, Durio,’ Cassius said as he stood up, ‘ever heard of an inn called The Goat’s Leg?’
The legionary beamed. ‘Of course, sir.’
‘It’s in a little village, isn’t it?’
‘That’s right, sir. Galanea — just south of Palmyra.’
‘Quiet little hostelry then, I imagine?’
Durio chortled. ‘Not quite, sir. Roughest bar this side of Antioch.’
‘Ah.’
‘No place for a gentleman like yourself, sir.’
‘Wonderful.’
As Durio settled back down below his blanket, Cassius followed Simo next door.
‘I shall enjoy this,’ he said, undoing his sword belt and lowering it to the floor. Next off were his boots, then his main belt and finally his tunic. He stood well away from the blankets that would serve as beds, and watched Simo as he wetted a cloth.
‘I feel utterly filthy.’
‘I can imagine, sir,’ replied Simo as he ran the cloth across his master’s chest. ‘Perhaps we might find a bath for you tomorrow.’